The first time I read Marie de France’s lais I had no idea how I was supposed to respond. Was I to take a certain act seriously? Was I supposed to be appalled? Humored? Simply entertained? Was I to genuinely feel for this or that character’s plight? Part of the reason for this uncertainty was that I was too unacquainted with fin’amor, or courtly love. Marie de France was writing in a literary tradition where the values and customs of courtly love permeated storytelling. And so, without a good degree of understanding for how courtly love functioned, it was difficult to get fully situated into the milieu of her stories.
But even now, with more of an equipped background, I still find many of her lais to be bewildering and elusive. The reason for this is not the absence of tightly-knit endings, for some of them conclude quite neatly. Nor is it the subtle complexity contained in many of the plots. Rather, it’s a general feeling of bewilderment for how to feel about a particular lai as a whole, given that some of the horrific actions are performed by characters who are otherwise described as possessing a solid moral core (though this isn’t always the case). Similarly, my puzzlement arises from the fact that horrendous actions sometimes have no direct consequences — if any at all. Given these issues, many of the lais leave me feeling ambivalent. The story Eliduc, the last of Marie’s twelve lais and also her longest, is a prime example of this.
The lai of Eliduc begins in Brittany. The protagonist, Eliduc, is an exceptional knight and married to Guildeluec, who is exceptional in her own way. They embody the traits, respectively, of the valiant knight who skillfully and loyally serves his lord, and the woman of high standing. The marriage is a happy one. Eliduc’s successes, however, are the cause of envy from others, who wrongfully accuse him. Eliduc is not given a chance to defend himself, and even the lord that had loved him turns his back on him. So Eliduc, knowing he will have to leave the land anyway, seeks a lord elsewhere. But before he leaves he promises his wife that he will be faithful. This declaration complete, he departs his country, crosses the sea (with the accompaniment of some knights), and ends up at Totnes.
Here, Eliduc hears of a king who has become enmeshed in a war and consequently is in great distress. The conflict centers on the king’s refusal to give his daughter over for marriage. Long story short, Eliduc offers his service to the king and the king is grateful. And Eliduc, the superior knight that he is, does not disappoint. He conceives and executes a plan to ambush the enemy, which results in a huge success. The king is supremely joyed by this and lavishes praise and gifts on Eliduc, and retains him for one year.
Eventually the king’s daughter, Guilliadun, sends notice to Eliduc that she would like to meet him. She’s heard so much about him and it would be an honor. Upon and after meeting, it’s clear that she’s enamored by Eliduc (and he with her). She does not know, however, that he is married, for Eliduc doesn’t tell her this and neither, does it seem, is he much concerned with his wife (though the thought does flicker across his mind that he promised to be faithful).
Guilliadun, desperate to find out if Eliduc really likes her, has gifts sent to him. The gifts are accepted but the plan is not particularly helpful, since Guilliadun then wonders if this was done merely out of courtesy rather than an interest in her love. Eliduc himself is fraught with inner-torment and anxiety, and so goes to talk to the king. While there, he speaks with Guilliadun and tells her that he will not leave the king (her father) until the war is over. After that he’ll head back to his country. In response, she says: “Love, I thank you./You are so wise and courtly,/by then you will have decided/ what you want to do with me.” (All translations by Hanning and Ferrante, 1995)
In the meantime, Eliduc devotes himself to the war with such fervor and skill that he is able to bring it to an end, freeing the land and (in the process) garnering praise from those around him. Around this time, Eliduc receives news from his lord back home (the one who had sent him away) and learns that he is being besieged. The lord expresses his grievance for what happened, and says that those who slandered Eliduc have been sent into permanent exile. Because of this, and also because Eliduc still feels bound by oath to his former lord, he returns home. Prior to departing he informs Guilliadun and her father of the situation, promising the latter that he will return if needed. And Guillidun has something to say of her own: “She gave him a term and named the day/for him to come and take her.”
At home Eliduc’s wife, Guildeluec, senses that something is bothering him. She tries to discern what the matter is and treats him with much courtesy. But Eliduc is cold with his response, saying only: “In the country where I stayed,/I pledged and swore to the king/that I would return to him;/for he has great need of me.” So after being home for a while and helping the lord of his home country, Eliduc, when the date arrives in which Guilliadun designated he return, heads back across the sea. Once there he meets Guilliadun; then the two of them (along with some of Eliduc’s trusted companions) board ship and quickly head back.
On the way home Eliduc and his crew at first experience calm sailing; but as they near home a storm arises. A sailor blurts out that the cause of the storm is right there in the boat — that is, Guilliadun. This outburst by the sailor should be quoted in full since it’s a concise summary of what’s happened and is also the occasion in which Guilliadun finds out the reality and truth of what’s been going on.
“What are we doing?
Sire [Eliduc], you have inside with you
The one who is causing our deaths.
We’ll never reach land.
You already have a faithful wife
But you’re bring another back
In defiance of God and the law
Of right and of faith.
Let us throw her into the sea,
So we can get home safely.”
After hearing this, Guilliadun faints, prompting Eliduc to think she is dead. Eliduc then viciously strikes the sailor and throws him overboard. (I’ll return to this event after the summary, since this is the act I think is horrific and which seem to go unpunished, thus potentially creating a problem for the reader.) Eventually Eliduc and his crew make it home. Eliduc wants to give her a proper burial. He decides to take her into a forest where a “holy hermit” has lived for forty years, one whom Eliduc knows and has spoken to often.
But when they get to the place of the hermit they discover he has died. Eliduc is grieved and wants to bury the hermit, but before doing so reflects that “First I must seek the advice/of the wise people of the land,/to learn how I can glorify a place/with an abbey or a church.”
Eliduc sends notice to his wife that he is coming home. She is joyed but he is not. (Very similar circumstances to when he first came back). She again senses that something is deeply troubling him — and, trusting this intuition, she attempts to understand what’s bothering him. Eventually she finds out that he goes to visit the chapel; in response, she herself goes there. While there, a weasel happens to scamper over the body, which a valet strikes and kills. The mate of the weasel then retrieves a flower from the woods, puts it into the dead weasel’s mouth, which brings it back to life. Perhaps not surprisingly, the same flower is then placed into the mouth (via Guildeluec) of the fainted Guilliadun, which restores her life as well.
“I shall take you with me/and give you back to your love./I want to leave him completely free,/and I shall take the veil.”
That’s the story of Eliduc (mediocrely summarized!). I always find it amusing that Hanning and Ferrante write in their summary following the lai that “[Eliduc] is a more complex story than it may appear.” While it may not be more complex than her other lais, its depth, symbolism, and number of possible interpretations seems more than apparent. And within those interpretations there’s so much to make sense of, including the act that puzzles me more than any other: Eliduc’s killing of the sailor during the storm.
The act is difficult to make sense of for at least two reasons. The first is that the act (seems) not to be punished in any way. You could almost say it disappears in the sense that the killing is without consequence for the rest of the story. The second reason is that Eliduc has his good qualities; Marie de France makes this very clear. To be sure, Eliduc behaves improperly toward, and is inconsiderate of, his wife’s feelings – even if she herself does not appear to be ultimately affected by this. But we shouldn’t forget that Eliduc greatly assisted two kings, essentially saving them both from defeat. Eliduc also displays act of kindness and thoughtfulness, as when he gives much of his spoils to the common people. Given all this, then, the happy — though very odd, in my opinion — ending of the lai seems marred by Eliduc’s heinous act. Indeed this single, isolated act makes my response to the lai as a whole ambivalent.
Spectatio 