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THE ROYAL HOUSE OF FRANCE - outriders poetry project

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175<br />

© 2009 Max Wickert<br />

One day, while Galeana was at dinner in her chamber with some of her ladies and Mainet was<br />

waiting on her, she said to him: “Will you not break a lance for love of me?” Mainet answered,<br />

“Madam, I do not know how to joust.” He looked her in the face, and she in his, and their glances<br />

met. Both lowered their eyes and sighed. Mainet had scarcely left and returned to his room where<br />

he found Morand returned. When he told him of the tournament, he earnestly begged Mainet not to<br />

don armor, urging many dangers if he did so. Mainet promised him not to arm.<br />

On the morning of the feast when the tournament was to take place in the square, the joust was<br />

begun there by those of the lowest rank. Mainet stood in a balcony to watch, and Morand came up<br />

to him and once more admonished him not to arm for the joust, again pointing out the danger of<br />

his being recognized. When Morand had left, Mainet stayed in the room and took all his armor<br />

from a chest and decided to put it on. But he had grown so much, that the armor did not fit him.<br />

At this, he scattered it all over the room, cursing his ill fortune, and then retired in bad humor to a<br />

little antechamber between two rooms. There he sat on a bench, with his hand at his jaw, with one<br />

of his knees folded upon the other and his elbow upon his knee. He was sitting by a side entrance<br />

to the great hall and sighed, beset by many thoughts. At this moment, Galeana’s duenna entered the<br />

hall, saw Mainet and perceived how he sighed; so she drew near to listen. Mainet, unaware that he<br />

was being overheard, was saying: “Aye me! when shall I return to my kingdom, where my father<br />

wore such a venerable crown, since I cannot procure a jousting armor or prove my worth? O<br />

Alexander the Great, you who at my age had already made all Syria subject! O brave Hannibal, you<br />

who at my age led the whole army of Carthage! O valiant Scipio Africanus, how gracious was<br />

heaven to you in your youth, while all the earth cries shame upon me!” And he struck himself in the<br />

face with his hand.

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