THE ROYAL HOUSE OF FRANCE - outriders poetry project

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© 2009 Max Wickert
At the height of the triumph and gaiety at King Anglant’s court, it happened that certain minstrels
gathering in the high hall of the chief palace were speaking among themselves in this manner: “By
Mahomet, there is not a nobler and more puissant lord in the world than King Anglant!” and many
applauded these words. But one of the minstrels, who had been at King Charlemagne’s court, said:
“King Anglant is indeed the greatest lord in the world and commands the greatest number of
barons; but there is a Christian king named Charlemagne who is far nobler, far greater, and far more
magnificent than King Anglant. He does not command so many barons, but those that he
commands are of greater worthiness.” The other minstrels began to beset him with cuffs and blows
and bitter words. And seeing him thus manhandled, one of the court seneschals, who had heard his
words, had him seized from among the other minstrels and brought to him, intending to have him
hanged, showering him with continuous blows. As they were getting ready take him down the stairs,
they were met by one of King Anglant’s nephews, whose name was Triamides. He was the son of
King Bramant, whom Charlemagne had slain in Spain. When he saw them thus abusing the man, he
approached them and asked the reason and was told of it. Triamides said to them, “You have done
ill,” and denounced those who had played the bully, saying: “Whatever man receives courtesy is
obliged to praise the man who has proffered it; and it is a signal honor for Anglant, our lord, that
every lord should be extolled in his house.” He made them release the man, and that minstrel gave
many thanks for the grace he had received.
3
The envy and hatred among the minstrels grew from bad to worse, since their kind is altogether of
little worth, and they are vessels of mutual envy. There is a natural reason for this, since men who
feel little virtue in their own souls take refuge in a womanish disposition, which ever believes that
the world owes it something. Of such a sort are ignorant clowns, who sweat for gain, and