The lights dim, and a weighty silence falls upon the audience. From all over Europe and America, these fifteen hundred men and women have come to spend many days in this small German town and many hours in this theater. Some are merely curious. Some are there because it's the fashion. But many have come out of devotion to the musical dramas of a composer they revere, almost worship -- a composer who himself designed and built the theater they sit in. To them, this theater is a temple, and their journey a pilgrimage. For a full minute or more, they wait solemnly in the dark, barely daring to move, their attention resting on the curtained stage below. Then the first musical notes float up and surround them -- high, soft, sustained notes of strings and woodwinds -- from an orchestra entirely hidden from view. The composer's devotees know what vision this shimmering music is meant to impart: the descent from Heaven of the Holy Grail, the drinking cup of Christ at the Last Supper. In their minds, they watch it draw nearer to earth, as the music grows louder and deeper and louder still, at last bursting out in horns, tympani, and cymbals. Then the Grail ascends once more, the music gradually softening until strings and woodwinds lead out as gently as they led in. And now the curtains part, and the audience knows it will soon meet the knight who serves that Grail. . . . For ages 10 and up. Not illustrated! ///////////////////////////////////////////////// Aaron Shepard is the award-winning author of "The Baker's Dozen," "The Sea King's Daughter," "Lady White Snake," and many more children's books. His stories have appeared often in Cricket magazine, while his Web site is known internationally as a prime resource for folktales, storytelling, and reader's theater. Once a professional storyteller, Aaron specializes in lively retellings of folktales and other traditional literature, which have won him honors from the American Library Association, the New York Public Library, the Bank Street College of Education, the National Council for the Social Studies, and the American Folklore Society. Cover artist Wendy Edelson has applied her award-winning skills to a wide range of illustration projects, including picture books, pet portraits, posters, puzzles, and fabric design. Her clients have included Seattle's Woodland Park Zoo, the Seattle Aquarium, the Pacific Northwest Ballet, the U.S. Postal Service, and the American Library Association. ///////////////////////////////////////////////// SAMPLE "Frederick," said the king, "are you certain you wish to accuse this girl?" "Her dreaminess can't fool me," said Frederick. "I have a witness to her crime. But my word alone should be enough, and I'm ready to defend it with my sword." "Then God alone must decide," said the king, "in trial by combat. To the just he will give the victory. Elsa, who will fight for you?" "The knight from my dream," said Elsa. "As his reward, he shall take all my father's lands -- and myself as wife, if he'll have me.
Aaron Shepard is the author of many books, stories, and scripts for young people, as well as professional books and resources for writers and educators. He has also worked professionally in both storytelling and reader's theater, as a performer, director, and teacher trainer. Aaron's lively and meticulous retellings of folktales and other traditional literature have found homes with more than a dozen children's book publishers, large and small, and with the world's top children's literary magazines, winning him honors from the American Library Association, the New York Public Library, the Bank Street College of Education, the National Council for the Social Studies, and the American Folklore Society. His extensive Web site, visited by thousands of teachers and librarians each week, is known internationally as a prime resource for folktales, storytelling, and reader's theater, while his stories and scripts have been featured in textbooks from publishers worldwide, including Scholastic, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, SRA, The College Board, Pearson Education, National Geographic, Oxford University Press, Barron's, Hodder Education, and McGraw-Hill.
I’ve always loved the concept of The Swan Knight, though admittedly it’s not quite revolutionary enough to be considered one of the great tales of all time. Despite its infuriating heroine, The Swan Knight (an oft-forgotten chapter of Arthurian literature connected to the Parzival legends) is a dreamy medieval romance with great imagery and an interesting juxtaposition of Christianity and paganism.
In the city of Antwerp in the duchy of Brabant, King Henry I is presented with an unusual problem: Count Frederick of Telramund, in whose care the son and daughter of the former duke placed, accuses the young duchess Elsa of Brabant of drowning her brother Godfrey in the forest, to which Frederick and his new wife Ortrude bear witness. Praying for salvation and proof of her innocence, Elsa dreams of a knight who promptly arrives in a boat pulled by a swan, promising to defend her in trial by combat on one condition — she must never ask his name, his lineage, or his homeland. The Swan Knight and Elsa are happily married after his victory over Frederick, but the count and his wife begin scheming a way to get Elsa to break her vow to her new husband.
The Swan Knight, as it’s been streamlined in several modern translations, is a simplification / fusion of multiple variations on the legend of the Knight of the Swan — like other knights of the Holy Grail, Lohengrin is the subject of dozens of retellings and reworkings within Arthuriana, but he is usually associated with the Grail, as he is in von Eschenbach’s epic poem Parzival and Wagner’s opera Lohengrin. The version I read (a stylized reworking of the opera by Aaron Shepard, inspired by the translation by Chris Wood) eliminates the swan children element and emphasizes the traditional trial by combat, the doomed love between Elsa and Lohengrin, and the supremacy of God over pagan deities. The Swan Knight is full of Arthurian stereotypes — an intensely virtuous knight, a delicate damsel in distress, a powerful nobleman taking advantage of others, a sorceress conjuring up trouble, and even a fairytale-like set of conditions that prohibits the woman from questioning her husband (Freudian implications, anyone?). The storyline and concept is strikingly romantic, and it draws on some older stories like the myth of Psyche and Eros.
Specifically set in 933 AD in the medieval city of Antwerp, The Swan Knight features the historical Henry I, Duke of Brabant, as its king, who functions in a role similar to King Arthur in the Lancelot, Yvain, and Gawain cycles. Lohengrin himself actually doesn’t feature that much in The Swan Knight, just popping in occasionally to do The Right Thing, behave heroically, . Elsa is arguably the main character of the tale, but she is disappointingly weak and uninteresting — she doesn’t have the cleverness to trick her way out of condemnation, the wisdom to see through Ortrude’s treachery, or even the patience to trust her beloved husband instead of the crazy guy who accused her of murder.
The Swan Knight, like much Arthurian literature, features a standoff between faiths: the newly-established European Christianity of Elsa, Lohengrin, and Henry is vividly contrasted with the old-world paganism and sorcery of Ortrude and Frederick. Ortrude is Jezebel and Delilah combined, scheming a way to make the strong hero lose his power by depriving him of his mysterious secret. Like the biblical story of Elijah and the prophets of Baal, The Swan Knight presents God Himself being called upon to dispense divine justice and to prove His existence in the face of pagan mockery. Not only does God send Lohengrin — one of the knights sworn to protect the Holy Grail — to triumph in a trial by combat, Even Elsa’s weak faith cannot prevent the sovereign hand of God swooping in to set things right. The Swan Knight is, in general, a testament to divine intervention and ordination, as the characters believe that virtually everything is a sign from God.
The Swan Knight ends in both tragedy and triumph, and interestingly it seems much more like an ode to Christianity than a furtherance of Arthurian legend. I admit I’d like a little more substance to chew on, but for the short fairytale it is, I enjoy the swan imagery and the subtle connections with Grail literature.