In crafting lays, I won’t forget

—I musn’t—that of Bisclavret;

Bisclavret: so named in Breton;

But Garwaf in the Norman tongue.

One used to hear, in times gone by

—it often happened, actually—

men became werewolves, many men,

and in the forest made their den.

A werewolf is a savage beast;

in his blood-rage, he makes a feast

of men, devours them, does great harms,

and in vast forests lives and roams.

Well, for now, let us leave all that;

I want to speak of Bisclavret.

In Brittany there lived a lord

—wondrous, the praise of him I’ve heard—

a good knight, handsome, known to be

all that makes for nobility.

Prized, he was, much, by his liege lord;

by all his neighbors was adored.

He’d wed a wife, a worthy soul,

most elegant and beautiful;

he loved her, and she loved him, too.

One thing she found most vexing, though.

During the week he’d disappear

for three whole days, she knew not where;

what happened to him, where he went.

His household, too, was ignorant.

He returned home again one day;

high-spirited and happy. She

straightaway proceeded to inquire:

“My fair sweet friend,” she said, “fair sire,

if I just dared, I’d ask of you

a thing I dearly wish to know,

except that I’m so full of fear

of your great anger, husband dear.”

When he had heard this, he embraced her,

drew her to him, clasped and kissed her.

“Lady,” he said, “come, ask away!

Nothing you wish, dear, certainly

I will not tell you, that I know.”

“Faith!” she said. “you have cured me so!

But I have such anxiety,

sire, on those days you part from me,

my heart is full of pain. I fear

so much that I will lose you, dear.

Oh, reassure me, hastily!

If you do not, I soon will die.

Tell me, dear husband: tell me, pray,

What do you do? Where do you stay?

It seems to me you’ve found another!

You wrong me, if you have a lover!”

“Lady,” he said, “have mercy, do!

I’ll have much harm in telling you.

I’d lose your love, if I should tell

and be lost to myself, as well.”

Now when the wife was thus addressed,

It seemed to her to be no jest.

oftimes she begged, with all her skill,

coaxing and flattering, until

at last he told her all he did,

the tale entire; kept nothing hid.

“Dame, I become a bisclavret.

in the great forest I’m afoot,

in deepest woods, near thickest trees,

and live on prey I track and seize.”

When he had told the whole affair,

she persevered; she asked him where

his clothes were; was he naked there?

“Lady,” he said, “I go all bare.”

“Tell me, for God’s sake, where you put

your clothes!”

“Oh, I’ll not tell you that:

I would be lost, you must believe,

if it were seen just how I live.

Bisclavret would I be, forever;

never could I be helped then, never,

till I got back my clothes, my own;

that’s why their cache must not be known.”

“Sire,” said his lady in reply,

“more than all earth I love you. Why

hide, why have secrets in your life?

Why, why mistrust your own dear wife?

That does not seem a loving thought.

What have I done? What sin, what fault

has caused your fear, in any way?

You must be fair! You have to say!”

So she harassed and harried him

so much, he finally gave in.

“Lady,” he said, “just by the wood,

just where I enter, by the road,

there’s an old chapel. Now, this place

has often brought me help and grace.

There is a stone there, in the brush,

hollow and wide, beneath a bush.

In brush and under bush, I store

my clothes, till I head home once more.”

The lady was amazed to hear:

She blushed deep red, from her pure fear.

Terror, she felt, at this strange tale.

She thought what means she could avail

herself of how to leave this man.

She could not lie with him again.

In these parts lived a chevalier

who had long been in love with her.

Much did he pray and sue, and give

largesse in service to his love;

she had not loved him, nor had she

granted him any surety

that she, too, loved; but now she sent

this knight the news of her intent.

“Friend,” she wrote him, “rejoice, and know

that for which you have suffered so,

I grant you now without delay;

I’ll not hold back in any way.

My body and my love I grant;

make me your mistress, if you want!”

Kindly he thanked her, and her troth

accepted; she received his oath.

She told her lover how her lord

went to the wood, and what he did,

what he became, once he was there.

She told in detail how and where

to find the road and clothing cache;

and then she sent him for the stash.

Thus was Bisclavret trapped for life;

ruined, betrayed, by his own wife.

Because his absences were known,

people assumed he’d really gone,

this time, for good. They searched around,

enough, but he could not be found,

for all their inquiries. At last

everyone let the matter rest.

The lady wed the chevalier

who’d been so long in love with her.

A whole year, after this event,

thus passed. The king went out to hunt,

went to the forest straightaway,

there where the bisclavret now lay.

The hunting dogs were now unleashed

and soon they found the changeling beast.

All day they flung themselves at him,

all day pursued, both dogs and men;

they almost had him. Now they’d rend

and tear him; now he’d meet his end.

His eye, distinguishing, could see

the king; to beg his clemency

he seized the royal stirrup, put

a kiss upon the leg and foot.

The king, observing, felt great fear.

Calling his men, he cried, “Come here!”

“Lords!” he said, “Come and look at this!

See what a marvel is this kiss,

this humble, gracious gesturing!

That’s a man’s mind; it begs the king

for mercy. Now, drive back the hounds!

See that none strike or give it wounds

This beast has mind; it has intent.

Come, hurry up! It’s time we went.

I’ll give protection for this beast.

And for today, the hunt has ceased.”

The king had turned around, at that;

following him, the bisclavret

close by; he would not lose the king,

abandon him, for anything.

The king then led the beast, to bring

it to the castle, marvelling,

rejoicing at it, for he’d never,

seen such a wondrous creature, ever.

He loved the wolf and held it dear

and he charged every follower

that, for his love, they guard it well

and not mistreat the animal.

No one must strike it; and, he’d said,

it must be watered and well fed.

Gladly his men now guarded it.

Among the knights, the bisclavret

now lived, and slept close by the king;

everyone loved it, cherishing

its noble bearing and its charm.

It never wanted to do harm,

and where the king might walk or ride,

there it must be, just at his side,

wherever he might go or move;

so well it showed its loyal love.

What happened after that? Now, hear.

The king held court; he had appear

all barons, vassals; gave commands

to all who held from him their lands,

to help a festival take place,

serving with elegance and grace.

Among those chevaliers was he

—so richly dressed, so splendidly!—

who’d wed the wife of Bisclavret.

Little he knew or thought just yet

that he would find his foe so near!

Soon as he came, this chevalier,

to court, and Bisclavret could see

the man, he ran up furiously,

sank in his teeth, and dragged him close.

Many the injuries and woes

he would have suffered, but the king

called out commands, while brandishing

his staff. The beast rushed, twice, that day,

to bite the man; all felt dismay,

for none had seen the beast display

toward anyone, in any way,

such viciousness. There must be reason,

the household said, for him to seize on

the knight, who must have done him wrong;

the wish for vengeance seemed so strong.

And so they let the matter rest

till the conclusion of the feast.

The barons took their leave, each one,

each to his castle and his home.

All my good judgment counsels me

he who was first to leave was he

set upon by the bisclavret.

Small wonder the beast had such hate!

Not too long after this occurred

—such is my thought, so I have heard—

into the forest went the king

—so noble and so wise a being—

where he’d first found the bisclavret.

The animal was with him yet.

The night of this return, the king

took, in this countryside, lodging.

And this the wife of Bisclavret

well knew. Dressed fetchingly, she set

out to have speech with him next day;

rich gifts were part of her display.

Bisclavret saw her come. No man

had strength to hold him as he ran

up to his wife in rage and fury.

Hear of his vengeance! Hear the story!

He tore her nose off, then and there.

What worse could he have done to her?

From all sides now, and full of threat

Men ran and would have killed him, but

a wise man expeditiously

spoke to the king. “Listen to me!

He’s been with you, this animal;

there is not one man of us all

who has not, long since, had to see

and travel with him, frequently,

and he has harmed no one, not once

shown viciousness nor violence

save just now, as you saw him do.

And by the faith I owe to you,

he has some bitter quarrel with her

and with her husband, her seigneur.

She was wife to that chevalier

whom you so prized, and held so dear,

who disappeared some time ago.

What happened, no one seems to know.

Put her to torture. She may state

something, this dame, to indicate

why the beast feels for her such hate.

Force her to speak! She’ll tell it straight.

We’ve all known marvels, chanced to see

strange events, here in Brittany.”

The King thought this advice was fair;

and he detained the chevalier.

The lady, too, he held; and she

he put to pain and agony.

Part out of pain, part out of fear,

she made her former lord’s case clear:

how she managed to betray

her lord, and take his clothes away;

the story he had told to her,

what he became, and how, and where;

and how, when once his clothes were gone

—stolen—he was not seen again.

She gave her theory and her thought:

Surely this beast was Bisclavret.

These spoils, these clothes, the king demanded;

whether she would or no, commanded

that she go back and find them, get

and give them to the bisclavret.

When they were put in front of him

he didn’t seem to notice them.

The king’s wise man spoke up once more

—the one who’d counselled him before—

“Fair sire, this will not do at all!

We can’t expect this animal,

in front of you, sire, to get dressed

and change his semblance of a beast.

You don’t grasp what this means, my king!

—or see his shame and suffering.

Into your rom have led this beast;

with him, his clothes. Let him get dressed;

For quite some time, leave him alone.

If he’s a man, that is soon known!”

The king himself led the bisclavret;

and on him all the doors were shut.

They waited. And then finally

two barons, with the king, all three,

entered. What a discovery!

There on the king’s bed, they could see

asleep, the knight. How the king ran

up to the bed, to embrace his man,

kiss him, a hundred times and more!

Quickly he acted to restore

his lands, as soon as possible;

more he bestowed than I can tell.

His wife was banished. She was chased

out of the country, and disgraced,

and chased out, travelling with her,

her mate and co-conspirator.

Quite a few children had this dame,

who in their way achieved some fame

for looks, for a distinctive face;

numbers of women of her race

—it’s true—were born without a nose.

Noseless they lived, the story goes.

And this same story you have heard

truly occurred; don’t doubt my word.

I made this lai of Bisclavret

so no one, ever will forget.