A letter from Richard I, king of England ()

Translated letter:

No prisoner will ever speak his mind fittingly unless he speaks in grief. But he can, for consolation, make a song. I have many friends, but their gifts are poor. It will be their shame if, for want of ransom, I stay these two winters prisoner. They know well, my men and my barons of England, Normandy, Poitou, and Gascony, I never had a poor companion I would leave in prison for money. I do not say this as a reproach, but I am still a prisoner. Now I know for sure, a dead man or a prisoner has no friend or family, because they leave me here for gold and silver. That’s my concern, but even more my people’s, for when I am dead they will be shamed, if I die [remain long] a prisoner. It is no wonder I have a grieving heart, for my lord keeps my land in torment. Now if he remembered our vow that we both took together, I know I would not long be here a prisoner. They know well, the men of Anjou and Touraine, those bachelors, now so magnificent [rich] and safe, that I am arrested, far from them, in another’s hands. They used to love me much, now they love me not at all. There’s no lordly fighting now on the barren plains, because I am a prisoner. Tell my companions whom I loved and love -- the men of Caen and Perche -- Song, tell them they are not men to rely on; the heart I had for them was never false or faltering. If they turn against me now, they act like peasants, as long as I remain a prisoner. Countess, sister, may your sovereign worth be watched and defended by Him I appeal to, for whose sake I am a prisoner. I do not speak about the one in Chartres, Louis’s mother.

Original letter:

Ja nus hom prise ne dira sa reson adroitement, s’ensi com dolans non; mes par confort puet il fere chançon. Moult ai d’amis, mes povre sont li don; hont en avront, se por ma reançon sui ces deus yvers pris. Ce sevent bien mi honme et mi baron, Englois, Normant, Poitevin et Gascon, que je n’avoie si povre conpaignon cui je laissasse por avoir en prixon. Je nel di pas por nule retraçon, mes encor sui ge pris. Or sai je bien de voir certainement que mors ne pris n’a ami ne parent, quant hon me lait por or ne por argent. Moult m’est de moi, mès plus m’est de ma gent, qu’après ma mort avront reprochier grant, se longuement sui pris. N’est pas merveille, se j’ai le cuer dolent, quant mes sires tient ma terre en torment. S’or li menbroit de nostre serement, que nos fëismes andui communaument, bien sai de voir que ceans longuement ne seroie pas pris. Ce sevent bien Angevin et Torain, cil bacheler qui or sont riche et sain, qu’enconbrez sui loing d’aus en autrui main. Forment m’amoient, mes or ne m’ainment grain. De beles armes sont ores vuit li plain, por tant que jus sui pris. Mes conpaignons, cui j’amoie et cui j’ain, ceus de Chen et ceus dou Percherain, me di, chançon qu’il ne sont pas certain; qu’onques vers aus nen oi cuer faus ne vain. S’il me guerroient, il font moult que vilain, tant con je serai pris. Contesse suer, vostre pris souverain vos saut et gart cil a cui je me clain et par cui je sui pris. Je ne di pas de celi de Chartain, la mere Loöys.

Historical context:

Richard, held captive in Germany where he was seized for ransom on his way back from crusade, addresses a poem to his half-sister. It is a plea for help disguised as a complaint about all his friends and relatives who have not come to his aid. There is a reference to his brother John in line 20 (mes sires) and to his other half-sister Alix, countess of Chartres in line 40 (celi de Chartrain), but only Marie is directly addressed (line 37, contesse suer).

Printed source:

Frederick Goldin, Lyrics of the Troubadours and Trouvères (Garden City, NY: Anchor/Doubleday, 1973), p.376-79, text and translation.