On the following day the two of them set off for Athens. As soon as Arcite arrived he went to the court of Theseus, and at the great gate there he offered his services to those who passed him. He offered to drudge, to draw water, to carry goods – anything that might help him to get closer to Emily. Eventually, and by great good fortune, he was offered a job in the household of the chamberlain who looked after the fair lady. He watched and waited, taking advantage of any opening to gain access to her. He was expert at cutting wood, and tireless at carrying barrels of water. He was strong, with fine sinews and big bones. He did any kind of work that was required. He was zealous and indefatigable. So by degrees he became a personal servant to fair Emily herself. What name did he give himself? He was known to everyone as Philostratus.

There never was a more well-respected man. He was so gentlemanly, so modest in demeanour, that his reputation spread throughout the royal court. Everyone said that it would be an act of charity on the part of Theseus to give him more honourable employment, in a post where his particular virtues might be nourished and displayed. So his good deeds and eloquence were spread abroad. Theseus himself came to hear of them. What was his response? He made him squire of the chamber, and gave him enough gold to maintain his new position. But Arcite also had another source of gold. He received rental income from his lands in Thebes. It was brought to him privately and secretly, by agents from his home city, and they were so discreet that no one in Athens ever guessed the truth. He spent it wisely, too, and avoided gossip. In this manner he spent the next three years of his life. He worked so well, both in peace and war, that Theseus held no man in higher regard. Now I will leave Arcite for a little while, and turn my attention to Palamon.

Oh dear. What a difference. While Arcite dwelled in bliss, Palamon lived in hell. For seven years he had lain in darkness and despair, fettered in the dark tower, wasted by suffering and suffused with woe. He endured double distress, with his unfulfilled love for Emily increasing his burden of imprisonment. He would never leave his cell. He would never kneel before her or address her. He was close to madness. Who could describe, in plain English, his suffering? I am not the man. So, if you don’t mind, I will pass on.

‘Take your time,’ our Host told him, ‘for this day has been a green day. It will stay fresh in our imaginations.’

‘I thank you. But I must move on.’

In the seventh year of his imprisonment – on 3 May, to be exact – the wheel turned for Palamon. That is the date given in the old books, at least, which are more to be trusted than I am. I have no skill at narration. Whether by fortune or by destiny – if there is any difference, actually – when something is meant to be it is meant to be – at least that is what I think. It was fated, anyway, that soon after midnight on 3 May Palamon escaped from his prison cell with the assistance of a friend. This is how he did it. He had given his gaoler a glass of sweet, spiced wine in which he had mingled some narcotics and the best Theban opium; they had the required effect, and the gaoler slept so soundly that no one could wake him. And so Palamon fled the city. Full speed ahead. Yet the spring night was short, and at break of day he decided to conceal himself in a neighbouring wood; he crept there, fearful of discovery. It was his plan to spend the rest of the day in hiding, shaded by the dark trees, and then to resume his flight to Thebes that night. Once he had arrived there, he planned to ask his friends to join him in making war upon Theseus. He would either die in combat or win Emily to be his wife. There was no third course.

Now, if I may, I will turn back to Arcite. The poor man little knew what was in store for him. Fortune was his foe. Fortune set a trap. And we all know that an hour’s cold can suck out seven years of heat.

The busy lark, the messenger of day, saluted in her song the break of day. The mighty sun rose up, with beams so bright that all the east was laughing in the light; his welcome rays the land receives, and all the dewdrops perish on the leaves. This is the poetry of the morning that greeted Arcite, the squire of the royal chamber, as he rose up from his bed. He decided to pay homage to May, inspired by his desire for Emily; so forth he went upon his fiery steed, and rode some two or three miles beyond the city. Here were the open fields where he could find exercise and recreation. Quite by chance he had ridden towards the wood where Palamon lay concealed. Here he wove for himself a garland of branches, made from the leaves of the woodbine and the hawthorn, and thus crowned he sang out in the sunlight this happy greeting. ‘May, with all your flowers and your green livery, welcome to you! Welcome to the fairest and freshest month! May I deserve this green garland!’ He dismounted from his horse and in lively mood explored a path that led into the wood itself. Where did the path take him? It led him directly to the thicket of trees where Palamon, in fear of his life, had taken refuge. He had no idea that Arcite was close to him. God knows it would have seemed an unlikely coincidence. But there is an old saying, proven many times, that ‘Fields have eyes and woods have ears.’ It behoves all of you to behave wisely, because you never know whom you are going to meet. The course of life is unexpected. So Palamon little knew that the voice he heard was that of Arcite. He just lay very still in the obscure grove.

Meanwhile Arcite was singing his heart out, wandering among the trees and bushes of the wood. Then he stopped suddenly and fell to musing, as lovers will often do. One minute the lover dallies among flowers and the next he is thrust upon thorns. He goes up and down, just like a bucket in a well. Venus, like her day, can change her countenance – Friday can be sunny and then filled with clouds. Friday is unlike any other day of the week. In the same way Venus is quixotic and unpredictable with her votaries.

So after Arcite had sung, he sighed. He sat down upon the trunk of an upturned tree, and began to mourn. ‘Alas,’ he cried, ‘I wish that I had never been born! How long, cruel and pitiless Juno, will you continue to wage war upon Thebes? The royal blood of Cadmus and Amphion, the founders of Thebes, has been sprinkled and spilled. Cadmus was the first king of Thebes. I am of his direct lineage. Yet what has become of me? I am now no better than a slave, or a captive, serving as a squire in the court of the most bitter enemy of our city. Yet Juno heaps ever more shame upon me. I dare not acknowledge my own name. I cannot proclaim myself as noble Arcite. I must hide under the name of the insignificant Philostratus. Oh Juno, and your ruthless son, Mars, you two have destroyed my kith and kin. The only survivors are myself and Palamon, who is now consigned by Theseus to the martyrdom of endless prison. And then, above all else, I am also a martyr. I am a martyr to love. Love has fired its arrow into my heart. My heart is gone before my life is done. I believe that I was destined to this fate before I was born. The eyes of Emily have slain me utterly. They are the warrant of my death. Nothing else in the world is of any consequence to me. Nothing else has meaning for me. Oh Emily, if only I could serve you!’ And, with this, he fell down in a trance. He lay face down for a long time before getting to his feet again.

Palamon, concealed close by, had heard every word of Arcite’s love lament. He felt that a sword, as cold as ice, had been plunged into his heart. He shook with anger. He could no longer stay in hiding. So, like a madman, pale as death, he jumped out of the thicket shouting, ‘Arcite! Arcite! Wicked Arcite! False traitor, Arcite! I have caught you! You proclaim yourself the lover of my lady, Emily, for whom I have suffered so much pain and woe. You are of my blood and allegiance, as I have told you many times, and yet what have you done? You have deceived Theseus. You have lived at his court under a false name. But you will not deal falsely with Emily. I am the only one who can, or will, ever love her. So. One of us will have to die. Look upon Palamon as your mortal enemy. And although I have no weapon in my possession, since by great good fortune I have just escaped from my prison, it makes no difference. Either you will die or else you will renounce your love for Emily. Choose which one you will. Otherwise you will never leave this wood.’