The Canterbury Tales: A Retelling by Peter Ackroyd by Peter Ackroyd, Geoffrey Chaucer Page A

see into my heart. You know my sorrow. Consider my plight. Have pity. And I promise you this. I will ever more be your servant, and combat the blight of barren chastity. That is my vow. I do not ask for fame in arms, or for a splendid victory on the field; I do not crave feats of vainglory or of martial prowess. I crave only the possession of Emily, so that I might live and die in your service. You may choose the means, as long as you inform me. I do not care if I win victory or suffer defeat, as long as I can hold my lady in my arms. Although I know that dread Mars is the god of battle, I also know that your power is so great in heaven that your wish is enough to bring me to bliss. Then I will worship in your temple, before your sacred image, for the rest of my life. I will bear sweet fire to your altar, in whatever place I am, and sprinkle incense on the sacrifice. If your will is against me, and you disregard my plea, then I wish to die tomorrow at the hand of Arcite. Guide his spear against me. When I have lost my life, I will not care if he gains the favour of Emily. Now that you have heard the purpose and the substance of my petition, great goddess, grant me her love.’
    When the prayer of Palamon was ended, he performed the rite of sacrifice to Venus with all due diligence and solemnity. I cannot recount all of his words and gestures here, but I can tell you this. At the close of his devotions, the statue of Venus trembled and made a sign. It was a good omen. He believed, then, that his prayer had been accepted. The sign of the goddess had intimated some delay, but he understood well enough that his request would be fulfilled. So he returned home with a light heart.
    Three hours after Palamon had set out for the temple, the bright sun began its pilgrimage across the sky. Whereupon Emily rose, too, and hastened to the temple of Diana. Her maidens escorted her, bearing the sacred fire, the incense and the vestments that would be used in the ritual sacrifice. The drinking horns were filled to the brim with mead, as was the custom; they had everything they needed for the holy ceremony. Emily washed herself in the water of a holy well before sprinkling the temple with incense; then she, of the gentle heart, robed herself modestly. I dare not tell you how she performed the sacred rites, except in the most general terms -
    ‘What can be forbidden?’ the Monk asked him. ‘Those days are past. The pagan night is over.’
    ‘Tell us all,’ the Reeve urged him. ‘It will entertain us.’
    ‘It can do no harm,’ the Miller said. ‘Not if you mean well. We must be free and easy in this company.’
    ‘If you permit me, then so will it be.’
    Emily’s bright hair was loose, combed behind her back. Upon her head was set a coronet twined from the leaves of the evergreen oak, sacred to Zeus. First she kindled two fires upon the altar, and then performed the ritual as it is outlined in the
Thebaid
of Statius and other ancient authorities. When the fires were fully lit she kneeled before the statue of Diana, and prayed to her.
    ‘Oh chaste goddess of the green woods,’ she murmured, ‘to whom all things of heaven and earth are visible, queen of Plato’s dark dominions, goddess of innocent maidens – you have seen into my heart for many years. You know my desire. I hope I never shall incur your wrath and vengeance, as Actaeon did when he was turned into a stag. But you understand, great goddess, that I seek only to remain a virgin. I never wish to be a mistress or a wife. I am a part of your order of maidens, devoted to hunting and not to love. I long to walk in the wild woods, never to marry and never to bear children. I have never wished to lie with any man. So help me now. As goddess of the chase, the moon and the underworld, cast your triune grace upon me. Cure Palamon, and also Arcite, of their passion for me. Restore love and peace between them, and turn their hearts away from me. Let all the flames of burning love