Peter Ackroyd - The Canterbury Tales – A Retelling

‘You may believe what you like,’ May replied. ‘But a man that is suddenly woken from sleep may not grasp a situation straight away. He has to be perfectly awake before he sees things clearly. You were asleep, in one sense. You were blind. Do you expect to see perfectly the very moment your eyes are opened? You have to wait a day or two. Until your eyesight has settled down, I am sure you will be deceived by other illusions. Be careful, dear husband. Men are fooled by their visions, or their fantasies, every day. He who misunderstands, misjudges.’ And with these words she leaped down from the tree into his arms.

Who could be happier than January? He clasped her tight and kissed her all over. He ran his hand against her belly. Then, rejoicing, he walked with her back to the palace.

Now, good pilgrims, I hope that you are also content. So ends my story of May and January. God bless you all.

Heere is ended the Marchantes Tale of Januarie.

‘God in heaven!’ Harry Bailey exclaimed. ‘Keep me away from a wife like that! Do you realize how many tricks and deceits a woman can use? They are busy as bees, morning and night, trying to fool us. The last thing they want is the truth. The Merchant’s tale proves it. I will tell you plainly. My own wife is faithful to me. I know that. But she is a shrew. She may be poor, but she is rich in insults. She has plenty of other vices, too. Well, I can’t do much about it now, can I? Forgive and forget. But do you know what? Between you and me, I wish that I were not wed to her. Of course I would be a fool to repeat all of her faults. Do you know why? It would get back to her. There would be gossip by one or two members of this company. I do not need to name names. You all know who I mean. Women have a way about them. They know the market for their wares. I haven’t got the wit to carry on with a long story, in any case. Farewell to all that.’

Then he turned in his saddle and addressed another pilgrim.

‘Squire, come nearer to me. Come. Do us a favour. Tell us a love story. I am sure you are an expert in that field.’

‘I don’t think so, sir,’ the Squire replied. ‘But I will do my best. I will not disobey your order. I will tell you a story. But don’t think any the worse of me if I mess up. My intentions are good, in any case. Well. Here goes.’

Here bigynneth the Squieres Tale

At the city of Tsarev, in the land of the Mongols, there lived a king who made continual war on Muscovy. It was a struggle in which many brave men were killed. The name of this king was Genghis Khan. He had achieved such glory by force of arms that there was no more renowned leader in the entire region. He lacked nothing that pertains to kingship. He faithfully observed all the laws of his religion; he was doughty, wise and rich. He was as pious as he was just. He kept his word in honour and in kindness. He was as stable as the centre of a circle. He was young, too, and full of life. Like any other bachelor knight, he prided himself on feats of arms. What else is there to say? He was a happy and a fortunate man, and maintained so royal an estate that no one else could hope for a better.

Now Genghis Khan had, by his wife, Elpheta, two sons. The oldest of them was named Algarsyf. And the younger one was called Cambalo. He also had a daughter, Canacee by name. I could not begin to describe her beauty to you all. It is beyond my abilities. I would not be able to stammer the words. My English is insufficient. It would take an excellent orator, knowing all the arts of his trade, even to attempt to portray Canacee. But I am no orator. I am a poor squire.

So it happened that, in the twentieth year of his reign, Genghis Khan proclaimed the feast of his nativity throughout the city of Tsarev. He celebrated that day every year. It was in the middle of March, I believe. The sun was powerful and strong in those climes. It was already in the first ten degrees of Aries, sign of heat and dryness, so that the weather was warm and refreshing. The little birds sang in the sunshine. Their notes rose up into the air, as if they were a protection against the keen frosts of winter.

So Genghis Khan, wearing the vestments of lord and king, was sitting on his throne in the royal palace. He was holding a feast to commemorate his birthday. There was so much of everything on the tables that I will not describe the array. It would take a summer’s day to go through the entire menu. There is no point, either, in reciting the sequence of dishes brought from the kitchens. I will not mention the swans or the young herons, all boiled or roasted. I know that tastes vary. What is considered a delicacy in one country is scorned in another. In any case I cannot comment on everything. Time is running on. It is almost nine o’clock. I will resume the story where I left off.

The feast had come to the third course. The king and his courtiers were listening to the sweet music of the players, performing before the dais, when there was a sudden clatter. A knight appeared at the doors of the hall, sitting astride a horse of brass. In his hand he held a great glass mirror. He had a broad ring of gold on his thumb, and a gleaming sword hung down by his side. He rode up to the king’s table. No one said a word. They were all astonished by the sight of this knight. Young and old looked on.

This knight was in full armour, except that he wore no helmet. He gracefully saluted all the company, king and queen, ladies and nobles, in order of rank. He seemed so full of reverence and modesty, in looks and speech, that Gawain himself (if he emerged from fairyland) could not have equalled him. Then, as he stood before the assembled company, he delivered his message in a calm clear voice, full of strength. He followed all the rules of discourse and enunciation, just as the orators teach us, fitting his gestures to his words. I cannot imitate his high style, of course. That would be too great a challenge. But I can give you the gist of what he said, if my memory doesn’t fail me.

‘The king of Arabia and India salutes you, great lord, and sends you greetings on this solemn day of festival. In honour of your birthday he presents you with this steed of brass. I, who am your willing servant, was asked to bring it into your presence. This horse can, in the course of a single night and day, carry you to any place on earth. Wind or rain does not deter it. Wherever you wish to go, there it will take you unharmed. If you want to soar through the air like an eagle, this horse will carry you. You can fall asleep on its back, and still come to no harm. Do you see this pin here behind his ear? If you twist it, the horse will return you to your starting place. The inventor who made this horse was a very cunning man. He waited until all the planets were in the right aspect before he began work. He knew all the secrets of his craft.

‘Now let me tell you about the mirror I am holding. It has much power. When a man looks into it, he will see whatever misfortune awaits him. It will show you, sire, any harm that threatens you or your kingdom. Friend and foe will be reflected in the glass. If any gracious lady has set her heart on a man, she will see in this mirror if he is false to her; she will see his unfaithfulness as clear as day. Nothing will be concealed. On this auspicious spring day, my lord and master sends this mirror and this gold ring to your excellent daughter, Canacee.

‘May I tell you about the virtues of the ring? If the noble lady cares to wear it on her thumb, or carry it in her purse, she will understand the language of the birds. She will be able to speak to them as they fly above her. She will also understand the language of every herb that grows upon the earth, and will know which of them heals or cures the most grievous wound.