The Canterbury Tales

As April's sweet showers pierce the drought of March to the root, and the small birds make melody, so too does the urge for pilgrimage stir in the hearts of folk across England. From every shire, they long to journey to Canterbury, to seek the holy blissful martyr, Saint Thomas Becket. One spring evening, a company of nine and twenty pilgrims gathers at the Tabard Inn in Southwark, ready to embark on this sacred journey. Among them is a Knight, a truly noble man who has fought in many lands for truth and honor, humble in his fustian tunic, still bearing the stains of his recent campaign. With him rides his Squire, a lusty bachelor, and his Yeoman, clad in coat and hood of green. There is also a Prioress, Madame Eglentyne, with her gentle smile and careful manners, who speaks French elegantly and weeps to see a mouse caught in a trap. She is accompanied by another Nun and three Priests. A Monk, who loves hunting and owns fine horses, and a Friar, named Hubert, a wanton and merry man, are also part of the diverse assembly.

The narrator, who has joined this merry flock, takes it upon himself to describe each pilgrim: their condition, their array, and their social degree. He introduces a Merchant, with his forking beard and motley dress, always speaking of his profits, and a Clerk from Oxford, thin and threadbare, who prefers books of philosophy to rich robes. There is a Sergeant at the Law, discreet and wise, and a Franklin, a wealthy landowner, whose house is always open for feasts. A Haberdasher, a Carpenter, a Weaver, a Dyer, and a Tapestry-Maker travel together, all prosperous burgesses. A Cook, who can roast and boil and fry, and a Shipman, from Dartmouth, who knows all the havens from Gothland to Finisterre, are also present. A Doctor of Physic, well-versed in astrology, and a good Wife of Bath, somewhat deaf but skilled in cloth-making, with a bold and handsome face, complete a portion of the company. A truly devout Parson, poor in goods but rich in holy thought and work, and his brother, a Plowman, who lives in peace and perfect charity, are exemplary figures. The company also includes less savory characters: a robust Miller, a thin Reeve, a Summoner with a fire-red face, and a Pardoner with smooth yellow hair.

As they settle in for the night, the Host, a large and bright-eyed man named Harry Bailey, proposes a game to make the journey more entertaining. Each pilgrim shall tell two tales on the way to Canterbury and two on the way back. The pilgrim who tells the tale of "best sentence and moost solas" – that is, the one with the best meaning and most entertainment – shall be treated to a supper at the expense of all the others upon their return to the Tabard Inn. The company readily agrees to this proposal, making the Host the judge of their storytelling contest. The next morning, as they ride forth towards "the Wateryng of Seint Thomas," the Host calls upon them to draw lots to determine who will tell the first tale. The Knight, by chance or fate, draws the shortest straw, and thus, with noble dignity, he begins his story.

The Knight's Tale transports the listeners to ancient Athens, ruled by the noble Duke Theseus. After conquering the Amazons, Theseus returns home with his new wife, Hippolyta, and her young sister, Emelye. His triumphal procession is interrupted by a group of weeping women, whose husbands have been slain by the tyrannical Creon of Thebes, their bodies left unburied. Moved by their plight, Theseus immediately rides to Thebes, defeats Creon, and restores the women's husbands to them for proper burial. Among the spoils of war, two young Theban knights, cousins and sworn brothers, Palamon and Arcite, are found alive amidst the slain. Theseus, however, condemns them to perpetual imprisonment in an Athenian tower.

Years later, from their prison window, Palamon and Arcite glimpse the beautiful Emelye gathering flowers in the garden below. Both men fall instantly and desperately in love with her, their sworn brotherhood dissolving into bitter rivalry. Arcite is eventually released from prison through the intercession of Theseus's friend, Perotheus, but with the condition that he never return to Athens, on pain of death. This freedom, however, torments Arcite, for he is separated from Emelye, while Palamon languishes in prison, yet still able to see her. Arcite, wasting away with love-sickness, is visited in a dream by Mercury, who bids him return to Athens. Disguised as a poor laborer, he takes service in Emelye's household, rising to become a squire. Meanwhile, Palamon escapes from prison, aided by a friend, and by chance, encounters Arcite in a grove. Their long-simmering rivalry erupts into a fierce duel, each fighting for Emelye's love.

Theseus discovers them fighting and, enraged, condemns them to death. But at the pleas of Hippolyta and Emelye, and considering their noble passion, he commutes their sentence. Instead, he decrees a grand tournament to be held a year hence, where each knight, with a hundred chosen men, will fight for Emelye's hand. A magnificent arena is constructed, with temples dedicated to Venus, Mars, and Diana. On the day of the tournament, Palamon prays to Venus for victory in love, Arcite to Mars for victory in battle, and Emelye to Diana, wishing to remain a virgin, or if she must marry, to the one who truly loves her. The gods intervene: Venus promises Palamon his love, Mars assures Arcite of victory in the fight, and Diana informs Emelye that she must marry.

The tournament is a spectacular and brutal affair. Arcite fights valiantly and emerges victorious, capturing Palamon. It seems Emelye will be his. However, through the intervention of Saturn, Arcite's horse stumbles, throwing him to the ground, and he suffers a fatal injury. Though he wins the battle, he dies soon after, leaving Emelye to mourn. After a period of grief, Theseus, believing that after sorrow comes bliss, arranges for Emelye and Palamon to marry. Their union brings a sense of closure and harmony, demonstrating the intricate balance between human desire, fate, and divine will. The Knight's noble romance, filled with chivalry, love, and the whims of fortune, concludes, leaving the pilgrims to ponder its themes.

Following the Knight's tale, and after some discussion, the Host calls upon the Nun's Priest to tell a tale that will gladden the company's hearts. The Nun's Priest readily agrees, and begins his fable. He tells of a poor, elderly widow who lives a simple life in a small cottage, possessing little more than a few animals, including a magnificent rooster named Chanticleer. Chanticleer is a creature of immense pride and beauty, with a crest redder than fine coral, a beak black as jet, and feathers that gleam like burnished gold. He crows with unparalleled accuracy, better than any church clock, and rules over seven hens, his favorite being the lovely Pertelote.

One morning, Chanticleer awakens in a fright, having dreamt of a beast-like creature, a fox, that would seize and kill him. Pertelote, his beloved hen, scolds him, dismissing dreams as mere indigestion or foolishness, and advises him to take a laxative. But Chanticleer, a learned rooster, cites various classical and biblical examples to argue for the prophetic power of dreams, asserting that many a man has met his doom by ignoring such warnings. Despite his profound discourse on dreams and fate, and his initial fear, Chanticleer's vanity and love for Pertelote's counsel lead him to dismiss his own premonition. He struts about the barnyard, proclaiming his happiness and ignoring the lurking danger.

One day, a cunning fox named Daun Russell, who had been lying in wait among the cabbages, suddenly springs forth. The fox, employing flattery, praises Chanticleer's singing voice, claiming it surpasses even that of his father. He challenges Chanticleer to close his eyes and stretch his neck to crow, just as his father supposedly did, to truly demonstrate his magnificent talent. Blinded by pride and vanity, Chanticleer obliges, shutting his eyes and stretching his neck. In that instant, the fox seizes him by the throat and carries him off towards the woods.

A great cry erupts from the barnyard. The hens shriek, the poor widow and her daughters run after the fox, and even the dogs join the chase, creating a chaotic, mock-heroic scene. As Daun Russell flees, Chanticleer, though in mortal peril, cleverly speaks to the fox. He suggests that the fox should pause to boast to his pursuers of his clever capture. The proud fox, swayed by this flattery, opens his mouth to speak, and in that moment, Chanticleer wrenches free and flies to the safety of a high tree. The fox tries once more to entice him down with sweet words, but Chanticleer, having learned his bitter lesson, refuses to be fooled again. He declares that he will never again fall for flattery, nor will he close his eyes when he ought to see. The Nun's Priest concludes his tale with a strong moral, warning all to beware of flatterers and to never ignore warnings or instincts.