The Crusaders’ Grail1

Antonio L. Furtado

Quid rides? Mutato nomine de te fabula narratur. Horace, Satires, i, i, 69

The prologue to Le Conte du Graal2 (henceforward, the Romance) seems to reveal that a complex combination of purposes guided the composition of the unfinished masterpiece of Chrétien de Troyes. First of all, the author was writing by command of Philip of Alsace, count of Flanders, who would have given him a ‘book’, on which, presumably, the narrative should be based. On the other hand, independently of the book’s contents, he would like to please his patron, and what could be more agreeable to Philip than seeing his exploits celebrated in the new work he had ordered? The historical circumstances offered an excellent opportunity, since the count had engaged in a campaign to which all Christian knights, especially the Franks,3 had been called by Pope Urban II: the Crusades. Unfortunately his participation had been less than honourable. But his misdeeds might perhaps, with the aid of poetic license, be partly excused on grounds of juvenile innocence and lack of worldly experience. The Romance would then take the form of an inspiring fable. In the semblance of one of the characters, the count would see himself in consoling flashback, growing in skill and understanding through chivalric deeds and successive encounters with wise mentors and remarkable women. If at one point he had failed, he was being prepared to return and try again. Another purpose was to tell in rhyme ‘the finest story ever narrated in a royal court’ (vss. 64–65). The story should be authentically his own, never the repetition or servile imitation of a previous narrative, real or fictive. In a mosaic style, he would collect small pieces from many places, including the alleged book, and put them together in a novel way. Moreover, to bear the mark of its author, the story should belong to the genre he had more than anyone else contributed to inaugurate: the Arthurian romance of chivalry. Gawain would be there as foil to the hero, contrastingly more mature, dearest nephew and alter ego of an aged King Arthur. Other pieces might come from Chrétien’s own life experience and from his Latin and French readings. Among the latter was probably the Old French Roman d’Alexandre.4 To praise Philip, Chrétien’s prologue proclaims him worthier than Alexander. Similarly, he may have wanted his Romance, created in Philip’s honour, to surpass that legendary epic of so much renown.

1 The author is indebted to Prof. Judy Shoaf' for insightful discussions and invaluable assistance in translating the Old French and Latin texts, and to M. Louis Maillard and M. Cyril Longin for the relic of Saint Jacques illustration. 2 Chrétien de Troyes, Le Roman de Perceval ou Le Conte du Graal, ed. Keith Busby (Tübingen, 1993). Subsequent references to this romance are given in the text and identified by line number. 3 Will Durant, The Age of Faith (New York, 1950), p. 587. 4 Alberic de Briançon et al., The Medieval French Roman d’Alexandre, ed. Edward C. Armstrong et al., 7 vols (Princeton, 1937–76).

In what follows, we first examine the presumed relationship, previously identified by Martín de Riquer,5 between Philip’s frustrating expedition to the Holy Land and the central theme of the Romance. Then we argue that the marvelous objects that dominate the narrative—the Bleeding Lance and the Grail—as well as several of its characters and episodes, were modeled to a significant extent on elements extracted from the history of the First Crusade, centered on the rise and fall of the Kingdom of Jerusalem. As a complementary hypothesis, we contend that, if the book existed, it might consist of one or more Latin or French manuscripts about that momentous historical event. The most important report about the Crusades covering the period of interest was Archbishop William of Tyre’s Historia rerum in partibus transmarinis gestarum [A History of Deeds Done Beyond the Sea]. It received a Latin continuation and was the object of Old French translations and continuations. Two of the latter deserve mention: L’Estoire de Eracles, and the Chronique de Ernoul et de Bernard le Trésorier. Although the extant manuscripts of the French translations and continuations are dated towards the middle of the thirteenth century6—too late therefore to have been used by Chrétien—they are today the closest available rendering into that language of the Latin texts, and should provide a reasonably good notion of how the French poet, famously knowledgeable in Latin, would read and interpret the originals. We shall accordingly base our comparisons on the French texts associated with William’s work, referring henceforward to the entire corpus as the Chronicle. Much research remains to be done. In particular, the relationship between the Romance and the Chronicle will remain conjectural, unless a specific manuscript can ever be established as having been available to the poet.

The Central Scene at the Grail Castle

The nucleus of Chrétien’s narrative is Perceval’s visit to the Grail Castle, with its square-shaped tower so imposing that ‘L’en ne trovast jusqu’a Barut / Si bele ne si bien assise’ [‘From here to Beirut you could not find a finer or better situated one’ (vss. 3052–53)], where he is received with honour by the Fisher King. A sword is brought to the king; he should give it to someone who would use it well. And the king instantly places it in Perceval’s hands (see below). While Perceval is sitting by the king’s side, a group of persons passes before them, some holding candelabras, and others carrying objects which seem full of symbolic meaning: a bleeding lance, a grail, a carving dish. In his innocence, complying with his mentor’s injunction, Perceval does not ask the questions that come to his mind, fearing that they might be regarded as rude and inopportune. But, as the story later reveals, by staying silent he failed disastrously. If he had inquired about the objects, the maimed king would recover and would again be able to govern the land, and Perceval himself would reap a great profit. Now, many misfortunes would befall both him and others. Likewise, when Philip arrived at the Kingdom of Jerusalem, he was gladly received by King Baldwin IV. As he entered the holy city, whose hallmark was the square-shaped Tower of David, the king hastened to offer him the regency of the kingdom and the

5 Chrétien de Troyes et al., El Cuento del Grial de Chrétien de Troyes y sus Continuaciones, trans. Martín de Riquer and Isabel de Riquer (Madrid, 1989), p. xix. 6 Steven Runciman, A History of the Crusades, 3 vols (London, 1990), II, p. 477.

command of the army, ready to march against Egypt, joining forces with Byzantium. Baldwin needed such help because his leprosy was worsening with time. He had just been carried back from Ascalon on a litter, being no longer able to mount a horse. If Perceval was to be granted a similar mandate, the gift of the sword would assume the character of an investiture, as indicated by the wording: ‘Et dist: “Biax frere, ceste espee / Vos fu jugie et destinee, / Et je weil molt que vos l’aiez; / Mais çainniez le, si le traiez”’ [And he said: ‘Fair brother, this sword was intended and destined for you, and I very much want you to have it. But gird it on and draw it’ (vss. 3167–70)]. A late example of this sort of ritual is given in Les Gestes des Chiprois: ‘. . . il traist s’espee et la vost metre en la main en maniere de luy revestir de la seignorie; mais seluy fu sage et ne vost prendre l’espee’ [. . . he drew his sword and tried to put it in his hands, so as to invest him of lordship, but the other was prudent and wanted not to hold the sword].7 It was predicted that the sword given to Perceval would break in a fight. The sword of the first man to govern the Kingdom of Jerusalem, Godfrey of Bouillon, was broken in single combat, leaving him in mortal peril confronting the fully armed adversary; and yet he won with what remained of the sword.8 Philip declined the offer, claiming to be there simply as a pilgrim. Still, he took the occasion to ask for a totally different boon: to marry off Baldwin’s sister (and also his half-sister) to the sons of one of his vassals. William of Tyre, who, as chancellor, dealt personally with him, interpreted this as evidence of his ‘great malice’. The very title of the chapter, ‘Comment li quens Felipe de Flandres se contint mauvesement en la terre d’outre mer’ [How Count Philip of Flanders behaved badly in the land beyond the sea], could not be more eloquent:

Li qarz anz del resgne Baudoin estoit entrez; entor le commencement d’aoust, li quens Felipe de Flandres que l’en aveit longuement atendu, arriva au port de la cité. Li rois qui s’estoit fet porter d’Escalonne en Jerusalem en une litiere, ot mout grant joie de sa venue quant il l’oï. Si envoia de ses barons contre lui et des prelaz, por lui ennorer mout et conduire en Jerusalem où li rois gisoit encores malades. Quant il fu venuz, li rois manda le patriarche et de ses barons, les prelaz et les deus mestres del Temple et de l’Ospital. Par le consseil de touz li fist prier et requerre que il preist le roiaume de Jerusalem en sa garde et en sa desfensse, tuit obeiroient à son commandement en pès et en guerre . . . Le quens respondi à cele parole qu’il s’en conseilleroit, et quant il ot parlé à ses genz, il respondi que porce n’estoit il pas venuz en la terre de Surie que il eust ilec baillie ne tel jostice com de gouverner le roiaume, einçois estoit venuz por servir Nostre Seingneur en humilité . . . En ceste maniere ne pooit l’en savoir que li quens de Flandres penssoit, que il meismes descovri son proposement et dist que mout s’emerveilloit de ce qu’en ne parloit à lui del mariage de sa cousine. Li baron qui ce oïrent, furent tuit esbahi de la grant malice qu’il penssoit . . . Quant li baron . . . entendirent ce qu’il en penssoit, si respondirent que de ce couvendroit parler au roi et il l’en sauroient demein à respondre ce que le roi en pleroit. Au matin retornerent à lui et li distrent, par consseil, qu’il n’estoit mie coutume en la terre que nule voeve dame ne se mariast dedenz l’an que ele avoit perdu son seigneur, et ce apele le loi le ten de plor. (William, I, 1027–29)

[In the fourth year of Baldwin’s reign, by the beginning of August, count Philip of Flanders, so long awaited, arrived at the seaport. The king, who had been carried from Ascalon to Jerusalem on a litter, was very much pleased when told of his arrival. He sent some of his barons and priests to

7 Les Gestes des Chiprois, in Recueil des historiens des Croisades, ed. Académie Royale des Inscriptions et Belles-Lettres, 15 vols (Paris, 1844–95), XIII, p. 754. 8 William of Tyre, Historia rerum in partibus transmarinis gestarum, in Recueil des historiens des Croisades, ed. Académie Royale des Inscriptions et Belles-Lettres, 15 vols (Paris, 1844–95), I, p. 373. Subsequent references are inserted into the text and identified by page number.

escort him honourably to Jerusalem, where he was lying sick. When Philip came, the king summoned the Patriarch, his barons, the priests, and the masters of the Temple and of the Hospital. By their unanimous advice, he begged Philip to take under his guard and protection the Kingdom of Jerusalem: everyone would obey his commands in war and peace . . . The count said that he would take counsel, and, after speaking with his followers, replied that he had not come to the land of Syria to receive it as a gift, neither did he find himself entitled to govern the realm; on the contrary, he had come to serve Our Lord in humility . . . Thus, one could not guess what the count of Flanders had in mind, until the count himself disclosed his purpose; he said that he was very much surprised that nobody spoke to him about the marriage of his cousin (Baldwin’s sister). Hearing this, the barons were amazed at his malicious thinking . . . When the barons . . . understood what he planned, they declared that the matter had to be discussed with the king, and that, next day, they would be able to tell him about the king’s decision. They returned in the morning with the response that it was not customary in the land to have a widow remarried in the same year that she had lost her spouse, this being called the period of mourning.]

Perceval’s naïf prattle had once exasperated a group of knights he mistook for angels, provoking the comment that all Welshmen (‘Galois’) were foolish (vss. 243–44). But Philip’s wrangling had a worse effect, as he prevaricated about the planned Egyptian campaign. The four Byzantine ambassadors, led by ‘Androines qui estoit apelez li Angles’ [Andronicus, surnamed the Angel (William, I, 1030)], were disgusted with the mockery (‘gabois’) of the Franks, who in fact felt embarrassed: ‘il leur sembloit que ce fust aucuns gabois de tantes foiz mouvoir leur conseill et requerre ces hauz homes de Grece une eure de remenoir et autre de l’aler’ [to them it seemed mockery to change advice so often, asking those high men from Greece one time to stay and next time to go (William, I, 1034)]. Thus these two visits to a royal court, so full of promise both for the land and for self-realization, would equally end in failure. Philip did not leave immediately, but his half-hearted attempts to collaborate with the kingdom’s military action were ridiculed by the Chronicle in a chapter appropriately titled ‘Comment li quenz de Flandres s’en retorna sans rien faire’ [How the count of Flanders went back without accomplishing anything (William, I, 1047)].

Family Relationships

The family ties between Perceval and the Fisher King explain his prestigious reception at the Grail Castle. We learn that he was first cousin to the king on his mother’s side. One can assume that if he had, in addition, behaved as expected, he would qualify as a successor to the throne, as confirmed in later Grail stories, such as the Manessier Continuation. What, in turn, moved King Baldwin to choose Philip of Alsace for the double task of regent and captain (‘chevetaine’) of the royal troops was that the count was then and there his closest male relative. A former king of Jerusalem, Fulk of Anjou, had generated both Amalric, who was Baldwin’s father, and Philip’s mother Sibylla. Thus, through his mother, Philip was first cousin to the king. As soon as Perceval leaves the castle, he meets another first cousin, a woman in tears clasping the dead body of her lover. She condemns Perceval for his failure and informs him of the death of his mother. She adds that, having lived in their company, she remembers him well. Perceval, with incredible lack of sentiment, tries to convince her to abandon the corpse and follow him, leaving the dead to the dead.

As mentioned above, Philip’s concealed purpose was to arrange the marriage of a sister of Baldwin, who of course was equally Philip’s first cousin. Her name was Sibylla, having been deliberately named after the other Sibylla, Philip’s mother: ‘Il en avoit deus enfanz: Baudoin . . . et Sebile qui estoit einz née, qui einsint ot non por la contesse de Flandres’ [He (Amalric) had two children: Baldwin . . . and Sibylla, who was the older, and had been so named after the countess of Flanders (William, I, 888–89)]. Her first husband, William of Montferrat, also called William Longsword, had died scarcely three months before, leaving her pregnant. Like the mother and the cousin of Perceval, Philip’s mother and cousin had shared the same dwelling. Philip’s father, Thierry, in one of his four expeditions to the Holy Land, had taken his wife with him. When he returned to Flanders in 1159, Sibylla remained behind to become a nun at the convent of Saint Lazarus in Bethany, where she died in 1165. And Sibylla, Philip’s cousin, born in 1160, was raised in that convent.9 Note also that Perceval stumbled upon the Grail Castle, and found his cousin in its vicinity, while going in the direction where he expected to meet his mother: ‘Kar por rien nule n’i aloie / Fors por li que veoir voloie’ [‘Because I was going that way for no other reason than that I wanted to see her’ (vss. 3623–24)]. Therefore, the family relationships coincide with respect to the characters in the two narratives: the hero, through his mother, is first cousin to the king. And another first cousin is mourning her recently deceased man. The conviviality between mother and cousin in the Romance echoes the close attachment of the two Sibyllas. Philip’s disrespect for recent widowhood is similarly reflected in Perceval’s attitude. If Philip did serve as model for Perceval, the Arthurian hero is certainly a generously retouched portrait. Perceval had a single damaging but not incurable blemish: ‘Mais plus se taist qu’il ne covient’ [But he remains silent more than he should (vs. 3298)], the same fault that plagued Amalric: ‘Celi avoit de tieux coutumes qui ces bonnes teches li oscurcisoient, quar il se tesoit plus qu’il ne li avenoit’ [He had habits that obscured his good qualities; for he remained silent more than it befitted him (William, I, 885)].

The Fisher King

Having proposed the Leper King (‘li Rois Mesiaus’) as Chrétien’s model for the Grail King, can we come closer to the latter’s full image, so as to account for the maimed (‘mehaigniez’) and fisher (‘pescheor’) attributes? First, consider certain linguistic peculiarities associated with the word ‘poisson’ (fish). It is close to ‘poissans’ or ‘puissanz’ (powerful), and there are allusions to ‘puissanz rois’ (powerful king) since the beginning of the Chronicle (William, I, 10). It is also close to ‘poison’, corresponding to the same word in present-day French and English (a venom), but also to a purgative or even to any potion.10 This ambiguity is reflected in translations, an example being given by the lines: ‘Et d’autres borjois a fuison, / Qui pas n’avoient pris poison, / Qu’il estoient et gros et cras’ (vss. 5909–11). In the glossary of Roach’s edition, the entry for ‘poison’ registers ‘purge’,

9 Runciman, A History of the Crusades, II, p. 407. 10 A.J. Greimas, Dictionnaire de l’ancien français (Paris, 1997), p 466.

followed by a question mark.11 Owen follows Roach, laughing at those ‘townsmen who had certainly not been taking purgatives, so stout and paunchy were they!’12 Yet Martín de Riquer reads ‘poison’ as fish.13 A similar confusion occurs involving the Leper King. When his tutor, William of Tyre himself, discovered his illness, his father acted promptly: ‘Li rois fist venir ses mires qui assez i mistrent enplastres et oingnemenz; poisons li donerent et autres medecines, més riens ne li valurent’ (William, I, 1005), which one translator renders as ‘Physicians were consulted and prescribed repeated formentations, anointings, and even poisonous drugs to improve his condition, but in vain’,14 although ‘potion’ would sound more appropriate. And the suggestion of ‘fish’ remains, hinting at a possible source for the ‘fisher’ attribute. The word ‘pescheor’ (fisher), as has repeatedly been observed by Arthurian scholars, is close to ‘pecheor’ (sinner). When Perceval expresses his doubt about the man he had met: ‘Pucele, par le Salveor, / Ne sai s’il est peschiere ou rois’ [‘Young lady, by our Saviour I do not know whether he is a fisherman or a king’ (vss. 3496–97)], one remembers that Godfrey of Bouillon did not want to bear a crown, counting himself among the sinners: ‘. . . il respondi qu’en cele seinte cité où Nostre Sires Jesucrist avoit portée coronne d’espines por lui et pour les autres pecheors, ne porteroit il jà, se Dieu plet, coronne d’or ne de pierres precieuses’ [. . . he replied that, in the holy city where Our Lord Jesus Christ had worn a crown of thorns, for his sake as for the other sinners, he would not bear, so help him God, any crown of gold or jewels (William, I, 377)]. And Saint Peter, the first pope, a king of kings, had been a fisherman. Chrétien’s personage had been hit by a javelin through his thighs, and his incurable wound was a continuing torture. Among other disabilities, he could no longer mount a horse. To enjoy himself, he was wont to spend time fishing. Certain facts about Godfrey’s brother, Baldwin I, first potentate to rule in Jerusalem as king, may be relevant here. He suffered a wound that never entirely healed, inflicted by a javelin (although not through the thighs). Can we imagine a connection between this painful wound and . . . fishing? Let us look at two passages, the first about the wound:

Endementres que li rois entendoit à ce, li uns des larrons lança un javelot par derrieres et le feri entre l’eschine et les costes, près del cuer. Mout en fu li rois bleciez perilleusement. Grant tens mist au guerir, mès au derrenier l’en guerirent li mire si comme il porent; quar tozjors puis en fu mès dangereus et par eures li douloit li leus de la plaie tout freschement. (William, I, 440)

[While the king was so engaged, one of the bandits threw a javelin from behind and hit him between the backbone and the ribs, close to the heart. The king was grievously wounded. He took a long time to recover but finally, with difficulty, the doctors treated him as best they could; for after that he was always in danger, and sometimes felt a fresh pain in the wounded spot.]

and the second about the circumstances of his death:

11 Chrétien de Troyes, Le Roman de Perceval, ou Le Conte du Graal, ed. William Roach (Geneva, 1959), p. 356. 12 Chrétien de Troyes, Perceval: The Story of the Grail, in Arthurian Romances, trans. D.D.R. Owen (London, 1987), p. 452. 13 Chrétien, El Cuento del Grial, p. 115. 14 William of Tyre, History of Deeds Done Beyond the Sea, trans. Paul Halsall, www.fordham.edu/halsall/source/tyre-cde.html.

Tantost comme la cité fu einsint prise, li rois issi fors à la bouche del Nil. Moult durement s’emerveilla de cele eue et volentiers l’esguarda, pour ce que l’en dit que cil braz vient d’un des quatre fluns de Paradis. Après il fist prendre des poissons en cele eue dom il i a grant planté, et en mengierent assez; et quant li rois leva del mengier, il senti une grant douleur en son cors, et la plaie qu’il avoit eue de pieça li commença mout durement à douloir tout freschement, si qu’il ot mout grant poor de mort . . . La maladie l’opressa si durement que il ne pot chevauchier, pour ce li firent une litiere où l’en le porta plus soes . . . Là est une cité és deserz mout encienne qui a non Lars, et siest sus la marine. Iluecques li engregna si sa maladie que il ne pot aler avant, einçois le couvint ilec morir et rendre l’ame. (William, I, 508)

[As soon as the city (Faramie) was captured, the king went to the mouth of the Nile. He marveled at this course of water and was pleased to watch it, for—so it is said—it flows from one of the four rivers of Paradise. Then he ordered his men to catch fish, very plentiful in those waters, of which they ate a large quantity. When the king finished eating, he felt a great pain in his body, as the wound he had suffered in the past started to ache anew, so that he was in utter fear of death . . . The illness tormented him to the point that he could no longer ride; they made a litter, to carry him smoothly . . . A very ancient city lies in the desert, called Lars (el-Arish), situated by the seaside. There his illness was aggravated so much that he could go no farther, and died there.]

We might risk the conjecture that Chrétien’s personage did (partly) result from a conflation of Baldwin IV with his predecessor Baldwin I. In addition, if eating fish (‘poisson’) proved fatal to Baldwin I, drinking a purgative (‘poison’) was believed to have precipitated Amalric’s death (William, I, 1001). Other cases will be examined later where such word similarities and variety of meanings may also have offered curious suggestions to the author.

The Holy Lance

To follow the procession with our mind’s eye, we must recall that the Grail King, his guest and possibly a large number of other persons were sitting by a great fire:

S’ot devant lui .i. fu molt grant De seche busche cler ardant, Qui fu entre .iiii. colommes. Bien poïst l’en .iiii. .c. homes Asseoir environ le feu, Et s’eüst chascuns aisié leu. (vss. 3093–98) [In front of (the king) was a great fire of dry wood that burned brightly between four pillars. It would have been easy to seat four hundred men, each with ample room, around that fire.]

The procession starts with a youth carrying a lance, and: ‘Si passa par entre le feu / Et cels qui el lit se seoient’ [he passed by between the fire and those seated on the couch (vss. 3194–95)]. Later tradition, adopted by Robert de Boron and by Chrétien’s continuators, identified this lance as a relic of the Passion: the lance of Longinus that pierced Christ’s side. It may sound incongruous to modern ears that, to an object associated with the salvation of humankind in general, Chrétien would attribute a destructive power: ‘Et s’est escrit qu’il ert une hore / Que toz li roiames de Logres, / Qui jadis fu la terre as ogres, / Sera

destruis par cele lance’ [It is written that a time will come when the whole realm of Logres, which was formerly the land of ogres, will be destroyed by that lance (vss. 6168–71)]. For the Crusaders a relic could well be used as a battle standard. Islamic troops were attempting to retake Antioch, adopting the usual Turkish technique of hiding in ambush, opposing the enemy with a few men, retiring and then attacking with the full contingent;15 such army tactics, plus a flank or encircling maneuver (‘foreclose’) are described in the sixth book of the Chronicle (William, I, 235–75)—and, incidentally, in the Biaurepaire episode of the Romance (vss. 2363–2427). While the starving Christians resisted, a poor semi-literate monk, Peter Bartholomew, had a vision. Saint Andrew announced to him that the Holy Lance could be found in a church dedicated to Saint Peter. A lance was in fact unearthed in the place indicated, a sign that their efforts would not be in vain:

Li evesques del Pui et li autres seint home qui estoient en cele compaignie parlerent à touz les pelerins et lor distrent que Nostre Sires leur montroit biau signe . . . Il pristrent tuit cuer . . . si jurerent . . . il ne se partiroient de cele seinte compaignie jusqu’il eussent conquis, à l’aide de Dam le Dieu, Jerusalem, cele noble cité où Nostre Sires soufri mort par son pueple . . . (William, I, 257–58)

[The bishop of Le Puy and the other accompanying holy men spoke to the pilgrims and told them that Our Lord was showing them a sign . . . They took heart . . . and swore that . . . they would not part from this holy company until they had conquered, with God’s help, the noble city of Jerusalem, where Our Lord died for his people . . .]

and the lance would soon be carried aloft in a victorious sortie against the besiegers. Later, its authenticity being doubted, Peter Bartholomew offered to submit himself to an ordeal by fire:

Ilec fu renouvelée une parole, quar la menue gent et autres barons meismes commencierent à douter de la lance qui avoit esté trovée en Antioche, si comme vos oïstes desus; quar l’um disoient veraiement que ç’avoit esté cele dont Nostre Sires fu poinz en la croiz et qui de son sanc fu arousée . . . Cil qui trovée l’avoit, oï la doute, si vint devant les barons mout hardiement et leur dist: ‘Biaux seingneurs, ne doutez pas de ce . . . Et por vos montrer que voirs soit einssint comme ge l’ai dit, je vos pri que vos façoiz alumer un grant feu, j’enterrai enz et tendrai la lance en ma mein, je passerai outre et m’en irai toz seins.’ Quant il oïrent ce, bien si acorderent tuit: li feu fu apareilliez granz et hauz. Ce fu le jor del vendredi beneoit; et leur plot que la chose fu einssint esprouvée le jor que Jesucrist fu feruz de la lance. Cil qui s’ofroit à ceste mise avoit non Pierres Berthelemis, clers assez pou lettrez, selonc ce que l’en pooit conoistre par defors, mout estoit simples hom. Touz li olz estoit assemblez entor le feu. Pierres vint avant et s’agenoilla. Quant il ot fete s’oroison’, il prist la lance et entra el feu, passa tout outre, ne de riens ne fu bleciez qu’en poïst seur lui conoistre. Quant li pueples vit ce, tuit i corurent por lui touchier et fere grant joie . . . (William, I, 304–05)

[Then a rumour rose again, for it chanced that the common folk and even some of the barons began to have doubts about the lance which had been found in Antioch, as you have heard tell. Some said it was indeed the one which pierced Our Lord on the Cross and was sprinkled with his blood . . . The man who had found it heard about the doubts; he went boldly before the barons and said to them: ‘Fair lords, do not doubt this! . . . And, to show you that it is true as I said, I pray you to have a great fire lit and I will enter it holding the lance in my hand; I will go through it and emerge untouched’. When they heard this they all agreed; the fire was built up huge and high. It was the day of Holy Friday, and it pleased them that the test was essayed on the day when Jesus

15 Runciman, History of the Crusades, I, p. 248.

Christ was struck by the lance. He who endured this was named Peter Bartholomew, a clerk with not much education and, from what we can learn about him, apparently a very plain man. The whole army gathered around the fire. Peter approached and knelt down. When he had made his prayer, he took the lance and entered the fire, passed completely through it and was not hurt in any way that anyone could discover. When the people saw this, they all ran to touch him and rejoice . . .]

A few days later he died, however, and the lance was abandoned. This tragic scene is absent from the Romance, but consider again the emphatic description, reproduced above, of a great fire blazing in the hall, with the potential attendance of hundreds of onlookers. Passing beside (if not through) a great fire stands out as a salient mark of the ritual witnessed by Perceval. Peter Bartholomew’s ordeal had taken place on a Holy Friday, the day when ‘Jhesucrist fu feruz de la lance’. Had Chrétien seen this passage, the coincidence would perhaps be in agreement with his vision: the iron tip should again be bleeding (‘de son sanc fu arousee’), in memory of that supreme day of sorrow.

The Grail, the Head of Saint Jacques and the Sacro Catino

It is a well-known fact that Chrétien’s enigmatic object was not introduced as the Grail, but simply as a grail:

.I. graal entre ses .ii. mains Une damoisele tenoit, Qui avec les vallés venoit, . . . . . . Quant ele fu laiens entree Atot le graal qu’ele tint, Une si grans clartez i vint Qu’ausi perdirent les chandoiles Lor clarté come les estoiles Quant li solaus lieve ou la lune. Aprés celi en revint une Qui tint .i. tailleoir d’argant. Li graals, qui aloit devant, De fin or esmeré estoit; Pierres prescïeuses avoit El graal de maintes manieres, Des plus riches et des plus chieres Qui en mer ne en terre soient; Totes autres pierres passoient Celes del graal sanz dotance. (vss. 3220–39) [A damsel, who came with the youths ... held in both hands a grail. Once she had entered with the grail that she held, so great a radiance appeared that the candles lost their brilliance just as the stars do at the rising of the sun or moon. After her came another maiden, holding a silver carving-dish. The grail, which proceeded ahead, was of pure refined gold. And this grail was set with many kinds of precious stones, the richest and most costly in sea or earth; those stones in the grail certainly surpassed all others.]

The Old French word ‘graal’ was not coined by Chrétien. It is a well-attested common noun, as Mario Roques verified, meaning a large platter; its first literary appearance was in the Old French Roman d’Alexandre.16 More precisely, it already occurs in the Alexandre décasyllabique version, attributed to the 1160s or early 70s, which covers a limited period of the Macedonian king’s legendary career:17

Li seneschaus conut ben lo meschin E dist au rei sempres en son latin: ‘Per ma fei, sire, ça vei un pelerin, Il but erser a ma copa d’or fin . . .’ (stanza 61) Li proz Sanson conut lo seneschal. ‘Sire, dist il, Deus te porgart de mal. Ot tei manchai erser a ton graal . . .’ (stanza 62) [The seneschal recognized the young man (Sanson), and immediately told the king in his own tongue: ‘By my faith, lord, I see there a pilgrim who drank last night from my pure gold cup’ . . . Mighty Sanson recognized the seneschal. ‘My lord’, he said, ‘God protect you from evil. With you I ate last night, from your dish . . .’]

So, first a seneschal and then the worthy Sanson tell how the latter enjoyed the former’s hospitality. They echo each other. One line says that Sanson drank from the seneschal’s cup of gold; the other that Sanson ate from his grail. They confirm that the grail is a platter; and the symmetry of the descriptions in the successive stanzas induces a combination of the cup made of fine gold with the platter, to form the image of the grail as a precious golden object. Would the Grail be a relic, as was the Bleeding Lance if it is interpreted as the spear of Longinus? When the Grail is brought into the hall, a great radiance is produced, suggesting a manifestation of heavenly light, much like that which once descended before the True Cross carried by the Crusaders. The Leper King’s men, under the command of Guy of Lusignan, were camped dangerously close to Saladin’s troops. After a day or two, they were complaining of hunger; but a first portent relieved their suffering:

Une chose ne veill ge mie oublier qui lor avint, de quoi meintes genz se merveillierent, quar en la fonteine de Tubanie et el ruissel qui en ist, n’avoit l’en onques oï parler à cel jor que il i eust nus poissons, se ne fust par aventure loches ou verons; de ceus mesmes i avoit il pou, mès quant noz genz i furent logiez, si grant planté en trouverent de gros et de bons que il soufirent à toute l’ost tant com il sejorna. (William, I, 1123–24)

[One thing that I would not want to forget then happened, to the amazement of many people. For in the fountain of Tubanie, and in the adjoining stream, one had never heard of the existence of fish other than minnows or gudgeons, and even of these there were few. But, when our people lodged there, such a plenty of large and good ones was found that they were enough for the entire army, as long as it camped.]

And then the second portent occurred: ‘Quant ce vint le mardi al nuit, si envoia Dame Diex le fu nouvel devant le Sainte Crois qui en l’ost estoit, dont fist on si grant joie en l’ost, et si

16 Mario Roques, Le Nom du Graal, in Les Romans du Graal dans la littérature des XIIe et XIIIe siècles, ed. J. Fourquet (Paris, 1956), pp. 7–14. 17 Alberic, Roman d’Alexandre, III, p. 91.

grans luminaires de candoiles com il fisent le nuit’ [When Tuesday night came, God sent the new fire in front of the True Cross, which was with the army, whereupon they rejoiced greatly, and made such lighting of candles as if they were making day of night].18 Observing from a distance the tumultuous light and sound coming from the camp, one enemy warrior, not suffering from Perceval’s inhibitions, approached a Christian soldier and asked questions. This saved the day, for as soon as Saladin heard that the clarity from heaven had come down before the True Cross, he moved away with his army. And it is the protection of the true cross that is invoked for Perceval by the troops defending Biaurepaire: ‘Biax sire, icele vraie crois, / Ou Diex soffri pener son fil, / Vos gart hui de mortel peril’ [‘Fair sir, may that True Cross on which God allowed his son to suffer guard you today from mortal peril’ (vss. 2154–56)]. A hermit later adds something about the contents and use of the Grail. He who is served from the Grail, in a secluded room in the Grail Castle, is the father of the Fisher King. He had been living in confinement there for twelve years, and what was ‘served’ to him in the Grail was a single wafer. Since the hermit does not elucidate whether the wafer was consecrated, one suspects that the receptacle itself, not its contents, had the power to sustain the man’s life: ‘Tant sainte chose est li graals’ [‘so saintly a thing is the grail’ (vs. 6425)]. Even what the Grail is said not to contain deserves attention. It does not contain fish, and we are led to recall the deaths of those two predecessors of the Leper King, Baldwin I and Amalric, caused, respectively, by the ingestion of fish (‘poisson’) and purgative (‘poison’). As to the ‘sainte chose’ attribution, a fountain in Babylon had this same epithet in the Venice version of the Roman d’Alexandre: ‘Tant per est sancta chose . . .’ [‘It is such a saintly thing . . .’ (stanza 449)].19 However, besides enjoying the flattering parallel with Alexander in Chrétien’s dedication, would Count Philip find it natural to see his name associated with any sort of ‘saintly things’? During his youth, Philip had a predilection for the city of Aire (today Aire-sur-la-Lys, in northern France). His mentor and chancellor, to whom his successful management of the county was credited, was named Robert d’Aire. In a desire to ennoble a newly constructed church in Aire (c. 1166), Philip performed a rash feat. He violently snatched from their guardians a miraculous relic: the severed head of Saint Jacques, belonging to the Saint Vaast abbey in the city of Arras. Pope Alexander III decreed severe counter-measures, but Hughes, abbot of Saint Amand, acting as an arbiter, negotiated a compromise: the head was split into two parts, the largest returning to Arras and the smallest staying in Aire to grace the new church where, since then, miracles have been reported. The relic is no longer preserved, but mural paintings in the church provide a pictorial account of the events.20

18 Ernoul, Chronique de Ernoul et de Bernard le Trésorier, ed. Louis de Mas Latrie (Paris, 1871), p. 100. 19 Alberic, Roman d’Alexandre, I, p. 371. 20 http://collegiale.free.fr/guide_autres.htm.

Fig. 1 - Story of the St. Jacques relic – mural paintings in the Collégiale St. Pierre at Aire-sur-la-Lys

Fig. 2 – Detail: Philip of Alsace snatching the relic

Now, turning to the Crusaders: did they find some relic that might reasonably be associated with Chrétien’s Grail? The Museo del Tesoro of the San Lorenzo cathedral, in Genoa, exhibits even today an object called the Sacro Catino, a platter of emerald according to medieval belief (but actually of crystal, as shown by modern analysis). William’s text reports reports how it was found inside a temple in Caesarea. Crusaders from Genoa, who were among those who pillaged the temple, took it to their city as their share in the spoils:

Il avoit en une des parties de la vile un temple que Herodes avoit jadis fet és non d’Auguste Cesar qui estoit de trop riches oevres fez, touz peinz à or musique ... Là dedenz fu trouvez uns vessiaux de pierres verz et cleres assez de trop grant biauté, fez ausint comme uns taillouers. Li Genevois cuidierent et cuident encore que ce soit une esmeraude, por ce la pristrent à leur part del gaeng de la vile por trop grant some d’avoir; il l’emporterent à leur cité et mistrent en la mestre yglise où ele est encore. L’en i met la cendre que l’en prent le premier jor de karesme, et le montre l’en ausint comme por une trop riche chose, quar il dient veraiement que c’est esmeraude. (William, I, 422–23)

[Located in the city, there was a temple, built by Herod in honour of Augustus Caesar, all decorated with exceedingly rich works in gold mosaic ... In the temple was found a vessel of bright and clear green stone of great beauty, shaped like a carving-dish. The people of Genoa believed, and still believe, that it is an emerald; because of this they took it as their part of the booty from the city, in exchange for a large amount of wealth; they brought it to their city and put it in the main church, where it still is. They place in it the ashes which are distributed the first day of Lent, and display it thus as a rich thing; for they say that it is really emerald.]

Note first that the adjective ‘esmeré’, applied to the gold used in the making of the Grail, sounds tolerably similar to ‘esmeraude’ (emerald). Secondly, although made of gold, not of some stone, the Grail is inlaid with precious jewels. And, last, consider the presence in the procession of that third object, the silver ‘tailleoir’—whereas the passage above states that the emerald vessel was fashioned like a ‘taillouers’. From a simile employed to describe an object, Chrétien would have created a second object, a doubling artifice functioning as the inverse of conflation.

Figure 3: The Sacro Catino

The Genoans were happy to take to their cathedral a piece so splendid for both its material and—since it had been taken from a temple—spiritual value. The passage neither indicates whether, in the temple, there was something inside it, nor what it was used for. It does not matter: this receptacle, thought to be one single huge emerald, was a miracle by itself (the Latin original uses the phrase ‘quasi pro miraculo’(William, I, 423)). We might venture to say that, for the victors, the ‘riche chose’ qualified already as a ‘sainte chose’. As early as the last decade of the thirteenth century, the claim that the Sacro Catino is the Grail has found supporters. Says archbishop Jacopo da Varagine in his Chronica civitatis Ianuensis (Chronicle of the City of Genoa):

Sicut enim, adveniente luce solis, omnia celi luminaria obumbrantur, sic in presentia illius lapidis ceteri lapides preciosi a suo fulgore destituuntur . . . Illud autem sub silencio pretereundum non est quod in quibusdam libris Anglorum reperitur quod quando Nicodemus corpus Christi de cruce deposuit, eius sanguinem, qui adhuc recens erat et ignominiose dispersus fuerat, recolegit in quodam vase smaragdino, sibi a Deo divinitus preparato. Et illud vas dicti Anglici in libris suis Sangraal appellant.

[As indeed, when the light of the sun comes, all the lights of the sky are overshadowed, so in the presence of this stone other precious stones lose their brightness . . . One should not go on without mentioning that, in certain books of the English, it is found that, when Nicodemus took the body of Christ down from the cross, he collected his blood just fresh and shamefully flowing out, in such a vessel of emerald, prepared by him in divine inspiration; and the English in their books call that vessel the Sangraal.]21

Side by side with the original ‘graal’ of the Roman d’Alexandre, we have thus reviewed the severed head of Saint Jacques and the bright stone from the temple of Caesarea, curiously reminiscent of the two unorthodox versions of the Grail given, respectively, by the Welsh Peredur and the German Parzival.

The Good Friday Procession

After five years wandering, on a Good Friday, Perceval comes upon a procession of knights and ladies, walking barefoot after meeting a saintly hermit. They had tied together branches of trees to signal the path. Full of remorse for his sins, he dismounts and disarms before the hermit’s cell. With tears flowing from his eyes, he enters a chapel where mass is being celebrated, and begs the hermit for counsel. From him, Perceval receives proper religious instruction. Before his departure, the hermit whispers a prayer in his ears, admonishing him not to pronounce the secret names contained in it except in dire peril (vs. 6484–91). Perceval’s penitence was conceivably viewed by the poet as a necessary preparation towards a successful return to the Grail Castle. Would that be a reminder to Philip? Indeed, the early Crusaders had been advised by their bishops that only with repentant hearts could they conquer Jerusalem. After a fast of three days, on a Friday, 8 July 1099, a solemn procession wound around the path that surrounded the city.22 Shortly before, they had tied together tree branches, not to mark a path, but as part of military preparations: ‘Li

21 Jacopo da Varagine, Jacopo da Varagine e la sua Cronaca di Genova dalle origini al MCCXCVII, ed. C. Monleone (Rome, 1941), pp. 310–12. 22 Runciman, A History of the Crusades, I, p. 284.

barons conduisoient la gent hors de l’ost por querre la verge e les reins des arbres à fere claies por couvrir les engins’ [The barons detached people from the army to fetch stems and branches of trees that could be used to weave grids for covering the siege towers (William, I, 339)]. In the procession, all went barefoot, carrying the relics possessed by the army. To preach to them were called the chaplains Raymond of Aguilers and Arnulf of Rohes—seconding the irresistibly eloquent Peter the Hermit. When they had finished their prayers, the date of the assault was concerted (William, I, 340–41).

Palace of Marvels

Gawain’s adventures once took him to Escavalon, whose king was more handsome than Absalon (Chrétien, vs. 4792), a name apparently inserted to supply a biblically-inspired rhyme. Its description mirrors that of the fortified coastal town of Ascalon (‘Escalonne’), whose bishop happened to be called Absalon (William, I, 812). Gawain swears to go in search of the Bleeding Lance. By water, he eventually reaches the Palace of Marvels. Would the lance found at the Grail Castle have been moved there?, or did another lance exist? The palace will be his if he can sit on the enchanted ‘Lit de la Merveille’ (wondrous bed), braving flying arrows and a lion. The bed stood on little carved dogs with grimacing jowls; pushed with one finger, it would run all over the hall. And it was uncommonly rich: ‘Teus fu li lis, qui voir en conte, / C’onques ne por roi ne por conte / Ne fu tiex fais ne n’ert jamais’ [To tell the truth, the bed was such that never was one like it made for king or count (vss. 7713–15)]. Could there be one made for an emperor? Chrétien had dealt in Cligés with the Byzantine Empire, whose capital, Constantinople, was the richest in the world. When King Amalric went there, plans for the future Egyptian campaign were discussed, ultimately aborted by Philip’s defection. Embarking on a ship sent by emperor Manuel, Amalric entered the city through the palace gate at the harbour of Bucoleon, an honour reserved for the highest Greek nobility (William, I, 983). Manuel’s throne sitting was enhanced by theatrical effects, demonstrated during King Amalric’s reception (William, I, 983–85). In front of the emperor’s seat in the hall hung a high and ample curtain made of silk, heavily incrusted with gold and precious gems. After Amalric had been accommodated, the curtain was drawn apart very subtly (‘mout soutillement’) by way of cords, and then the emperor appeared sitting on his golden faldstool (‘faudestueill’), richly attired in imperial garb, so that he could now be viewed by everyone in the palace, with the king beside him over a seat covered with a gold-embroidered tissue, lower however than the emperor’s. To a French person living at that time, the prototypical faldstool throne would be the Chair of Dagobert,23 a chair of cast bronze, partially gilt, and supported upon legs terminating in the heads and feet of animals.

23 gallica.bnf.fr/anthologie/notices/00688.htm.

Figure 4: Chair of Dagobert

Long before Amalric, Bishop Liudprand of Cremona had come twice to Constantinople, sent by the German empire. In his Antapodosis, he reported how he was exposed during his first embassy, in 949, to the spectacular display of mechanical animals arranged around the emperor's moving throne, often employed to intimidate foreign ambassadors. The bishop resisted well, or so he claimed:

‘As I came up, the lions began to roar and the birds to twitter, each according to its kind, but I was moved neither by fear nor astonishment . . . After I had done obeisance to the emperor by prostrating myself three times, I lifted my head, and behold! the man whom I had just seen sitting at a moderate height from the ground had now changed his vestments and was sitting as high as the ceiling of the hall.’24

Not even live specimens were lacking; in 1101, disorderly Lombard Crusaders, forcing their way into the courtyard of the imperial palace of Blachernae, killed one of the pet lions of Emperor Alexius.25 Emperor Manuel showed to Amalric an assortment of relics of the Passion: a large part of the true cross, the nails, the sponge, the crown of thorns, the cloth known as the Sindon (shroud), the sandals, and the lance—a more plausible one than that from Antioch. After this, to the king’s delight, he called for different sorts of entertainment, including carols of damsels marvelous to the eyes. ‘Noz genz les regardoient à tiex merveilles que tuit en estoient esbahi’ [‘Our men gazed at such marvels, completely entranced’ (William, I, 985)]. In Chrétien’s Palace of Marvels lived the ancient Queen with the White Tresses, with other women of her lineage and a wise clerk with an artificial leg (‘eschace’; vss. 7651ff). A queen dependent on a powerful clerk was Mary of Antioch, Manuel’s widow, who reigned during the minority of their son, assisted by Alexius the seneschal (‘protosebastos’), her reputed lover (William, I, 1079–81). All hated him at the court, even more because he was parsimonious (‘eschars’) with the imperial treasure. The verb ‘escharsier’ (‘to use sparingly, moderately; to treat with severe economy’)26 sounds close to 24 Byzantine Garden Culture, ed. Antony Littlewood, Henry Maguire and Joachim Wolschke-Bulmahn (Washington, 2002), p. 129. 25 Runciman, A History of the Crusades, II, p. 20. 26 Frédéric Godefroy, Lexique de l’ancien français (Paris, 1994), p. 192.

the word for one-legged: ‘eschacier’. While the ‘eschacier’ had lost a limb, the seneschal was destined to suffer the same degrading mutilation as Clinschor in Parzival.27 Additional traits of the Queen with the White Tresses may have come from Melisende, queen of Jerusalem, one the most outstanding characters of her time. She founded the convent of Saint Lazarus in Bethany, whose abbess would soon be her sister Joveta, and where the two Sibyllas lived together for some time. After King Fulk’s death, Melisende ruled even after their son, Baldwin III, reached majority (William, I, 780–81). She made constable one of her cousins, Manasses (Manesiers) of Hierges, detested by the barons and by her son for abusive power and arrogance. To the eyes of Chrétien’s queen of the Palace of Marvels, surprisingly revealed as Arthur’s mother, the king remained a child: ‘“Par foi, sire, ce n’est pas tors, / Qu’il est enfes, li rois Artus; / S’il a .c. ans, n’en a pas plus”’ [‘By my faith, sire, that is not wrong, for King Arthur is a child. He cannot be more than one hundred years old’ (vss. 8168–70)]. Melisende felt no differently about her son. Baldwin’s supporters judged a terrible shame that he—so handsome, tall and wise—had no power, being still ruled by a woman as if he were a child (‘emfès’) (William, I, 780).

The Interrupted Scene

Nothing more is told of Gawain’s quest for the lance. He sends a messenger to invite Arthur and his courtiers to watch his combat against Guiromelans. His last action is to make knights of all young men (‘toz les vallés’) dwelling at the palace: ‘Lors ot il compaignie viax / De .v. cens chevaliers noviax’ [After that he had a company of at least five hundred new knights (vss. 9187–88)]. Then follows the narrative of how the messenger fared. It is generally believed that the Romance was left unfinished because of Chrétien’s death. Such is the testimony of Gerbert de Montreuil in the third Continuation, but other possibilities cannot be discarded. Chrétien may have decided to stop working on the story, as happened with The Knight of the Cart (supposedly because, like Fenice in Cligés, he found adultery unacceptable). Now that he was composing ‘the finest story ever narrated in a royal court’, what might have so discouraged him? The situation at the Kingdom of Jerusalem by the two last decades of the twelfth century justified no optimism. In 1183 the Leper King proclaimed as heir and successor his nephew Baldwin, a child of six years, Sibylla’s son by her first marriage. He was crowned as Baldwin V while the king was still alive. The barons swore that, if the boy died before the age of ten, Count Raymond of Tripoli would keep the regency until a group of potentates, which included the Pope, should arbitrate between the claims of Sibylla and Isabella (the half sister of the Leper King). But, on the boy’s death, his guardian Joscelin the seneschal betrayed Raymond. Joscelin, Patriarch Heraclius, Gerard of Ridefort grand master of the Order of the Knights Templar, and the villainous Reynald of Châtillon, among others, supported Sibylla for different personal motives. The barons faithful to count Raymond sent a sergeant to Jerusalem, disguised as a monk, to find out what was afoot. All doors were closed, so that Sibylla’s adepts could achieve their treason. When the barons’ emissary arrived, he had to enter through a postern of 27 Wolfram von Eschenbach., Parzival, trans. A.T. Hatto (Harmondsworth, 1987), pp 328–29.

Madeleine des Jacobins, a hospital for the gravely ill (a ‘maladerie’).28 Likewise, Gawain’s messenger had to meet, on entering the town, not the common people, but ‘. . . li contrait et li ardant’ [... the crippled and the feverish’ (vs. 9193)]. Both envoys watched a crisis involving a king and his nephew. At Orquenie, Arthur had fainted and the people lamented for the absent Gawain. The scene is broken in mid-sentence with a lady—whose name is identical to an adverb (‘lores’, ‘then’)—coming to the queen (vs. 9227). In Jerusalem, Reynald addressed the population:

‘Seignors, vos saves bien que li rois Bauduin Meseau, et son nevo que il avoit fait coroner, est morz, et li roiaumes est demorez sans heir et sanz governeor; nos vodriens, par vostre los, faire coroner Sebile, qui ici est, et fu fille dou roi Amauri et suer dou roi Bauduin le Meseau. Car ce est li plus apareissanz et li plus dreis heirs dou roiaume’. [‘Men, you are well aware that king Baldwin the Leper and his nephew, whom he had made to be crowned, are dead, whereupon the kingdom is left with no heir and no ruler. We would like, with your approval, to deliver the crown to Sibylla, who is present here and happens to be king Amalric’s daughter and a sister of king Baldwin the Leper. For she is the most apparent and rightful heir to the kingdom’].29

With the demise of the two Baldwins, one woman alone, Philip’s ill-starred first cousin, held the central role; she starts as lady and ends up as queen. The ailing Fisher King had received a sword with the recommendation: ‘“Vos le donrez cui vos plaira, / Mais ma dame seroit molt lie / Se ele estoit bien emploïe / La ou ele sera donee”’ [‘You will give it to whomever you please, but my lady will be glad if it be well employed where it will be given’ (vss. 3150–53)], and he passed it to Perceval. Very similar words occur in the Chronicle. There, however, not a token of the powers rejected by Philip, but a regal symbol was involved, and it was being transferred to the wrong place. Despite the opposition of the master of the Hospital, two crowns were eventually taken from the treasury, and then:

Li patriarches en mist l’une sur l’autier dou Sepucre, et de l’autre corona la contesse de Japhe. Quant la contesse fut roine coronée, si li dist li patriarches: “Et dame, vous estes feme, il vos covient avoir qui vostre roiaume vos aide a governer, qui soit masle; vez la une corone, or la prenez, si la dones a tel home, qui vostre roiaume vos aide a governer et le puisse governer.” Ele vint, si prist la corone, si apela son seignor, Gui de Lisignan, qui devant lui estoit, si dist: “Sire, venez avant, recevez ceste corone, car je ne sai ou je la puisse meaus empleer.” Cil se agenoilla devant lui, et ele li mist la corone en la teste.

[The Patriarch placed one of the crowns on the altar of the Sepulcher and, with the other, crowned the countess of Japha. As soon as the countess was crowned queen, the Patriarch said to her: “Lady, you are a woman; it is convenient that you have a male person to help you govern your kingdom. There you see a crown; take it now and give it to a man who may help you govern your kingdom, and be capable of governing it himself.” She stepped forward, took the crown, called her husband Guy of Lusignan who stood in front of her, and said: “Sire, come and receive this crown, for I do not know where I could employ it better.” He knelt before her and she put the crown upon his head.] 30

28 Ernoul, Chronique, pp. 132–34. 29 L'Estoire de Eracles empereur et la conqueste de la terre d'Outre mer, in Recueil des historiens des croisades, ed. Académie Royale des Inscriptions et Belles-Lettres, 15 vols (Paris, 1844–95), II, p. 28. 30 L’Estoire de Eracles, II, p. 29.

Now reigned Guy of Lusignan, handsome like Guiromelans, but incompetent as ruler and military leader. At the end of 1186, Reynald of Châtillon, worthy model for the robber Greoreas who violated a truce (‘trives”) decreed by King Arthur, assaulted a caravan disregarding the truce celebrated with Saladin. In the Chronicle, this caravan is conflated, mistakenly but with dramatic effect, with another one (in fact not pillaged) of which Saladin’s sister participated. Saladin protested to King Guy, who was not firm enough to compel Reynald to restore the plunder. War was now inevitable: ‘La prise de ceste carevane fu l’achaison de la perdicion dou roiaume de Jerusalem’ [The capture of this caravan occasioned the perdition of the kingdom of Jerusalem].31 Saladin sent a loathly sorceress, riding an ass, to bewitch the Crusaders’ camp.32 Marching imprudently to rescue the countess of Tripoli, besieged in Tiberias, Guy was defeated and imprisoned at the battle of Hattin, the Holy Cross was lost forever. The sultan finally prepared to take Jerusalem. When one of the last remaining crusader heroes, Balian of Ibelin, came to the city, he was regarded as the only one who could lead the resistance. Like Gawain at the Palace of Marvels, once there they were ready to accept him as captain and obey his commands, and they had decided among themselves that, if he was not willing to comply, they would seize him by force.33 No more than two knights survived in Jerusalem. Once more like Gawain, Balian took all the knights’ sons older than fifteen, as well as the most promising sons of the burgesses, and knighted them.34 Notice that, if this event was the inspiration for Gawain’s analogous act, the terminus a quo of the Romance would be as late as 1187. The final act of the historical tragedy was played in irreversible sequence. The best that Balian was able do, after a heroic struggle, was to persuade Saladin to establish relatively mild ransom terms. The surrender of Jerusalem occurred by the end of September. Rumour had it that, two years before, Patriarch Heraclius had been responsible for the death by poisoning, in Rome, of William of Tyre, his former rival for the position.

Epilogue

The repentant count Philip of Flanders went back to Palestine in 1190. While taking part in the siege of Acre, he was stricken by an epidemic passing through the crusader camp, and died in the next year. Posterity has always remembered him in connection with the Grail tradition. Jeanne of Flanders, one of his successors, asked Manessier to write the fourth Continuation to Chrétien’s narrative, in which the hero finally achieves his mission. In his closing dedication to Jeanne, Manessier affirms to be completing the work initiated in her great uncle’s name. In retrospect, it is tempting to imagine that the fable of the Grail, so inspiring to widely different audiences throughout the centuries, contributed to Philip’s last redeeming gesture.

31 L’Estoire de Eracles, II, p. 34. 32 L’Estoire de Eracles, II, pp. 53–55. 33 L’Estoire de Eracles, II, pp. 68–69. 34 L’Estoire de Eracles, II, p. 70.