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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:36:53 -0700 |
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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/11417-0.txt b/11417-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d327dfa --- /dev/null +++ b/11417-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7060 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11417 *** + +FRENCH MEDIAEVAL ROMANCES + +_From the Lays of Marie de France_ + +_Translated by Eugene Mason_. + + + +1911 + + + +INTRODUCTION + + +The tales included in this little book of translations are derived +mainly from the "Lays" of Marie de France. I do not profess them to be +a complete collection of her stories in verse. The ascription varies. +Poems which were included in her work but yesterday are withdrawn +to-day, and new matter suggested by scholars to take the place of the +old. I believe it to be, however, a far fuller version of Marie's +"Lays" than has yet appeared, to my knowledge, in English. Marie's +poems are concerned chiefly with love. To complete my book I have +added two famous mediaeval stories on the same excellent theme. +This, then, may be regarded as a volume of French romances, dealing, +generally, with one aspect of mediaeval life. + +An age so feminist in its sympathies as ours should be attracted the +more easily to Marie de France, because she was both an artist and a +woman. To deliver oneself through any medium is always difficult. For +a woman of the Middle Ages to express herself publicly by any means +whatever was almost impossible. A great lady, a great Saint or +church-woman, might do so very occasionally. But the individuality +of the ordinary wife was merged in that of her husband, and for one +Abbess of Shrewsbury or Whitby, for one St. Clare or St. Hilda, there +were how many thousand obscure sisters, who were buried in the daily +routine of a life hidden with Christ in God! Doubtless the artistic +temperament burst out now and again in woman, and would take no +denial. It blew where it listed, appearing in the most unexpected +places. A young nun in a Saxon convent, for instance, would write +little dramas in Latin for the amusement and edification of the noble +maidens under her charge. These comedies, written in the days of the +Emperor Otho, can be read with pleasure in the reign of King George, +by those who find fragrant the perfumes of the past. They deal with +the pious legends of the Saints, and are regarded with wistful +admiration by the most modern of Parisian playwrights. In their +combination of audacity and simplicity they could only be performed by +Saxon religious in the times of Otho, or by marionettes in the more +self-conscious life of to-day. Or, again, an Abbess, the protagonist +of one of the great love stories of the world, by sheer force of +personality, would compose letters to one--how immeasurably her moral +inferior, in spite of his genius--expressing with an unexampled +poignancy the most passionate emotions of the heart. Or, to take my +third illustration, here are a woman's poems written in an age when +literature was almost entirely in the hands of men. Consider the +strength of character which alone induced these three ladies to stray +from the beaten paths of their sex. To the average woman it was +enough to be an object of art herself, or to be the inspiration of +masterpieces by man. But these three women of the Middle Ages--and +such as they--shunned the easier way, and, in their several spheres, +were by deliberate effort, self-conscious artists. + +The place and date of birth of Marie de France are unknown--indeed +the very century in which she lived has been a matter of dispute. Her +poems are written in the French of northern France; but that does not +prove her necessarily to be a Frenchwoman. French was the tongue +of the English Court, and many Englishmen have written in the same +language. Indeed, it is a very excellent vehicle for expression. +Occasionally, Marie would insert English words in her French text, the +better to convey her meaning; but it does not follow therefrom that +the romances were composed in England. It seems strange that so +few positive indications of her race and home are given in her +poems--nothing is contained beyond her Christian name and the bare +statement that she was of France. She took great pride in her work, +which she wrought to the best of her ability, and was extremely +jealous of that bubble-reputation. Yet whilst this work was an +excellent piece of self-portraiture, it reveals not one single fact +or date on which to go. A consensus of critical opinion presumes that +Marie was a subject of the English Crown, born in an ancient town +called Pitre, some three miles above Rouen, in the Duchy of Normandy. +This speculation is based largely on the unwonted topographical +accuracy of her description of Pitre, given in "The Lay of the Two +Lovers." Such evidence, perhaps, is insufficient to obtain a judgment +in a Court of Law. The date when Marie lived was long a matter of +dispute. The Prologue to her "Lays" contains a dedication to some +unnamed King; whilst her "Fables" is dedicated to a certain Count +William. These facts prove her to have been a person of position and +repute. The King was long supposed to be Henry the Third of England, +and this would suggest that she lived in the thirteenth century. +An early scholar, the Abbé de La Rue, in fact, said that this was +"undoubtedly" the case, giving cogent reasons in support of his +contention. But modern scholarship, in the person of Gaston Paris, +has decided that the King was Henry the Second, of pious memory; the +Count, William Longsword, Earl of Salisbury, his natural son by Fair +Rosamund; and that Marie must be placed in the second half of the +twelfth century. This shows that scholarship is not an exact science, +and that such words as "doubtless" should not be employed more than +necessary. A certain Eastern philosopher, when engaged in instructing +the youth of his country, used always to conclude his lectures with +the unvarying formula, "But, gentlemen, all that I have told you is +probably wrong." This sage was a wise man (not always the same thing), +and his example should be had in remembrance. It seems possible (and +one hesitates to use a stronger word) that the "Lays" of Marie were +actually written at the Court of Henry of England. From political +ambition the King was married to Eleanor of Aquitaine, a lady of +literary tastes, who came from a family in which the patronage of +singers was a tradition. Her husband, too, had a pronounced liking for +literature. He was fond of books, and once paid a visit to Glastonbury +to visit King Arthur's tomb. These, perhaps, are limited virtues, but +Henry the Second had need of every rag. It is somewhat difficult to +recognise in that King of the Prologue, "in whose heart all gracious +things are rooted," the actual King who murdered Becket; who turned +over picture-books at Mass, and never confessed or communicated. It is +yet more difficult to perceive "joy as his handmaid" who, because of +the loss of a favourite city, threatened to revenge himself on God, by +robbing Him of that thing--_i.e._, the soul--He desired most in him; +and whose very last words were an echo of Job's curse upon the day +that he was born. Marie's phrases may be regarded, perhaps, as a +courtly flourish, rather than as conveying truth with mathematical +precision. If not, we should be driven to suggest an alternative to +the favourite simile of lying like an epitaph. But I think it unlikely +that Marie suffered with a morbidly sensitive conscience. There is +little enough real devotion to be met with in her "Lays"; and if +her last book--a translation from the Latin of the Purgatory of St. +Patrick--is on a subject she avoids in her earlier work, it was +written under the influence of some high prelate, and may be regarded +as a sign that she watched the shadows cast by the western sun +lengthening on the grass. + +Gaston Paris suggests 1175 as an approximate date for the composition +of the "Lays" of Marie de France. Their success was immediate and +unequivocal, as indeed was to be expected in the case of a lady +situated so fortunately at Court. We have proof of this in the +testimony of Denis Pyramus, the author who wrote a Life of St. Edmund +the King, early in the following century. He says, in that poem, "And +also Dame Marie, who turned into rhyme and made verses of 'Lays' which +are not in the least true. For these she is much praised, and her +rhyme is loved everywhere; for counts, barons, and knights greatly +admire it, and hold it dear. And they love her writing so much, and +take such pleasure in it, that they have it read, and often copied. +These Lays are wont to please ladies, who listen to them with delight, +for they are after their own hearts." It is no wonder that the lords +and ladies of her century were so enthralled by Marie's romances, for +her success was thoroughly well deserved. Even after seven hundred +years her colours remain surprisingly vivid, and if the tapestry is +now a little worn and faded in places, we still follow with interest +the movements of the figures wrought so graciously upon the arras. Of +course her stories are not original; but was any plot original at +any period of the earth's history? This is not only an old, but an +iterative world. The source of Marie's inspiration is perfectly clear, +for she states it emphatically in quite a number of her Lays. This +adventure chanced in Brittany, and in remembrance thereof the Bretons +made a Lay, which I heard sung by the minstrel to the music of his +rote. Marie's part consisted in reshaping this ancient material in her +own rhythmic and coloured words. Scholars tell us that the essence of +her stories is of Celtic rather than of Breton origin. It may be so; +though to the lay mind this is not a matter of great importance one +way or the other; but it seems better to accept a person's definite +statement until it is proved to be false. The Breton or Celtic +imagination had peculiar qualities of dreaminess, and magic and +mystery. Marie's mind was not cast in a precisely similar mould. +Occasionally she is successful enough; but generally she gives the +effect of building with a substance the significance of which she does +not completely realise. She may be likened to a child playing with +symbols which, in the hand of the enchanter, would be of tremendous +import. Her treatment of Isoude, for example, in "The Lay of the +Honeysuckle," is quite perfect in tone, and, indeed, is a little +masterpiece in its own fashion. But her sketch of Guenevere in "The +Lay of Sir Launfal" is of a character that one does not recall with +pleasure. To see how Arthur's Queen might be treated, we have but +to turn to the pages of a contemporary, and learn from Chrestien de +Troyes' "Knight of the Cart," how an even more considerable poet +than Marie could deal with a Celtic legend. The fact is that Marie's +romances derive farther back than any Breton or Celtic dream. They +were so old that they had blown like thistledown about the four +quarters of the world. Her princesses came really neither from Wales +nor Brittany. They were of that stuff from which romance is shaped. +"Her face was bright as the day of union; her hair dark as the night +of separation; and her mouth was magical as Solomon's seal." You can +parallel her "Lays" from folklore, from classical story and antiquity. +Father and son fight together unwittingly in "The Lay of Milon"; +but Rustum had striven with Sohrab long before in far Persia, and +Cuchulain with his child in Ireland. Such stories are common property. +The writer takes his own where he finds it. Marie is none the less +admirable because her stories were narrated by the first man in Eden; +neither are Boccaccio and the Countess D'Aulnoy blameworthy since they +told again what she already had related so well. Marie, indeed, was an +admirable narrator. That was one of her shining virtues. As a piece of +artful tale telling, a specimen of the craft of keeping a situation in +suspense, the arrival of the lady before Arthur's Court, in "The Lay +of Sir Launfal," requires a deal of beating. The justness and fineness +of her sentiment in all that concerns the delicacies of the human +heart are also remarkable. But her true business was that of the +storyteller. In that trade she was almost unapproachable in her day. +There may have been--indeed, there was--a more considerable poet +living; but a more excellent writer of romances, than the author of +"Eliduc," it would have been difficult to find. + +The ladies who found the "Lays" of Marie after their own hearts +were not only admirers of beautiful stories; they had the delicate +privilege also of admiring themselves in their habit as they +lived--perhaps even lovelier than in reality--amidst their accustomed +surroundings. The pleasure of a modern reader in such tales as these +is enhanced by the light they throw on the household arrangements and +customs of the gentlefolk of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. It +may be of interest to consider some of these domestic arrangements, as +illustrated by stories included in the present volume. + +The corporate life of a mediaeval household centered in the hall. It +was office and dining and billiard room, and was common to gentle and +simple alike. The hall was by far the largest room in the house. It +was lighted by windows, and warmed by an open fire of logs. The smoke +drifted about the roof, escaping finally by the simple means of a +lantern placed immediately above the hearth. A beaten floor was +covered by rushes and fresh hay, or with rugs in that part affected by +the more important members of the household. The lord himself and his +wife sat in chairs upon a raised daïs. The retainers were seated +on benches around the wall, and before them was spread the dining +table--a mere board upon trestles--which was removed when once the +meal was done. After supper, chess and draughts were played, or (as +we may see in "The Lay of the Thorn") minstrels sang ballads and the +guest contributed to the general entertainment by the recital of such +jests and adventures as commended themselves to his taste. If the hall +may be considered as the dining room of the mediaeval home, the garden +might almost be looked upon as the drawing room. You would probably +get more real privacy in the garden than in any other part of the +crowded castle, including the lady's chamber. It is no wonder that +we read of Guenevere taking Launfal aside for a little private +conversation in her pleasaunce. It was not only the most private, +but also the most delightful room in the house--ceiled with blue and +carpeted with green. The garden was laid out elaborately with a perron +and many raised seats. Trees stood about the lawn in tubs, and there +was generally a fountain playing in the centre, or possibly a pond, +stocked with fish. Fruit trees and flower beds grew thickly about the +garden, and a pleasanter place of perfume and colour and shade it +would be difficult to imagine in the summer heat. The third room of +which we hear continually in these romances is the lady's chamber. It +served the purpose of a boudoir as well as that of a sleeping room, +and consequently had little real privacy. It contained the marriage +chest with its store of linen, and also the bed. This bed recurs +eternally in mediæval tales. It was used as a seat during the day, and +as a resting-place of nights. It was a magnificent erection, carved +and gilded, and inlaid with ivory. Upon it was placed a mattress of +feathers, and a soft pillow. The sheets were of linen or silk, and +over all was spread a coverlet of some precious material. An excellent +description of such a couch is given in "The Lay of Gugemar." This +chamber served also as a bath room, and there the bath was taken, +piping hot, in the strange vessel, fashioned somewhat like a churn, +that we see in pictures of the Middle Ages. + +Of the dress of the ladies who moved about the castle, seeing +themselves reflected from Marie's pages as in a polished mirror, I +am not competent to speak. The type of beauty preferred by the old +romancers was that of a child's princess of fairy tale--blue-eyed, +golden-haired, and ruddy of cheek. The lady would wear a shift of +linen, "white as meadow flower." Over this was worn a garment of fur +or silk, according to the season; and, above all, a vividly coloured +gown, all in one line from neck to feet, shapen closely to the figure, +or else the more loosely fitting bliaut. Her girdle clipped her +closely about the waist, falling to the hem of her skirt, and her feet +were shod in soundless shoes, without heels. The hair was arranged in +two long braids, brought forward over her shoulders; as worn by those +smiling Queens wrought upon the western porch of Chartres Cathedral. +Out of doors, and, indeed, frequently within, as may be proved by a +reference to "The Lay of the Ash Tree," the lady was clad in a mantle +and a hood. It must have taken a great deal of time and travail to +appear so dainty a production. But to become poetry for others, it is +necessary for a woman first to be prose to herself. + +I am afraid the raw material of this radiant divinity had much to +endure before she suffered her sea change. In mediaeval illustrations +we see the maiden sitting demurely in company, with downcast eyes, and +hands folded modestly in her lap. This unnatural restraint was induced +by the lavish compulsion of the rod. If there was one text, above all +others, approved and acted upon by fathers and mothers of the Middle +Ages, it was that exhorting parents not to cocker their child, neither +to wink at his follies, but to beat him on the sides with a stick. +Turn to "The Lay of the Thorn," and mark the gusto with which a mother +disciplines her maid. Parents trained their children with blows. +Husbands (ah, the audacity of the mediaeval husband) scattered the +like seeds of kindness on their wives. In a book written for the +edification of his unmarried daughters, Chaucer's contemporary, the +Knight of La Tour Landry, tells the following interesting anecdote. +A man had a scolding wife, who railed ungovernably upon him before +strangers, "and he that was angry of her governance smote her with his +first down to the earth; and then with his foot he struck her on the +visage, and broke her nose; and all her life after that she had her +nose crooked, the which shent and disfigured her visage after, that +she might not for shame show her visage, it was so foul blemished. And +this she had for her evil and great language that she was wont to say +to her husband. And therefore the wife ought to suffer, and let the +husband have the words, and to be master." May I give yet another +illustration before we pass from the subject. This time it is taken +not from a French knight, but from a sermon of the great Italian +preacher, St. Bernardino of Siena. "There are men who can bear more +patiently with a hen that lays a fresh egg every day than with their +own wives; and sometimes when the hen breaks a pipkin or a cup he +will spare it a beating, simply for love of the fresh egg which he +is unwilling to lose. Oh, raving madmen! who cannot bear a word from +their own wives, though they bear them such fair fruit; but when the +woman speaks a word more than they like, then they catch up a stick, +and begin to cudgel her; while the hen that cackles all day, and gives +you no rest, you take patience with her for the sake of her miserable +egg--and sometimes she will break more in your house than she herself +is worth, yet you bear it in patience for the egg's sake. Many +fidgetty fellows, who sometimes see their wives turn out less neat and +dainty than they would like, smite them forthwith; and meanwhile the +hen may make a mess on the table, and you suffer her. Have patience; +it is not right to beat your wife for every cause, no!" + +At the commencement of this Introduction I stated that Marie's +romances are concerned mainly with love. Her talent was not very +wide nor rich, and I have no doubt that there were facets of her +personality which she was unable to get upon paper. The prettiest +girl in the world can only give what she has to give. By the time any +reader reaches the end of this volume he will be assured that the +stories are stories of love. Probably he will have noticed also that, +in many cases, the lady who inspires the most delicate of sentiments +is, incidentally, a married woman. He may ask why this was so; and in +answer I propose to conclude my paper with a few observations upon the +subject of mediaeval love. + +I doubt in my own mind whether romance writers do not exaggerate what +was certainly a characteristic of the Middle Ages. To be ordinary +is to be uninteresting; and it is obvious that the stranger the +experience, the more likely is it to attract the interest and +attention of the hearer. Blessed is the person--as well as the +country--who has no history. But it was really very difficult for +the twelfth century poet to write a love story, with a maiden as the +central figure. The noble maiden seldom had a love story. It is +true enough that she was sometimes referred to in the choice of her +husband: two young ladies in "A Story of Beyond the Sea" are both +consulted in the matter. As a rule, however, her inclination was not +permitted to stand in the way of the interests of her parents or +guardians. She was betrothed in childhood, and married very young, for +mercenary or political reasons, to a husband much older than herself. +We read of a girl of twelve being married to a man of fifty. There was +no great opportunity for a love story here; and the strange entreaty, +on the part of the nameless French poet, to love the maidens for the +sake of Christ's love, passed over the heads of the romance writers. +Not that the mediæval maidens showed any shrinking from matrimony. +"Fair daughter, I have given you a husband." "Blessed be God," said +the damsel. There spoke a contented spirit. Things have changed, and +we can but sigh after the good old times. + +But the maiden inevitably became the wife, and the whirligig of Time +brought in his revenges. The lady now found herself the most important +member of her sex, in a dwelling filled with men. She had few women +about her person, and the confidant of a great dame in old romance is, +frequently enough, her chamberlain. These young men had no chance of +marriage, and naturally strove to gain the attention of a lady, whose +favour was to them so important a matter. A mediæval knight was the +sworn champion of God and the ladies--but more especially the latter. +The chatelaine, herself, found time hang heavily on her hands. +Amusements were few; books limited in number; a husband not of +absorbing interest; so she turned to such distractions as presented +themselves. The prettier a lady, the sweeter the incense and flattery +swung beneath her nose; for this was one of the disadvantages of +marrying an attractive woman. "It is hard to keep a wife whom everyone +admires; and if no one admires her it is hard to have to live with her +yourself." One of these distractions took the shape of Courts of Love, +where the bored but literary chatelaine discussed delicate problems of +conduct pertaining to the heart. The minstrel about the lady's castle, +for his part, sought her favourable notice not only by his songs but +also by giving an object lesson of his melancholy condition. One would +imagine that his proceedings were not always calculated to further +their purpose. A famous singer, for instance, in honour of a lady who +was named Lupa, caused himself to be sewn in a wolf's skin, and ran +before the hounds till he was pulled down, half dead. Another great +minstrel and lover bought a leper's gown and bowl and clapper from +some afflicted wretch. He mutilated his forefinger, and sat before his +lady's door, in the company of a piteous crowd of sick and maimed, to +await her alms. No doubt he trusted that his devotion would procure +him a different kind of charity. From such discussions as these, and +from conduct such as this, a type of love came into being which was +peculiar to the period. Since the lovers were not bound in the sweet +and common union of children and home, since on the side of the lady +all was of grace and nought of debt, they searched out other bands to +unite them together. These they found in a system of devotion, silence +and faithfulness, which added a dignity to their relations. These +virtues they took so seriously that we find the Chatelaine of Vergi +dying because she believed her lover to have betrayed her trust. The +mediaeval romancer contemplated such unions with joy and pity; but +for all their virtues we must not deceive ourselves with words. Such +honour was rooted in dishonour, and the measure of their guilt was +that they debased the moral currency. Presently the greatest of all +the poets of the Middle Ages would arise, to teach a different fashion +of devotion. His was a love that sought no communion with its object, +neither speech nor embrace. It was sufficient for Dante to contemplate +Beatrice from afar, as one might kneel before the picture of a saint. +I do not say that a love like this--so spiritual and so aloof--will +ever be possible to men. It did not suffice even to Dante, for all +his tremendous moral muscle. Human love must always and inevitably be +founded on a physical basis. But the burning drop of idealism that +Dante contributed to the passion of the Middle Ages has made possible +the love of which we now and again catch a glimpse in the union of +select natures. And that the seed of such flowering may be carried +about the world is one of the fairest hopes and possibilities of the +human race. + +EUGENE MASON. + +The originals of these narratives are to be found in Roquefort's +edition of the Poésies de Marie de France; in a volume of the +Nouvelles Françoises en Prose, edited by Moland and D'Héricault; and +in M. Gaston Raynaud's text of La Chatelaine de Vergi. + + + + +CONTENTS + + +INTRODUCTION + +I. PROLOGUE BY WAY OF DEDICATION + +II. THE LAY OF GUGEMAR + +III. THE LAY OF THE DOLOROUS KNIGHT + +IV. THE LAY OF ELIDUC + +V. THE LAY OF THE NIGHTINGALE + +VI. THE LAY OF SIR LAUNFAL + +VII. THE LAY OF THE TWO LOVERS + +VIII. THE LAY OF THE WERE-WOLF + +IX. THE LAY OF THE ASH TREE + +X. THE LAY OF THE HONEYSUCKLE + +XI. THE LAY OF EQUITAN + +XII. THE LAY OF MILON + +XIII. THE LAY OF YONEC + +XIV. THE LAY OF THE THORN + +XV. THE LAY OF GRAELENT + +XVI. A STORY OF BEYOND THE SEA + +XVII. THE CHATELAINE OF VERGI + + + + + +I + + +PROLOGUE + +BY WAY OF DEDICATION + +Those to whom God has given the gift of comely speech, should not hide +their light beneath a bushel, but should willingly show it abroad. If +a great truth is proclaimed in the ears of men, it brings forth fruit +a hundred-fold; but when the sweetness of the telling is praised of +many, flowers mingle with the fruit upon the branch. + +According to the witness of Priscian, it was the custom of ancient +writers to express obscurely some portions of their books, so that +those who came after might study with greater diligence to find the +thought within their words. The philosophers knew this well, and were +the more unwearied in labour, the more subtle in distinctions, so that +the truth might make them free. They were persuaded that he who would +keep himself unspotted from the world should search for knowledge, +that he might understand. To set evil from me, and to put away my +grief, I purposed to commence a book. I considered within myself +what fair story in the Latin or Romance I could turn into the common +tongue. But I found that all the stories had been written, and +scarcely it seemed the worth my doing, what so many had already done. +Then I called to mind those Lays I had so often heard. I doubted +nothing--for well I know--that our fathers fashioned them, that men +should bear in remembrance the deeds of those who have gone before. +Many a one, on many a day, the minstrel has chanted to my ear. I would +not that they should perish, forgotten, by the roadside. In my turn, +therefore, I have made of them a song, rhymed as well as I am able, +and often has their shaping kept me sleepless in my bed. + +In your honour, most noble and courteous King, to whom joy is a +handmaid, and in whose heart all gracious things are rooted, I have +brought together these Lays, and told my tales in seemly rhyme. Ere +they speak for me, let me speak with my own mouth, and say, "Sire, I +offer you these verses. If you are pleased to receive them, the fairer +happiness will be mine, and the more lightly I shall go all the days +of my life. Do not deem that I think more highly of myself than I +ought to think, since I presume to proffer this, my gift." Hearken now +to the commencement of the matter. + + + + +II + + +THE LAY OF GUGEMAR + +Hearken, oh gentles, to the words of Marie. When the minstrel tells +his tale, let the folk about the fire heed him willingly. For his part +the singer must be wary not to spoil good music with unseemly words. +Listen, oh lordlings, to the words of Marie, for she pains herself +grievously not to forget this thing. The craft is hard--then approve +the more sweetly him who carols the tune. But this is the way of the +world, that when a man or woman sings more tunably than his fellows, +those about the fire fall upon him, pell-mell, for reason of their +envy. They rehearse diligently the faults of his song, and steal away +his praise with evil words. I will brand these folk as they deserve. +They, and such as they, are like mad dogs--cowardly and felon--who +traitorously bring to death men better than themselves. Now let the +japer, and the smiler with his knife, do me what harm they may. Verily +they are in their right to speak ill of me. + +Hearken, oh gentles, to the tale I set before you, for thereof the +Bretons already have made a Lay. I will not do it harm by many words, +and here is the commencement of the matter. According to text and +scripture, now I relate a certain adventure, which bechanced in the +realm of Brittany, in days long gone before. + +In that time when Arthur maintained his realm, the now in peace, the +now in war, the King counted amongst his vassals a certain baron, +named Oridial. This knight was lord of Leon, and was very near to his +prince's heart, both in council chamber and in field. From his wife he +had gotten two children, the one a son and the other a fair daughter. +Nogent, he had called the damsel at the font, and the dansellon was +named Gugemar--no goodlier might be found in any realm. His mother had +set all her love upon the lad, and his father shewed him every good +that he was able. When the varlet was no more a child, Oridial sent +him to the King, to be trained as a page in the courtesies of the +Court. Right serviceable was he in his station, and meetly praised +of all. The term of his service having come, and he being found of +fitting years and knowledge, the King made him knight with his own +hand, and armed him in rich harness, according to his wish. So Gugemar +gave gifts to all those about his person, and bidding farewell, took +leave, and departed from the Court. Gugemar went his way to Flanders, +being desirous of advancement, for in that kingdom ever they have +strife and war. Neither in Loraine nor Burgundy, Anjou nor Gascony, +might be found in that day a better knight than he, no, nor one his +peer. He had but one fault, since of love he took no care. There was +neither dame nor maiden beneath the sky, however dainty and kind, to +whom he gave thought or heed, though had he required her love of any +damsel, very willingly would she have granted his desire. Many there +were who prayed him for his love, but might have no kiss in return. So +seeing that he refrained his heart in this fashion, men deemed him a +strange man, and one fallen into a perilous case. + +In the flower of his deeds the good knight returned to his own land, +that he might see again his father and lord, his mother and his +sister, even as he very tenderly desired. He lodged with them for the +space of a long month, and at the end of that time had envy to hunt +within the wood. The night being come, Gugemar summoned his prickers +and his squires, and early in the morning rode within the forest. +Great pleasure had Gugemar in the woodland, and much he delighted in +the chase. A tall stag was presently started, and the hounds being +uncoupled, all hastened in pursuit--the huntsmen before, and the good +knight following after, winding upon his horn. Gugemar rode at a great +pace after the quarry, a varlet riding beside, bearing his bow, his +arrows and his spear. He followed so hotly that he over-passed the +chase. Gazing about him he marked, within a thicket, a doe hiding with +her fawn. Very white and wonderful was this beast, for she was without +spot, and bore antlers upon her head. The hounds bayed about her, but +might not pull her down. Gugemar bent his bow, and loosed a shaft +at the quarry. He wounded the deer a little above the hoof, so that +presently she fell upon her side. But the arrow glanced away, and +returning upon itself, struck Gugemar in the thigh, so grievously, +that straightway he fell from his horse upon the ground. Gugemar lay +upon the grass, beside the deer which he had wounded to his hurt. He +heard her sighs and groans, and perceived the bitterness of her pity. +Then with mortal speech the doe spake to the wounded man in such +fashion as this, "Alas, my sorrow, for now am I slain. But thou, +Vassal, who hast done me this great wrong, do not think to hide from +the vengeance of thy destiny. Never may surgeon and his medicine heal +your hurt. Neither herb nor root nor potion can ever cure the wound +within your flesh: For that there is no healing. The only balm to +close that sore must be brought by a woman, who for her love will +suffer such pain and sorrow as no woman in the world has endured +before. And to the dolorous lady, dolorous knight. For your part you +shall do and suffer so great things for her, that not a lover beneath +the sun, or lovers who are dead, or lovers who yet shall have their +day, but shall marvel at the tale. Now, go from hence, and let me die +in peace." + +Gugemar was wounded twice over--by the arrow, and by the words he was +dismayed to hear. He considered within himself to what land he must go +to find this healing for his hurt, for he was yet too young to die. He +saw clearly, and told it to his heart, that there was no lady in his +life to whom he could run for pity, and be made whole of his wound. He +called his varlet before him, + +"Friend," said he, "go forthwith, and bring my comrades to this place, +for I have to speak with them." + +The varlet went upon his errand, leaving his master sick with the heat +and fever of his hurt. When he was gone, Gugemar tore the hem from his +shirt, and bound it straitly about his wound. He climbed painfully +upon the saddle, and departed without more ado, for he was with child +to be gone before any could come to stay him from his purpose. A green +path led through the deep forest to the plain, and his way across the +plain brought him to a cliff, exceeding high, and to the sea. Gugemar +looked upon the water, which was very still, for this fair harbourage +was land-locked from the main. Upon this harbour lay one only vessel, +bearing a rich pavilion of silk, daintily furnished both without and +within, and well it seemed to Gugemar that he had seen this ship +before. Beneath the sky was no ship so rich or precious, for there was +not a sail but was spun of silk, and not a plank, from keel to mast, +but showed of ebony. Too fair was the nave for mortal man, and Gugemar +held it in sore displeasure. He marvelled greatly from what country it +had come, and wondered long concerning this harbour, and the ship that +lay therein. Gugemar got him down from his horse upon the shore, and +with mighty pain and labour climbed within the ship. He trusted to +find merchantmen and sailors therein, but there was none to guard, and +none he saw. Now within the pavilion was a very rich bed, carved by +cunning workmen in the days of King Solomon. This fair bed was wrought +of cypress wood and white ivory, adorned with gold and gems most +precious. Right sweet were the linen cloths upon the bed, and so soft +the pillow, that he who lay thereon would sleep, were he sadder than +any other in the world. The counterpane was of purple from the vats +of Alexandria, and over all was set a right fair coverlet of cloth of +gold. The pavilion was litten by two great waxen torches, placed in +candlesticks of fine gold, decked with jewels worth a lord's ransom. +So the wounded knight looked on ship and pavilion, bed and candle, and +marvelled greatly. Gugemar sat him down upon the bed for a little, +because of the anguish of his wound. After he had rested a space he +got upon his feet, that he might quit the vessel, but he found that +for him there was no return. A gentle wind had filled the sails, and +already he was in the open sea. When Gugemar saw that he was far from +land, he was very heavy and sorrowful. He knew not what to do, by +reason of the mightiness of his hurt. But he must endure the adventure +as best he was able; so he prayed to God to take him in His keeping, +and in His good pleasure to bring him safe to port, and deliver him +from the peril of death. Then climbing upon the couch, he laid his +head upon the pillow, and slept as one dead, until, with vespers, the +ship drew to that haven where he might find the healing for his hurt. + +Gugemar had come to an ancient city, where the King of that realm held +his court and state. This King was full of years, and was wedded to +a dame of high degree. The lady was of tender age, passing fresh and +fair, and sweet of speech to all. Therefore was the King jealous of +his wife beyond all measure. Such is the wont of age, for much it +fears that old and young cannot mate together, and that youth will +turn to youth. This is the death in life of the old. + +The castle of this ancient lord had a mighty keep. Beneath this tower +was a right fair orchard, together with a close, shut in by a wall of +green marble, very strong and high. This wall had one only gate, and +the door was watched of warders, both night and day. On the other side +of this garden was the sea, so that none might do his errand in the +castle therefrom, save in a boat. To hold his dame in the greater +surety, the King had built a bower within the wall; there was no +fairer chamber beneath the sun. The first room was the Queen's chapel. +Beyond this was the lady's bedchamber, painted all over with shapes +and colours most wonderful to behold. On one wall might be seen Dame +Venus, the goddess of Love, sweetly flushed as when she walked the +water, lovely as life, teaching men how they should bear them in loyal +service to their lady. On another wall, the goddess threw Ovid's book +within a fire of coals. A scroll issuing from her lips proclaimed that +those who read therein, and strove to ease them of their pains, would +find from her neither service nor favour. In this chamber the lady was +put in ward, and with her a certain maiden to hold her company. This +damsel was her niece, since she was her sister's child, and there was +great love betwixt the twain. When the Queen walked within the garden, +or went abroad, this maiden was ever by her side, and came again with +her to the house. Save this damsel, neither man nor woman entered in +the bower, nor issued forth from out the wall. One only man possessed +the key of the postern, an aged priest, very white and frail. This +priest recited the service of God within the chapel, and served the +Queen's plate and cup when she ate meat at table. + +Now, on a day, the Queen had fallen asleep after meat, and on her +awaking would walk a little in the garden. She called her companion to +her, and the two went forth to be glad amongst the flowers. As they +looked across the sea they marked a ship drawing near the land, rising +and falling upon the waves. Very fearful was the Queen thereat, for +the vessel came to anchorage, though there was no helmsman to direct +her course. The dame's face became sanguine for dread, and she turned +her about to flee, because of her exceeding fear. Her maiden, who was +of more courage than she, stayed her mistress with many comforting +words. For her part she was very desirous to know what this thing +meant. She hastened to the shore, and laying aside her mantle, climbed +within this wondrous vessel. Thereon she found no living soul, save +only the knight sleeping fast within the pavilion. The damsel looked +long upon the knight, for pale he was as wax, and well she deemed +him dead. She returned forthwith to the Queen, and told her of this +marvel, and of the good knight who was slain. + +"Let us go together on the ship," replied the lady. "If he be dead we +may give him fitting burial, and the priest shall pray meetly for his +soul. Should he be yet alive perchance he will speak, and tell us of +his case." + +Without more tarrying the two damsels mounted on the ship, the lady +before, and her maiden following after. When the Queen entered in the +pavilion she stayed her feet before the bed, for joy and grief of what +she saw. She might not refrain her eyes from gazing on the knight, +for her heart was ravished with his beauty, and she sorrowed beyond +measure, because of his grievous hurt. To herself she said, "In a bad +hour cometh the goodly youth." She drew near the bed, and placing her +hand upon his breast, found that the flesh was warm, and that the +heart beat strongly in his side. Gugemar awoke at the touch, and +saluted the dame as sweetly as he was able, for well he knew that he +had come to a Christian land. The lady, full of thought, returned him +his salutation right courteously, though the tears were yet in her +eyes. Straightway she asked of him from what realm he came, and of +what people, and in what war he had taken his hurt. + +"Lady," answered Gugemar, "in no battle I received this wound. If it +pleases you to hear my tale I will tell you the truth, and in nothing +will I lie. I am a knight of Little Brittany. Yesterday I chased a +wonderful white deer within the forest. The shaft with which I struck +her to my hurt, returned again on me, and caused this wound upon my +thigh, which may never be searched, nor made whole. For this wondrous +Beast raised her plaint in a mortal tongue. She cursed me loudly, with +many evil words, swearing that never might this sore be healed, save +by one only damsel in the world, and her I know not where to find. +When I heard my luckless fate I left the wood with what speed I might, +and coming to a harbour, not far from thence, I lighted on this ship. +For my sins I climbed therein. Then without oars or helm this boat +ravished me from shore; so that I know not where I have come, nor what +is the name of this city. Fair lady, for God's love, counsel me of +your good grace, for I know not where to turn, nor how to govern the +ship." + +The lady made answer, "Fair sir, willingly shall I give you such good +counsel as I may. This realm and city are the appanage of my husband. +He is a right rich lord, of high lineage, but old and very full of +years. Also he is jealous beyond all measure; therefore it is that I +see you now. By reason of his jealousy he has shut me fast between +high walls, entered by one narrow door, with an ancient priest to keep +the key. May God requite him for his deed. Night and day I am guarded +in this prison, from whence I may never go forth, without the +knowledge of my lord. Here are my chamber and my chapel, and here I +live, with this, my maiden, to bear me company. If it pleases you to +dwell here for a little, till you may pass upon your way, right gladly +we shall receive you, and with a good heart we will tend your wound, +till you are healed." + +When Gugemar heard this speech he rejoiced greatly. He thanked the +lady with many sweet words, and consented to sojourn in her hall +awhile. He raised himself upon his couch, and by the courtesy of the +damsels left the ship. Leaning heavily upon the lady, at the end he +won to her maiden's chamber, where there was a fair bed covered with a +rich dossal of broidered silk, edged with fur. When he was entered in +this bed, the damsels came bearing clear water in basins of gold, for +the cleansing of his hurt. They stanched the blood with a towel of +fine linen, and bound the wound strictly, to his exceeding comfort. So +after the vesper meal was eaten, the lady departed to her own chamber, +leaving the knight in much ease and content. + +Now Gugemar set his love so fondly upon the lady that he forgot his +father's house. He thought no more of the anguish of his hurt, because +of another wound that was beneath his breast. He tossed and sighed in +his unrest, and prayed the maiden of his service to depart, so that +he might sleep a little. When the maid was gone, Gugemar considered +within himself whether he might seek the dame, to know whether her +heart was warmed by any ember of the flame that burned in his. He +turned it this way and that, and knew not what to do. This only was +clear, that if the lady refused to search his wound, death, for him, +was sure and speedy. + +"Alas," said he, "what shall I do! Shall I go to my lady, and pray her +pity on the wretch who has none to give him counsel? If she refuse +my prayer, because of her hardness and pride, I shall know there is +nought for me but to die in my sorrow, or, at least, to go heavily all +the days of my life." + +Then he sighed, and in his sighing lighted on a better purpose; for he +said within himself that doubtless he was born to suffer, and that +the best of him was tears. All the long night he spent in vigil and +groanings and watchfulness. To himself he told over her words and her +semblance. He remembered the eyes and the fair mouth of his lady, and +all the grace and the sweetness, which had struck like a knife at his +heart. Between his teeth he cried on her for pity, and for a little +more would have called her to his side. Ah, had he but known the fever +of the lady, and how terrible a lord to her was Love, how great had +been his joy and solace. His visage would have been the more sanguine, +which was now so pale of colour, because of the dolour that was his. +But if the knight was sick by reason of his love, the dame had small +cause to boast herself of health. The lady rose early from her bed, +since she might not sleep. She complained of her unrest, and of Love +who rode her so hardly. The maiden, who was of her company, saw +clearly enough that all her lady's thoughts were set upon the knight, +who, for his healing, sojourned in the chamber. She did not know +whether his thoughts were given again to the dame. When, therefore, +the lady had entered in the chapel, the damsel went straightway to the +knight. He welcomed her gladly, and bade her be seated near the bed. +Then he inquired, "Friend, where now is my lady, and why did she rise +so early from her bed?" + +Having spoken so far, he became silent, and sighed. + +"Sir," replied the maiden softly, "you love, and are discreet, but be +not too discreet therein. In such a love as yours there is nothing to +be ashamed. He who may win my lady's favour has every reason to be +proud of his fortune. Altogether seemly would be your friendship, for +you are young, and she is fair." + +The knight made answer to the maiden, "I am so fast in the snare, that +I pray the fowler to slay me, if she may not free me from the net. +Counsel me, fair sweet friend, if I may hope of kindness at her hand." + +Then the maiden of her sweetness comforted the knight, and assured him +of all the good that she was able. So courteous and debonair was the +maid. + +When the lady had heard Mass, she hastened back to the chamber. She +had not forgotten her friend, and greatly she desired to know whether +he was awake or asleep, of whom her heart was fain. She bade her +maiden to summon him to her chamber, for she had a certain thing in +her heart to show him at leisure, were it for the joy or the sorrow of +their days. + +Gugemar saluted the lady, and the dame returned the knight his +courtesy, but their hearts were too fearful for speech. The knight +dared ask nothing of his lady, for reason that he was a stranger in a +strange land, and was adread to show her his love. But--as says the +proverb--he who will not tell of his sore, may not hope for balm to +his hurt. Love is a privy wound within the heart, and none knoweth of +that bitterness but the heart alone. Love is an evil which may last +for a whole life long, because of man and his constant heart. Many +there be who make of Love a gibe and a jest, and with specious words +defame him by boastful tales. But theirs is not love. Rather it is +folly and lightness, and the tune of a merry song. But let him who +has found a constant lover prize her above rubies, and serve her with +loyal service, being altogether at her will. Gugemar loved in this +fashion, and therefore Love came swiftly to his aid. Love put words in +his mouth, and courage in his heart, so that his hope might be made +plain. + +"Lady," said he, "I die for your love. I am in fever because of my +wound, and if you care not to heal my hurt I would rather die. Fair +friend, I pray you for grace. Do not gainsay me with evil words." + +The lady hearkened with a smile to Gugemar's speech. Right daintily +and sweetly she replied, "Friend, yea is not a word of two letters. I +do not grant such a prayer every day of the week, and must you have +your gift so quickly?" + +"Lady," cried he, "for God's sake pity me, and take it not amiss. She, +who loves lightly, may make her lover pray for long, so that she may +hide how often her feet have trodden the pathway with another friend. +But the honest dame, when she has once given her heart to a friend, +will not deny his wish because of pride. The rather she will find her +pride in humbleness, and love him again with the same love he has +set on her. So they will be glad together, and since none will have +knowledge or hearing of the matter, they will rejoice in their youth. +Fair, sweet lady, be this thy pleasure?" + +When the lady heard these words well she found them honest and true. +Therefore without further prayings and ado she granted Gugemar her +love and her kiss. Henceforward Gugemar lived greatly at his ease, for +he had sight and speech of his friend, and many a time she granted him +her embrace and tenderness, as is the wont of lovers when alone. + +For a year and a half Gugemar dwelt with his lady, in solace and great +delight. Then Fortune turned her wheel, and in a trice cast those +down, whose seat had been so high. Thus it chanced to them, for they +were spied upon and seen. + +On a morning in summer time the Queen and the damoiseau sat fondly +together. The knight embraced her, eyes and face, but the lady stayed +him, saying, "Fair sweet friend, my heart tells me that I shall lose +you soon, for this hidden thing will quickly be made clear. If you are +slain, may the same sword kill me. But if you win forth, well I know +that you will find another love, and that I shall be left alone with +my thoughts. Were I parted from you, may God give me neither joy, nor +rest, nor peace, if I would seek another friend. Of that you need have +no fear. Friend, for surety and comfort of my heart deliver me now +some sark of thine. Therein I will set a knot, and make this covenant +with you, that never will you put your love on dame or maiden, save +only on her who shall first unfasten this knot. Then you will ever +keep faith with me, for so cunning shall be my craft, that no woman +may hope to unravel that coil, either by force or guile, or even with +her knife." + +So the knight rendered the sark to his lady, and made such bargain as +she wished, for the peace and assurance of her mind. + +For his part the knight took a fair girdle, and girt it closely about +the lady's middle. Right secret was the clasp and buckle of this +girdle. Therefore he required of the dame that she would never grant +her love, save to him only, who might free her from the strictness of +this bond, without injury to band or clasp. Then they kissed together, +and entered into such covenant as you have heard. + +That very day their hidden love was made plain to men. A certain +chamberlain was sent by that ancient lord with a message to the Queen. +This unlucky wretch, finding that in no wise could he enter within the +chamber, looked through the window, and saw. Forthwith he hastened +to the King, and told him that which he had seen. When the agèd lord +understood these words, never was there a sadder man than he. He +called together the most trusty sergeants of his guard, and coming +with them to the Queen's chamber, bade them to thrust in the door. +When Gugemar was found therein, the King commanded that he should be +slain with the sword, by reason of the anguish that was his. Gugemar +was in no whit dismayed by the threat. He started to his feet, and +gazing round, marked a stout rod of fir, on which it is the use for +linen to be hung. This he took in hand, and faced his foes, bidding +them have a care, for he would do a mischief to them all. The King +looked earnestly upon the fearless knight, inquiring of him who he +was, and where he was born, and in what manner he came to dwell within +his house. So Gugemar told over to him this story of his fate. He +showed him of the Beast that he had wounded to his hurt; of the nave, +and of his bitter wound; of how he came within the realm, and of the +lady's surgery. He told all to the ancient lord, to the last moment +when he stood within his power. The King replied that he gave no +credence to his word, nor believed that the story ran as he had said. +If, however, the vessel might be found, he would commit the knight +again to the waves. He would go the more heavily for the knight's +saining, and a glad day would it be if he made shipwreck at sea. When +they had entered into this covenant together, they went forth to the +harbour, and there discovered the barge, even as Gugemar had said. So +they set him thereon, and prayed him to return unto his own realm. + +Without sail or oar the ship parted from that coast, with no further +tarrying. The knight wept and wrung his hands, complaining of his +lady's loss, and of her cherishing. He prayed the mighty God to grant +him speedy death, and never to bring him home, save to meet again +with her who was more desirable than life. Whilst he was yet at his +orisons, the ship drew again to that port, from whence she had first +come. Gugemar made haste to get him from the vessel, so that he might +the more swiftly return to his own land. He had gone but a little way +when he was aware of a squire of his household, riding in the company +of a certain knight. This squire held the bridle of a destrier in his +hand, though no man rode thereon. Gugemar called to him by name, so +that the varlet looking upon him, knew again his lord. He got him to +his feet, and bringing the destrier to his master, set the knight +thereon. Great was the joy, and merry was the feast, when Gugemar +returned to his own realm. But though his friends did all that they +were able, neither song nor game could cheer the knight, nor turn him +from dwelling in his unhappy thoughts. For peace of mind they urged +that he took to himself a wife, but Gugemar would have none of their +counsel. Never would he wed a wife, on any day, either for love or for +wealth, save only that she might first unloose the knot within his +shirt. When this news was noised about the country, there was neither +dame nor damsel in the realm of Brittany, but essayed to unfasten the +knot. But there was no lady who could gain to her wish, whether by +force or guile. + +Now will I show of that lady, whom Gugemar so fondly loved. By the +counsel of a certain baron the ancient King set his wife in prison. +She was shut fast in a tower of grey marble, where her days were bad, +and her nights worse. No man could make clear to you the great pain, +the anguish and the dolour, that she suffered in this tower, wherein, +I protest, she died daily. Two years and more she lay bound in prison, +where warders came, but never joy or delight. Often she thought upon +her friend. + +"Gugemar, dear lord, in an evil hour I saw you with my eyes. Better +for me that I die quickly, than endure longer my evil lot. Fair +friend, if I could but win to that coast whence you sailed, very +swiftly would I fling myself in the sea, and end my wretched life." +When she had said these words she rose to her feet, and coming to +the door was amazed to find therein neither bolt nor key. She issued +forth, without challenge from sergeant or warder, and hastening to the +harbour, found there her lover's ship, made fast to that very rock, +from which she would cast her down. When she saw the barge she climbed +thereon, but presently bethought her that on this nave her friend had +gone to perish in the sea. At this thought she would have fled again +to the shore, but her bones were as water, and she fell upon the deck. +So in sore travail and sorrow, the vessel carried her across the +waves, to a port of Brittany, guarded by a castle, strong and very +fair. Now the lord of this castle was named Meriadus. He was a right +warlike prince, and had made him ready to fight with the prince of a +country near by. He had risen very early in the morning, to send forth +a great company of spears, the more easily to ravage this neighbour's +realm. Meriadus looked forth from his window, and marked the ship +which came to port. He hastened down the steps of the perron, and +calling to his chamberlain, came with what speed he might to the nave. +Then mounting the ladder he stood upon the deck. When Meriadus found +within the ship a dame, who for beauty seemed rather a fay than a mere +earthly woman, he seized her by her mantle, and brought her swiftly to +his keep. Right joyous was he because of his good fortune, for lovely +was the lady beyond mortal measure. He made no question as to who had +set her on the barge. He knew only that she was fair, and of high +lineage, and that his heart turned towards her with so hot a love as +never before had he put on dame or damsel. Now there dwelt within the +castle a sister of this lord, who was yet unwed. Meriadus bestowed the +lady in his sister's chamber, because it was the fairest in the tower. +Moreover he commanded that she should be meetly served, and held +in all reverence. But though the dame was so richly clothed and +cherished, ever was she sad and deep in thought. Meriadus came often +to cheer her with mirth and speech, by reason that he wished to gain +her love as a free gift, and not by force. It was in vain that he +prayed her for grace, since she had no balm for his wound. For answer +she showed him the girdle about her body, saying that never would she +give her love to man, save only to him who might unloose the buckle of +that girdle, without harm to belt or clasp. When Meriadus heard these +words, he spoke in haste and said, + +"Lady, there dwells in this country a very worthy knight, who will +take no woman as wife, except she first untie a certain crafty knot in +the hem of a shirt, and that without force or knife. For a little I +would wager that it was you who tied this knot." + +When the lady heard thereof her breath went from her, and near she +came to falling on the ground. Meriadus caught her in his arms, and +cut the laces of her bodice, that she might have the more air. He +strove to unfasten her girdle, but might not dissever the clasp. Yea, +though every knight in the realm essayed to unfasten that cincture, it +would not yield, except to one alone. + +Now Meriadus made the lists ready for a great jousting, and called to +that tournament all the knights who would aid him in his war. Many a +lord came at his bidding, and with them Gugemar, amongst the first. +Meriadus had sent letters to the knight, beseeching him, as friend and +companion, not to fail him in this business. So Gugemar hastened to +the need of his lord, and at his back more than one hundred spears. +All these Meriadus welcomed very gladly, and gave them lodging within +his tower. In honour of his guest, the prince sent two gentlemen to +his sister, praying her to attire herself richly, and come to hall, +together with the dame whom he loved so dearly well. These did as they +were bidden, and arrayed in their sweetest vesture, presently entered +in the hall, holding each other by the hand. Very pale and pensive was +the lady, but when she heard her lover's name her feet failed beneath +her, and had not the maiden held her fast, she would have fallen on +the floor. Gugemar rose from his seat at the sight of the dame, her +fashion and her semblance, and stood staring upon her. He went a +little apart, and said within himself, "Can this be my sweet friend, +my hope, my heart, my life, the fair lady who gave me the grace of her +love? From whence comes she; who might have brought her to this far +land? But I speak in my folly, for well I know that this is not my +dear. A little red, a little white, and all women are thus shapen. +My thoughts are troubled, by reason that the sweetness of this lady +resembles the sweetness of that other, for whom my heart sighs and +trembles. Yet needs must that I have speech of the lady." + +Gugemar drew near to the dame. He kissed her courteously, and found +no word to utter, save to pray that he might be seated at her side. +Meriadus spied upon them closely, and was the more heavy because of +their trouble. Therefore he feigned mirth. + +"Gugemar, dear lord, if it pleases you, let this damsel essay to untie +the knot of your sark, if so be she may loosen the coil." + +Gugemar made answer that very willingly he would do this thing. He +called to him a squire who had the shirt in keeping, and bade him seek +his charge, and deliver it to the dame. The lady took the sark in +hand. Well she knew the knot that she had tied so cunningly, and was +so willing to unloose; but for reason of the trouble at her heart, she +did not dare essay. Meriadus marked the distress of the damsel, and +was more sorrowful than ever was lover before. + +"Lady," said he, "do all that you are able to unfasten this coil." + +So at his commandment she took again to her the hem of the shirt, and +lightly and easily unravelled the tie. + +Gugemar marvelled greatly when he saw this thing. His heart told him +that of a truth this was his lady, but he could not give faith to his +eyes. + +"Friend, are you indeed the sweet comrade I have known? Tell me truly +now, is there about your body the girdle with which I girt you in your +own realm?" + +He set his hands to her waist, and found that the secret belt was yet +about her sides. + + +"Fair sweet friend, tell me now by what adventure I find you here, and +who has brought you to this tower?" + +So the lady told over to her friend the pain and the anguish and the +dolour of the prison in which she was held; of how it chanced that she +fled from her dungeon, and lighting upon a ship, entered therein, and +came to this fair haven; of how Meriadus took her from the barge, but +kept her in all honour, save only that ever he sought for her love; +"but now, fair friend, all is well, for you hold your lady in your +arms." + +Gugemar stood upon his feet, and beckoned with his hand. + +"Lords," he cried, "hearken now to me. I have found my friend, whom +I have lost for a great while. Before you all I pray and require of +Meriadus to yield me my own. For this grace I give him open thanks. +Moreover I will kneel down, and become his liege man. For two years, +or three, if he will, I will bargain to serve in his quarrels, and +with me, of riders, a hundred or more at my back." + +Then answered Meriadus, "Gugemar, fair friend, I am not yet so shaken +or overborne in war, that I must do as you wish, right humbly. This +woman is my captive. I found her: I hold her: and I will defend my +right against you and all your power." + +When Gugemar heard these proud words he got to horse speedily, him and +all his company. He threw down his glove, and parted in anger from +the tower. But he went right heavily, since he must leave behind his +friend. In his train rode all those knights who had drawn together +to that town for the great tournament. Not a knight of them all but +plighted faith to follow where he led, and to hold himself recreant +and shamed if he failed his oath. + + +That same night the band came to the castle of the prince with whom +Meriadus was at war. He welcomed them very gladly, and gave them +lodging in his tower. By their aid he had good hope to bring this +quarrel to an end. Very early in the morning the host came together to +set the battle in array. With clash of mail and noise of horns they +issued from the city gate, Gugemar riding at their head. They drew +before the castle where Meriadus lay in strength, and sought to take +it by storm. But the keep was very strong, and Meriadus bore himself +as a stout and valiant knight. So Gugemar, like a wary captain, sat +himself down before the town, till all the folk of that place were +deemed by friend and sergeant to be weak with hunger. Then they took +that high keep with the sword, and burnt it with fire. The lord +thereof they slew in his own hall; but Gugemar came forth, after such +labours as you have heard, bearing his lady with him, to return in +peace to his own land. + +From this adventure that I have told you, has come the Lay that +minstrels chant to harp and viol--fair is that song and sweet the +tune. + + + + +III + + +THE LAY OF THE DOLOROUS KNIGHT + +Hearken now to the Lay that once I heard a minstrel chanting to his +harp. In surety of its truth I will name the city where this story +passed. The Lay of the Dolorous Knight, my harper called his song, +but of those who hearkened, some named it rather, The Lay of the Four +Sorrows. + +In Nantes, of Brittany, there dwelt a dame who was dearly held of +all, for reason of the much good that was found in her. This lady was +passing fair of body, apt in book as any clerk, and meetly schooled in +every grace that it becometh dame to have. So gracious of person was +this damsel, that throughout the realm there was no knight could +refrain from setting his heart upon her, though he saw her but one +only time. Although the demoiselle might not return the love of so +many, certainly she had no wish to slay them all. Better by far that +a man pray and require in love all the dames of his country, than run +mad in woods for the bright eyes of one. Therefore this dame gave +courtesy and good will to each alike. Even when she might not hear a +lover's words, so sweetly she denied his wish that the more he held +her dear and was the more her servant for that fond denial. So because +of her great riches of body and of heart, this lady of whom I tell, +was prayed and required in love by the lords of her country, both by +night and by day. + +Now in Brittany lived four young barons, but their names I cannot +tell. It is enough that they were desirable in the eyes of maidens for +reason of their beauty, and that men esteemed them because they were +courteous of manner and open of hand. Moreover they were stout and +hardy knights amongst the spears, and rich and worthy gentlemen of +those very parts. Each of these four knights had set his heart upon +the lady, and for love of her pained himself mightily, and did all +that he was able, so that by any means he might gain her favour. Each +prayed her privily for her love, and strove all that he could to make +him worthy of the gift, above his fellows. For her part the lady was +sore perplexed, and considered in her mind very earnestly, which of +these four knights she should take as friend. But since they all were +loyal and worthy gentlemen, she durst not choose amongst them; for +she would not slay three lovers with her hand so that one might have +content. Therefore to each and all, the dame made herself fair and +sweet of semblance. Gifts she gave to all alike. Tender messages she +sent to each. Every knight deemed himself esteemed and favoured above +his fellows, and by soft words and fair service diligently strove to +please. When the knights gathered together for the games, each of +these lords contended earnestly for the prize, so that he might be +first, and draw on him the favour of his dame. Each held her for his +friend. Each bore upon him her gift--pennon, or sleeve, or ring. Each +cried her name within the lists. + +Now when Eastertide was come, a great tournament was proclaimed to be +held beyond the walls of Nantes, that rich city. The four lovers were +the appellants in this tourney, and from every realm knights rode +to break a lance in honour of their dame. Frenchman and Norman and +Fleming; the hardiest knights of Brabant, Boulogne and Anjou; each +came to do his devoir in the field. Nor was the chivalry of Nantes +backward in this quarrel, but till the vespers of the tournament was +come, they stayed themselves within the lists, and struck stoutly for +their lord. After the four lovers had laced their harness upon them, +they issued forth from the city, followed by the knights who were of +their company in this adventure. But upon the four fell the burden of +the day, for they were known of all by the embroidered arms upon their +surcoat, and the device fashioned on the shield. Now against the four +lovers arrayed themselves four other knights, armed altogether in +coats of mail, and helmets and gauntlets of steel. Of these stranger +knights two were of Hainault, and the two others were Flemings. When +the four lovers saw their adversaries prepare themselves for the +combat, they had little desire to flee, but hastened to join them in +battle. Each lowered his spear, and choosing his enemy, met him so +eagerly that all men wondered, for horse and man fell to the earth. +The four lovers recked little of their destriers, but freeing their +feet from the stirrups bent over the fallen foe, and called on him to +yield. When the friends of the vanquished knights saw their case, +they hastened to their succour; so for their rescue there was a great +press, and many a mighty stroke with the sword. + +The damsel stood upon a tower to watch these feats of arms. By their +blazoned coats and shields she knew her knights; she saw their +marvellous deeds, yet might not say who did best, nor give to one the +praise. But the tournament was no longer a seemly and ordered battle. +The ranks of the two companies were confused together, so that every +man fought against his fellow, and none might tell whether he struck +his comrade or his foe. The four lovers did well and worshipfully, so +that all men deemed them worthy of the prize. But when evening was +come, and the sport drew to its close, their courage led them to +folly. Having ventured too far from their companions, they were set +upon by their adversaries, and assailed so fiercely that three were +slain outright. As to the fourth he yet lived, but altogether mauled +and shaken, for his thigh was broken, and a spear head remained in his +side. The four bodies were fallen on the field, and lay with those who +had perished in that day. But because of the great mischief these +four lovers had done their adversaries, their shields were cast +despitefully without the lists; but in this their foemen did +wrongfully, and all men held them in sore displeasure. + +Great were the lamentation and the cry when the news of this mischance +was noised about the city. Such a tumult of mourning was never before +heard, for the whole city was moved. All men hastened forth to the +place where the lists were set. Meetly to mourn the dead there rode +nigh upon two thousand knights, with hauberks unlaced, and uncovered +heads, plucking upon their beards. So the four lovers were placed each +upon his shield, and being brought back in honour to Nantes, were +carried to the house of that dame, whom so greatly they had loved. +When the lady knew this distressful adventure, straightway she fell +to the ground. Being returned from her swoon, she made her complaint, +calling upon her lovers each by his name. + +"Alas," said she, "what shall I do, for never shall I know happiness +again. These four knights had set their hearts upon me, and despite +their great treasure, esteemed my love as richer than all their +wealth. Alas, for the fair and valiant knight! Alas, for the loyal and +generous man! By gifts such as these they sought to gain my favour, +but how might lady bereave three of life, so as to cherish one. Even +now I cannot tell for whom I have most pity, or who was closest to my +mind. But three are dead, and one is sore stricken; neither is there +anything in the world which can bring me comfort. Only this is there +to do--to give the slain men seemly burial, and, if it may be, to heal +their comrade of his wounds." + +So, because of her great love and nobleness, the lady caused these +three distressful knights to be buried well and worshipfully in a +rich abbey. In that place she offered their Mass penny, and gave rich +offerings of silver and of lights besides. May God have mercy on them +in that day. As for the wounded knight she commanded him to be carried +to her own chamber. She sent for surgeons, and gave him into their +hands. These searched his wounds so skilfully, and tended him with so +great care, that presently his hurt commenced to heal. Very often was +the lady in the chamber, and very tenderly she cherished the stricken +man. Yet ever she felt pity for the three Knights of the Sorrows, and +ever she went heavily by reason of their deaths. + +Now on a summer's day, the lady and the knight sat together after +meat. She called to mind the sorrow that was hers; so that, in a +space, her head fell upon her breast, and she gave herself altogether +to her grief. The knight looked earnestly upon his dame. Well he might +see that she was far away, and clearly he perceived the cause. + +"Lady," said he, "you are in sorrow. Open now your grief to me. If you +tell me what is in your heart perchance I may find you comfort." + +"Fair friend," replied she, "I think of what is gone, and remember +your companions, who are dead. Never was lady of my peerage, however +fair and good and gracious, ever loved by four such valiant gentlemen, +nor ever lost them in one single day. Save you--who were so maimed and +in such peril--all are gone. Therefore I call to mind those who loved +me so dearly, and am the saddest lady beneath the sun. To remember +these things, of you four I shall make a Lay, and will call it the Lay +of the Four Sorrows." + +When the knight heard these words he made answer very swiftly, "Lady, +name it not the Lay of the Four Sorrows, but, rather, the Lay of the +Dolorous Knight. Would you hear the reason why it should bear this +name? My three comrades have finished their course; they have nothing +more to hope of their life. They are gone, and with them the pang of +their great sorrow, and the knowledge of their enduring love for you. +I alone have come, all amazed and fearful, from the net wherein they +were taken, but I find my life more bitter than my comrades found the +grave. I see you on your goings and comings about the house. I may +speak with you both matins and vespers. But no other joy do I get-- +neither clasp nor kiss, nothing but a few empty, courteous words. +Since all these evils are come upon me because of you, I choose death +rather than life. For this reason your Lay should bear my name, and be +called the Lay of the Dolorous Knight. He who would name it the Lay +of the Four Sorrows would name it wrongly, and not according to the +truth." + +"By my faith," replied the lady, "this is a fair saying. So shall the +song be known as the Lay of the Dolorous Knight." + +Thus was the Lay conceived, made perfect, and brought to a fair birth. +For this reason it came by its name; though to this day some call it +the Lay of the Four Sorrows. Either name befits it well, for the story +tells of both these matters, but it is the use and wont in this land +to call it the Lay of the Dolorous Knight. Here it ends; no more is +there to say. I heard no more, and nothing more I know. Perforce I +bring my story to a close. + + + + +IV + + +THE LAY OF ELIDUC + +Now will I rehearse before you a very ancient Breton Lay. As the tale +was told to me, so, in turn, will I tell it over again, to the best of +my art and knowledge. Hearken now to my story, its why and its reason. + +In Brittany there lived a knight, so courteous and so brave, that in +all the realm there was no worthier lord than he. This knight was +named Eliduc. He had wedded in his youth a noble lady of proud race +and name. They had long dwelt together in peace and content, for their +hearts were fixed on one another in faith and loyalty. Now it chanced +that Eliduc sought his fortune in a far land, where there was a great +war. There he loved a Princess, the daughter of the King and Queen of +those parts. Guillardun was the maiden's name, and in all the realm +was none more fair. The wife of Eliduc had to name, Guildeluec, in her +own country. By reason of these two ladies their story is known as the +Lay of Guildeluec and Guillardun, but at first it was rightly called +the Lay of Eliduc. The name is a little matter; but if you hearken to +me you shall learn the story of these three lovers, in its pity and +its truth. + +Eliduc had as lord and suzerain, the King of Brittany over Sea. The +knight was greatly loved and cherished of his prince, by reason of his +long and loyal service. When the King's business took him from his +realm, Eliduc was his master's Justice and Seneschal. He governed the +country well and wisely, and held it from the foe with a strong hand. +Nevertheless, in spite of all, much evil was appointed unto him. +Eliduc was a mighty hunter, and by the King's grace, he would chase +the stag within the woods. He was cunning and fair as Tristan, and +so wise in venery, that the oldest forester might not gainsay him in +aught concerning the shaw. But by reason of malice and envy, certain +men accused him to the King that he had meddled with the royal +pleasaunce. The King bade Eliduc to avoid his Court. He gave no reason +for his commandment, and the knight might learn nothing of the cause. +Often he prayed the King that he might know whereof he was accused. +Often he begged his lord not to heed the specious and crafty words of +his foes. He called to mind the wounds he had gained in his master's +wars, but was answered never a word. When Eliduc found that he might +get no speech with his lord, it became his honour to depart. He +returned to his house, and calling his friends around him, opened +out to them this business of the King's wrath, in recompense for his +faithful service. + +"I did not reckon on a King's gratitude; but as the proverb says, it +is useless for a farmer to dispute with the horse in his plough. The +wise and virtuous man keeps faith to his lord, and bears goodwill to +his neighbour, not for what he may receive in return." + +Then the knight told his friends that since he might no longer stay in +his own country, he should cross the sea to the realm of Logres, and +sojourn there awhile, for his solace. His fief he placed in the hands +of his wife, and he required of his men, and of all who held him dear, +that they would serve her loyally. Having given good counsel to the +utmost of his power, the knight prepared him for the road. Right heavy +were his friends and kin, that he must go forth from amongst them. + +Eliduc took with him ten knights of his household, and set out on his +journey. His dame came with him so far as she was able, wringing her +hands, and making much sorrow, at the departure of her husband. At the +end he pledged good faith to her, as she to him, and so she returned +to her own home. Eliduc went his way, till he came to a haven on the +sea. He took ship, and sailed to the realm of Totenois, for many kings +dwell in that country, and ever there were strife and war. Now, near +to Exeter, in this land, there dwelt a King, right rich and strong, +but old and very full of years. He had no son of his body, but one +maid only, young, and of an age to wed. Since he would not bestow this +damsel on a certain prince of his neighbours, this lord made mortal +war upon his fellow, spoiling and wasting all his land. The ancient +King, for surety, had set his daughter within a castle, fair and very +strong. He had charged the sergeants not to issue forth from the +gates, and for the rest there was none so bold as to seek to storm the +keep, or even to joust about the barriers. When Eliduc was told of +this quarrel, he needed to go no farther, and sojourned for awhile +in the land. He turned over in his mind which of these princes dealt +unjustly with his neighbour. Since he deemed that the agèd king was +the more vexed and sorely pressed in the matter, he resolved to aid +him to the best of his might, and to take arms in his service. Eliduc, +therefore, wrote letters to the King, telling him that he had quitted +his own country, and sought refuge in the King's realm. For his part +he was willing to fight as a mercenary in the King's quarrel, and if a +safe conduct were given him, he and the knights of his company would +ride, forthwith, to their master's aid. This letter, Eliduc sent by +the hands of his squires to the King. When the ancient lord had read +the letter, he rejoiced greatly, and made much of the messengers. He +summoned his constable, and commanded him swiftly to write out the +safe conduct, that would bring the baron to his side. For the rest he +bade that the messengers meetly should be lodged and apparelled, and +that such money should be given them as would be sufficient to their +needs. Then he sealed the safe conduct with his royal seal, and sent +it to Eliduc, straightway, by a sure hand. + +When Eliduc came in answer to the summons, he was received with great +honour by the King. His lodging was appointed in the house of a grave +and courteous burgess of the city, who bestowed the fairest chamber on +his guest. Eliduc fared softly, both at bed and board. He called to +his table such good knights as were in misease, by reason of prison or +of war. He charged his men that none should be so bold as to take pelf +or penny from the citizens of the town, during the first forty days of +their sojourn. But on the third day, it was bruited about the streets, +that the enemy were near at hand. The country folk deemed that they +approached to invest the city, and to take the gates by storm. When +the noise and clamour of the fearful burgesses came to the ears of +Eliduc, he and his company donned their harness, and got to horse, +as quickly as they might. Forty horsemen mounted with him; as to the +rest, many lay sick or hurt within the city, and others were captives +in the hands of the foe. These forty stout sergeants waited for no +sounding of trumpets; they hastened to seek their captain at his +lodging, and rode at his back through the city gate. + +"Sir," said they, "where you go, there we will follow, and what you +bid us, that shall we do." + +"Friends," made answer the knight, "I thank you for your fellowship. +There is no man amongst us but who wishes to molest the foe, and do +them all the mischief that he is able. If we await them in the town, +we defend ourselves with the shield, and not with the sword. To my +mind it is better to fall in the field than to hide behind walls; but +if any of you have a wiser counsel to offer, now let him speak." + +"Sir," replied a soldier of the company, "through the wood, in good +faith, there runs a path, right strict and narrow. It is the wont of +the enemy to approach our city by this track. After their deeds of +arms before the walls, it is their custom to return by the way they +came, helmet on saddle bow, and hauberk unbraced. If we might catch +them, unready in the path, we could trouble them very grievously, even +though it be at the peril of our lives." + +"Friends," answered Eliduc, "you are all the King's men, and are bound +to serve him faithfully, even to the death. Come, now, with me where +I will go, and do that thing which you shall see me do. I give you my +word as a loyal gentleman, that no harm shall hap to any. If we gain +spoil and riches from the foe, each shall have his lot in the ransom. +At the least we may do them much hurt and mischief in this quarrel." + +Eliduc set his men in ambush, near by that path, within the wood. He +told over to them, like a cunning captain, the crafty plan he had +devised, and taught them how to play their parts, and to call upon +his name. When the foe had entered on that perilous path, and were +altogether taken in the snare, Eliduc cried his name, and summoned his +companions to bear themselves like men. This they did stoutly, and +assailed their enemy so fiercely that he was dismayed beyond measure, +and his line being broken, fled to the forest. In this fight was the +constable taken, together with fifty and five other lords, who owned +themselves prisoners, and were given to the keeping of the squires. +Great was the spoil in horse and harness, and marvellous was the +wealth they gained in gold and ransom. So having done such great deeds +in so short a space, they returned to the city, joyous and content. + +The King looked forth from a tower. He feared grievously for his men, +and made his complaint of Eliduc, who--he deemed--had betrayed him in +his need. Upon the road he saw a great company, charged and laden with +spoil. Since the number of those who returned was more than those who +went forth, the king knew not again his own. He came down from the +tower, in doubt and sore trouble, bidding that the gates should be +made fast, and that men should mount upon the walls. For such coil as +this, there was slender warrant. A squire who was sent out, came back +with all speed, and showed him of this adventure. He told over the +story of the ambush, and the tale of the prisoners. He rehearsed how +the constable was taken, and that many a knight was wounded, and many +a brave man slain. When the King might give credence thereto, he had +more joy than ever king before. He got him from his tower, and going +before Eliduc, he praised him to his face, and rendered him the +captives as a gift. Eliduc gave the King's bounty to his men. He +bestowed on them besides, all the harness and the spoil; keeping, for +his part, but three knights, who had won much honour in the battle. +From this day the King loved and cherished Eliduc very dearly. He held +the knight, and his company, for a full year in his service, and at +the end of the year, such faith had he in the knight's loyalty, that +he appointed him Seneschal and Constable of his realm. + +Eliduc was not only a brave and wary captain; he was also a courteous +gentleman, right goodly to behold. + +That fair maiden, the daughter of the King, heard tell of his deeds, +and desired to see his face, because of the good men spake of him. She +sent her privy chamberlain to the knight, praying him to come to her +house, that she might solace herself with the story of his deeds, for +greatly she wondered that he had no care for her friendship. Eliduc +gave answer to the chamberlain that he would ride forthwith, since +much he desired to meet so high a dame. He bade his squire to saddle +his destrier, and rode to the palace, to have speech with the lady. +Eliduc stood without the lady's chamber, and prayed the chamberlain to +tell the dame that he had come, according to her wish. The chamberlain +came forth with a smiling face, and straightway led him in the +chamber. When the princess saw the knight, she cherished him very +sweetly, and welcomed him in the most honourable fashion. The knight +gazed upon the lady, who was passing fair to see. He thanked her +courteously, that she was pleased to permit him to have speech with so +high a princess. Guillardun took Eliduc by the hand, and seated him +upon the bed, near her side. They spake together of many things, for +each found much to say. The maiden looked closely upon the knight, his +face and semblance; to her heart she said that never before had she +beheld so comely a man. Her eyes might find no blemish in his person, +and Love knocked upon her heart, requiring her to love, since her time +had come. She sighed, and her face lost its fair colour; but she cared +only to hide her trouble from the knight, lest he should think her the +less maidenly therefore. When they had talked together for a great +space, Eliduc took his leave, and went his way. The lady would have +kept him longer gladly, but since she did not dare, she allowed him +to depart. Eliduc returned to his lodging, very pensive and deep in +thought. He called to mind that fair maiden, the daughter of his +King, who so sweetly had bidden him to her side, and had kissed him +farewell, with sighs that were sweeter still. He repented him right +earnestly that he had lived so long a while in the land without +seeking her face, but promised that often he would enter her palace +now. Then he remembered the wife whom he had left in his own house. He +recalled the parting between them, and the covenant he made, that good +faith and stainless honour should be ever betwixt the twain. But the +maiden, from whom he came, was willing to take him as her knight! If +such was her will, might any pluck him from her hand? + +All night long, that fair maiden, the daughter of the King, had +neither rest nor sleep. She rose up, very early in the morning, and +commanding her chamberlain, opened out to him all that was in her +heart. She leaned her brow against the casement. + +"By my faith," she said, "I am fallen into a deep ditch, and sorrow +has come upon me. I love Eliduc, the good knight, whom my father made +his Seneschal. I love him so dearly that I turn the whole night upon +my bed, and cannot close my eyes, nor sleep. If he assured me of his +heart, and loved me again, all my pleasure should be found in his +happiness. Great might be his profit, for he would become King of this +realm, and little enough is it for his deserts, so courteous is he and +wise. If he have nothing better than friendship to give me, I choose +death before life, so deep is my distress." + +When the princess had spoken what it pleased her to say, the +chamberlain, whom she had bidden, gave her loyal counsel. + +"Lady," said he, "since you have set your love upon this knight, send +him now--if so it please you--some goodly gift-girdle or scarf or +ring. If he receive the gift with delight, rejoicing in your favour, +you may be assured that he loves you. There is no Emperor, under +Heaven, if he were tendered your tenderness, but would go the more +lightly for your grace." + +The damsel hearkened to the counsel of her chamberlain, and made +reply, "If only I knew that he desired my love! Did ever maiden woo +her knight before, by asking whether he loved or hated her? What if he +make of me a mock and a jest in the ears of his friends! Ah, if the +secrets of the heart were but written on the face! But get you ready, +for go you must, at once." + +"Lady," answered the chamberlain, "I am ready to do your bidding." + +"You must greet the knight a hundred times in my name, and will place +my girdle in his hand, and this my golden ring." + +When the chamberlain had gone upon his errand, the maiden was so +sick at heart, that for a little she would have bidden him return. +Nevertheless, she let him go his way, and eased her shame with words. + +"Alas, what has come upon me, that I should put my heart upon a +stranger. I know nothing of his folk, whether they be mean or high; +nor do I know whether he will part as swiftly as he came. I have done +foolishly, and am worthy of blame, since I have bestowed my love very +lightly. I spoke to him yesterday for the first time, and now I pray +him for his love. Doubtless he will make me a song! Yet if he be the +courteous gentleman I believe him, he will understand, and not deal +hardly with me. At least the dice are cast, and if he may not love me, +I shall know myself the most woeful of ladies, and never taste of joy +all the days of my life." + + +Whilst the maiden lamented in this fashion, the chamberlain hastened +to the lodging of Eliduc. He came before the knight, and having +saluted him in his lady's name, he gave to his hand the ring and the +girdle. The knight thanked him earnestly for the gifts. He placed the +ring upon his finger, and the girdle he girt about his body. He said +no more to the chamberlain, nor asked him any questions; save only +that he proffered him a gift. This the messenger might not have, and +returned the way he came. The chamberlain entered in the palace and +found the princess within her chamber. He greeted her on the part of +the knight, and thanked her for her bounty. + +"Diva, diva," cried the lady hastily, "hide nothing from me; does he +love me, or does he not?" + +"Lady," answered the chamberlain, "as I deem, he loves you, and truly. +Eliduc is no cozener with words. I hold him for a discreet and prudent +gentleman, who knows well how to hide what is in his heart. I gave him +greeting in your name, and granted him your gifts. He set the ring +upon his finger, and as to your girdle, he girt it upon him, and +belted it tightly about his middle. I said no more to him, nor he to +me; but if he received not your gifts in tenderness, I am the more +deceived. Lady, I have told you his words: I cannot tell you his +thoughts. Only, mark carefully what I am about to say. If Eliduc had +not a richer gift to offer, he would not have taken your presents at +my hand." + +"It pleases you to jest," said the lady. "I know well that Eliduc does +not altogether hate me. Since my only fault is to cherish him too +fondly, should he hate me, he would indeed be blameworthy. Never again +by you, or by any other, will I require him of aught, or look to him +for comfort. He shall see that a maiden's love is no slight thing, +lightly given, and lightly taken again--but, perchance, he will not +dwell in the realm so long as to know of the matter." + +"Lady, the knight has covenanted to serve the King, in all loyalty, +for the space of a year. You have full leisure to tell, whatever you +desire him to learn." + +When the maiden heard that Eliduc remained in the country, she +rejoiced very greatly. She was glad that the knight would sojourn +awhile in her city, for she knew naught of the torment he endured, +since first he looked upon her. He had neither peace nor delight, for +he could not get her from his mind. He reproached himself bitterly. +He called to remembrance the covenant he made with his wife, when he +departed from his own land, that he would never be false to his oath. +But his heart was a captive now, in a very strong prison. He desired +greatly to be loyal and honest, but he could not deny his love for the +maiden--Guillardun, so frank and so fair. + +Eliduc strove to act as his honour required. He had speech and sight +of the lady, and did not refuse her kiss and embrace. He never spoke +of love, and was diligent to offend in nothing. He was careful in +this, because he would keep faith with his wife, and would attempt no +matter against his King. Very grievously he pained himself, but at the +end he might do no more. Eliduc caused his horse to be saddled, and +calling his companions about him, rode to the castle to get audience +of the King. He considered, too, that he might see his lady, and learn +what was in her heart. It was the hour of meat, and the King having +risen from table, had entered in his daughter's chamber. The King was +at chess, with a lord who had but come from over-sea. The lady sat +near the board, to watch the movements of the game. When Eliduc came +before the prince, he welcomed him gladly, bidding him to seat himself +close at hand. Afterwards he turned to his daughter, and said, +"Princess, it becomes you to have a closer friendship with this lord, +and to treat him well and worshipfully. Amongst five hundred, there is +no better knight than he." + +When the maiden had listened demurely to her father's commandment, +there was no gayer lady than she. She rose lightly to her feet, and +taking the knight a little from the others, seated him at her side. +They remained silent, because of the greatness of their love. She did +not dare to speak the first, and to him the maid was more dreadful +than a knight in mail. At the end Eliduc thanked her courteously for +the gifts she had sent him; never was grace so precious and so kind. +The maiden made answer to the knight, that very dear to her was the +use he had found for her ring, and the girdle with which he had belted +his body. She loved him so fondly that she wished him for her husband. +If she might not have her wish, one thing she knew well, that she +would take no living man, but would die unwed. She trusted he would +not deny her hope. + +"Lady," answered the knight, "I have great joy in your love, and thank +you humbly for the goodwill you bear me. I ought indeed to be a +happy man, since you deign to show me at what price you value our +friendship. Have you remembered that I may not remain always in your +realm? I covenanted with the King to serve him as his man for the +space of one year. Perchance I may stay longer in his service, for I +would not leave him till his quarrel be ended. Then I shall return to +my own land; so, fair lady, you permit me to say farewell." + +The maiden made answer to her knight, "Fair friend, right sweetly I +thank you for your courteous speech. So apt a clerk will know, without +more words, that he may have of me just what he would. It becomes my +love to give faith to all you say." + +The two lovers spoke together no further; each was well assured of +what was in the other's heart. Eliduc rode back to his lodging, right +joyous and content. Often he had speech with his friend, and passing +great was the love which grew between the twain. + +Eliduc pressed on the war so fiercely that in the end he took captive +the King who troubled his lord, and had delivered the land from its +foes. He was greatly praised of all as a crafty captain in the field, +and a hardy comrade with the spear. The poor and the minstrel counted +him a generous knight. About this time that King, who had bidden +Eliduc avoid his realm, sought diligently to find him. He had sent +three messengers beyond the seas to seek his ancient Seneschal. A +strong enemy had wrought him much grief and loss. All his castles were +taken from him, and all his country was a spoil to the foe. Often and +sorely he repented him of the evil counsel to which he had given ear. +He mourned the absence of his mightiest knight, and drove from his +councils those false lords who, for malice and envy, had defamed him. +These he outlawed for ever from his realm. The King wrote letters to +Eliduc, conjuring him by the loving friendship that was once between +them, and summoning him as a vassal is required of his lord, to hasten +to his aid, in that his bitter need. When Eliduc heard these tidings +they pressed heavily upon him, by reason of the grievous love he bore +the dame. She, too, loved him with a woman's whole heart. Between the +two there was nothing but the purest love and tenderness. Never by +word or deed had they spoiled their friendship. To speak a little +closely together; to give some fond and foolish gift; this was the sum +of their love. In her wish and hope the maiden trusted to hold the +knight in her land, and to have him as her lord. Naught she deemed +that he was wedded to a wife beyond the sea. + +"Alas," said Eliduc, "I have loitered too long in this country, and +have gone astray. Here I have set my heart on a maiden, Guillardun, +the daughter of the King, and she, on me. If, now, we part, there is +no help that one, or both, of us, must die. Yet go I must. My lord +requires me by letters, and by the oath of fealty that I have sworn. +My own honour demands that I should return to my wife. I dare not +stay; needs must I go. I cannot wed my lady, for not a priest in +Christendom would make us man and wife. All things turn to blame. God, +what a tearing asunder will our parting be! Yet there is one who will +ever think me in the right, though I be held in scorn of all. I will +be guided by her wishes, and what she counsels that will I do. The +King, her sire, is troubled no longer by any war. First, I will go to +him, praying that I may return to my own land, for a little, because +of the need of my rightful lord. Then I will seek out the maiden, and +show her the whole business. She will tell me her desire, and I shall +act according to her wish." + +The knight hesitated no longer as to the path he should follow. He +went straight to the King, and craved leave to depart. He told him +the story of his lord's distress, and read, and placed in the King's +hands, the letters calling him back to his home. When the King had +read the writing, and knew that Eliduc purposed to depart, he was +passing sad and heavy. He offered the knight the third part of his +kingdom, with all the treasure that he pleased to ask, if he would +remain at his side. He offered these things to the knight--these, and +the gratitude of all his days besides. + +"Do not tempt me, sire," replied the knight. "My lord is in such +deadly peril, and his letters have come so great a way to require me, +that go I must to aid him in his need. When I have ended my task, I +will return very gladly, if you care for my services, and with me a +goodly company of knights to fight in your quarrels." + +The King thanked Eliduc for his words, and granted him graciously the +leave that he demanded. He gave him, moreover, all the goods of his +house; gold and silver, hound and horses, silken cloths, both rich and +fair, these he might have at his will. Eliduc took of them discreetly, +according to his need. Then, very softly, he asked one other gift. +If it pleased the King, right willingly would he say farewell to the +princess, before he went. The King replied that it was his pleasure, +too. He sent a page to open the door of the maiden's chamber, and to +tell her the knight's request. When she saw him, she took him by +the hand, and saluted him very sweetly. Eliduc was the more fain of +counsel than of claspings. He seated himself by the maiden's side, and +as shortly as he might, commenced to show her of the business. He had +done no more than read her of his letters, than her face lost its fair +colour, and near she came to swoon. When Eliduc saw her about to fall, +he knew not what he did, for grief. He kissed her mouth, once and +again, and wept above her, very tenderly. He took, and held her fast +in his arms, till she had returned from her swoon. + +"Fair dear friend," said he softly, "bear with me while I tell you +that you are my life and my death, and in you is all my comfort. I +have bidden farewell to your father, and purposed to go back to my own +land, for reason of this bitter business of my lord. But my will is +only in your pleasure, and whatever the future brings me, your counsel +I will do." + +"Since you cannot stay," said the maiden, "take me with you, wherever +you go. If not, my life is so joyless without you, that I would wish +to end it with my knife." + +Very sweetly made answer Sir Eliduc, for in honesty he loved honest +maid, "Fair friend, I have sworn faith to your father, and am his man. +If I carried you with me, I should give the lie to my troth. Let this +covenant be made between us. Should you give me leave to return to my +own land I swear to you on my honour as a knight, that I will come +again on any day that you shall name. My life is in your hands. +Nothing on earth shall keep me from your side, so only that I have +life and health." + +Then she, who loved so fondly, granted her knight permission to +depart, and fixed the term, and named the day for his return. Great +was their sorrow that the hour had come to bid farewell. They gave +rings of gold for remembrance, and sweetly kissed adieu. So they +severed from each other's arms. + +Eliduc sought the sea, and with a fair wind, crossed swiftly to the +other side. His lord was greatly content to learn the tidings of his +knight's return. His friends and his kinsfolk came to greet him, and +the common folk welcomed him very gladly. But, amongst them all, none +was so blithe at his home-coming as the fair and prudent lady who was +his wife. Despite this show of friendship, Eliduc was ever sad, and +deep in thought. He went heavily, till he might look upon his friend. +He felt no happiness, nor made pretence of any, till he should meet +with her again. His wife was sick at heart, because of the coldness of +her husband. She took counsel with her soul, as to what she had done +amiss. Often she asked him privily, if she had come short or offended +in any measure, whilst he was without the realm. If she was accused by +any, let him tell her the accusation, that she might purge herself of +the offence. + +"Wife," answered Eliduc, "neither I, nor any other, charge you with +aught that is against your honour to do. The cause of my sorrow is +in myself. I have pledged my faith to the King of that country, from +whence I come, that I will return to help him in his need. When my +lord the King has peace in his realm, within eight days I shall be +once more upon the sea. Great travail I must endure, and many pains I +shall suffer, in readiness for that hour. Return I must, and till then +I have no mind for anything but toil; for I will not give the lie to +my plighted word." + +Eliduc put his fief once more in the hands of his dame. He sought +his lord, and aided him to the best of his might. By the counsel and +prowess of the knight, the King came again into his own. When the term +appointed by his lady, and the day she named for his return drew near, +Eliduc wrought in such fashion that peace was accorded between the +foes. Then the knight made him ready for his journey, and took thought +to the folk he should carry with him. His choice fell on two of his +nephews, whom he loved very dearly, and on a certain chamberlain of +his household. These were trusted servitors, who were of his inmost +mind, and knew much of his counsel. Together with these went his +squires, these only, for Eliduc had no care to take many. All these, +nephew and squire and chamberlain, Eliduc made to promise, and confirm +by an oath, that they would reveal nothing of his business. + +The company put to sea without further tarrying, and, crossing +quickly, came to that land where Eliduc so greatly desired to be. The +knight sought a hostel some distance from the haven, for he would +not be seen of any, nor have it bruited that Eliduc was returned. He +called his chamberlain, and sent him to his friend, bearing letters +that her knight had come, according to the covenant that had been +made. At nightfall, before the gates were made fast, Eliduc issued +forth from the city, and followed after his messenger. He had clothed +himself in mean apparel, and rode at a footpace straight to the city, +where dwelt the daughter of the King. The chamberlain arrived before +the palace, and by dint of asking and prying, found himself within the +lady's chamber. He saluted the maiden, and told her that her lover +was near. When Guillardun heard these tidings she was astonied beyond +measure, and for joy and pity wept right tenderly. She kissed the +letters of her friend, and the messenger who brought such welcome +tidings. The chamberlain prayed the lady to attire and make her ready +to join her friend. The day was spent in preparing for the adventure, +according to such plan as had been devised. When dark was come, +and all was still, the damsel stole forth from the palace, and the +chamberlain with her. For fear that any man should know her again, +the maiden had hidden, beneath a riding cloak, her silken gown, +embroidered with gold. About the space of a bow shot from the city +gate, there was a coppice standing within a fair meadow. Near by this +wood, Eliduc and his comrades awaited the coming of Guillardun. When +Eliduc saw the lady, wrapped in her mantle, and his chamberlain +leading her by the hand, he got from his horse, and kissed her right +tenderly. Great joy had his companions at so fair a sight. He set +her on the horse, and climbing before her, took bridle in glove, +and returned to the haven, with all the speed he might. He entered +forthwith in the ship, which put to sea, having on board none, save +Eliduc, his men, and his lady, Guillardun. With a fair wind, and a +quiet hour, the sailors thought that they would swiftly come to shore. +But when their journey was near its end, a sudden tempest arose on the +sea. A mighty wind drove them far from their harbourage, so that their +rudder was broken, and their sail torn from the mast. Devoutly they +cried on St. Nicholas, St. Clement, and Madame St. Mary, to aid them +in this peril. They implored the Mother that she would approach her +Son, not to permit them to perish, but to bring them to the harbour +where they would come. Without sail or oar, the ship drifted here and +there, at the mercy of the storm. They were very close to death, when +one of the company, with a loud voice began to cry, "What need is +there of prayers! Sir, you have with you, her, who brings us to our +death. We shall never win to land, because you, who already have a +faithful wife, seek to wed this foreign woman, against God and His +law, against honour and your plighted troth. Grant us to cast her in +the sea, and straightway the winds and the waves will be still." + +When Eliduc heard these words he was like to come to harm for rage. + +"Bad servant and felon traitor," he cried, "you should pay dearly for +your speech, if I might leave my lady." + +Eliduc held his friend fast in his arms, and cherished her as well as +he was able. When the lady heard that her knight was already wedded +in his own realm, she swooned where she lay. Her face became pale and +discoloured; she neither breathed nor sighed, nor could any bring +her any comfort. Those who carried her to a sheltered place, were +persuaded that she was but dead, because of the fury of the storm. +Eliduc was passing heavy. He rose to his feet, and hastening to his +squire, smote him so grievously with an oar, that he fell senseless on +the deck. He haled him by his legs to the side of the ship and flung +the body in the sea, where it was swiftly swallowed by the waves. He +went to the broken rudder, and governed the nave so skilfully, that it +presently drew to land. So, having come to their fair haven, they cast +anchor, and made fast their bridge to the shore. Dame Guillardun lay +yet in her swoon, and seemed no other than if she were really dead. +Eliduc's sorrow was all the more, since he deemed that he had slain +her with his hand. He inquired of his companions in what near place +they might lay the lady to her rest, "for I will not bid her farewell, +till she is put in holy ground with such pomp and rite as befit the +obsequies of the daughter of a King." His comrades answered him never +a word, for they were all bemused by reason of what had befallen. +Eliduc, therefore, considered within himself to what place he should +carry the lady. His own home was so near the haven where he had come, +that very easily they could ride there before evening. He called to +mind that in his realm there was a certain great forest, both long and +deep. Within this wood there was a little chapel, served by a holy +hermit for forty years, with whom Eliduc had oftimes spoken. + +"To this holy man," he said, "I will bear my lady. In his chapel he +shall bury her sweet body. I will endow him so richly of my lands, +that upon her chantry shall be founded a mighty abbey. There some +convent of monks or nuns or canons shall ever hold her in remembrance, +praying God to grant her mercy in His day." + +Eliduc got to horse, but first took oath of his comrades that never, +by them, should be discovered, that which they should see. He set his +friend before him on the palfrey, and thus the living and the dead +rode together, till they had entered the wood, and come before the +chapel. The squires called and beat upon the door, but it remained +fast, and none was found to give them any answer. Eliduc bade that one +should climb through a window, and open the door from within. When +they had come within the chapel they found a new made tomb, and writ +thereon, that the holy hermit having finished his course, was made +perfect, eight days before Passing sad was Eliduc, and esmayed. His +companions would have digged a second grave, and set therein, his +friend; but the knight would in no wise consent, for--he said--he +purposed to take counsel of the priests of his country, as to building +some church or abbey above her tomb. "At this hour we will but lay her +body before the altar, and commend her to God His holy keeping." +He commanded them to bring their mantles and make a bed upon the +altar-pace. Thereon they laid the maiden, and having wrapped her close +in her lover's cloak, left her alone. When the moment came for Eliduc +to take farewell of his lady, he deemed that his own last hour had +come. He kissed her eyes and her face. + +"Fair friend," said he, "if it be pleasing to God, never will I bear +sword or lance again, or seek the pleasures of this mortal world. Fair +friend, in an ill hour you saw me! Sweet lady, in a bitter hour you +followed me to death! Fairest, now were you a queen, were it not for +the pure and loyal love you set upon me? Passing sad of heart am I for +you, my friend. The hour that I have seen you in your shroud, I will +take the habit of some holy order, and every day, upon your tomb, I +will tell over the chaplet of my sorrow." + +Having taken farewell of the maiden, Eliduc came forth from the +chapel, and closed the doors. He sent messages to his wife, that he +was returning to his house, but weary and overborne. When the dame +heard these tidings, she was happy in her heart, and made ready to +greet him. She received her lord tenderly; but little joy came of her +welcome, for she got neither smiles in answer, nor tender words in +return. She dared not inquire the reason, during the two days Eliduc +remained in the house. The knight heard Mass very early in the +morning, and then set forth on the road leading to the chapel where +the maiden lay. He found her as he had parted, for she had not come +back from her swoon, and there was neither stir in her, nor breath. He +marvelled greatly, for he saw her, vermeil and white, as he had known +her in life. She had lost none of her sweet colour, save that she was +a little blanched. He wept bitterly above her, and entreated for her +soul. Having made his prayer, he went again to his house. + +On a day when Eliduc went forth, his wife called to her a varlet of +her household, commanding him to follow his lord afar off, and mark +where he went, and on what business. She promised to give him harness +and horses, if he did according to her will. The varlet hid himself in +the wood, and followed so cunningly after his lord, that he was not +perceived. He watched the knight enter the chapel, and heard the +cry and lamentation that he made. When Eliduc came out, the varlet +hastened to his mistress, and told her what he had seen, the tears and +dolour, and all that befell his lord within the hermitage. The lady +summoned all her courage. + +"We will go together, as soon as we may, to this hermitage. My lord +tells me that he rides presently to the Court to speak with the King. +I knew that my husband loved this dead hermit very tenderly, but I +little thought that his loss would make him mad with grief." + +The next day the dame let her lord go forth in peace. When, about +noon, Eliduc rode to the Court to greet his King, the lady rose +quickly, and carrying the varlet with her, went swiftly to the +hermitage. She entered the chapel, and saw the bed upon the +altar-pace, and the maiden thereon, like a new sprung rose. Stooping +down the lady removed the mantle. She marked the rigid body, the long +arms, and the frail white hands, with their slender fingers, folded on +the breast. Thus she learned the secret of the sorrow of her lord. She +called the varlet within the chapel, and showed him this wonder. + +"Seest thou," she said, "this woman, who for beauty shineth as a gem! +This lady, in her life, was the lover of my lord. It was for her that +all his days were spoiled by grief. By my faith I marvel little at +his sorrow, since I, who am a woman too, will--for pity's sake or +love--never know joy again, having seen so fair a lady in the dust." + +So the wife wept above the body of the maiden. Whilst the lady +sat weeping, a weasel came from under the altar, and ran across +Guillardun's body. The varlet smote it with his staff, and killed it +as it passed. He took the vermin and flung it away. The companion of +this weasel presently came forth to seek him. She ran to the place +where he lay, and finding that he would not get him on his feet, +seemed as one distraught. She went forth from the chapel, and hastened +to the wood, from whence she returned quickly, bearing a vermeil +flower beneath her teeth. This red flower she placed within the mouth +of that weasel the varlet had slain, and immediately he stood upon his +feet. When the lady saw this, she cried to the varlet, + +"Throw, man, throw, and gain the flower." + +The servitor flung his staff, and the weasels fled away, leaving that +fair flower upon the floor. The lady rose. She took the flower, and +returned with it swiftly to the altar pace. Within the mouth of the +maiden, she set a flower that was more vermeil still. For a short +space the dame and the damsel were alike breathless. Then the maiden +came to herself, with a sigh. She opened her eyes, and commenced to +speak. + +"Diva," she said, "have I slept so long, indeed!" + +When the lady heard her voice she gave thanks to God. She inquired of +the maiden as to her name and degree. The damsel made answer to her, +"Lady, I was born in Logres, and am daughter to the King of that +realm. Greatly there I loved a knight, named Eliduc, the seneschal of +my sire. We fled together from my home, to my own most grievous fault. +He never told me that he was wedded to a wife in his own country, and +he hid the matter so cunningly, that I knew naught thereof. When I +heard tell of his dame, I swooned for pure sorrow. Now I find that +this false lover, has, like a felon, betrayed me in a strange land. +What will chance to a maiden in so foul a plight? Great is that +woman's folly who puts her trust in man." + +"Fair damsel," replied the lady, "there is nothing in the whole world +that can give such joy to this felon, as to hear that you are yet +alive. He deems that you are dead, and every day he beweeps your swoon +in the chapel. I am his wife, and my heart is sick, just for looking +on his sorrow. To learn the reason of his grief, I caused him to +be followed, and that is why I have found you here. It is a great +happiness for me to know that you live. You shall return with me to my +home, and I will place you in the tenderness of your friend. Then I +shall release him of his marriage troth, since it is my dearest hope +to take the veil." + +When the wife had comforted the maiden with such words, they went +together to her own house. She called to her servitor, and bade him +seek his lord. The varlet went here and there, till he lighted on +Eliduc. He came before him, and showed him of all these things. Eliduc +mounted straightway on his horse, and waiting neither for squire or +companion, that same night came to his hall. When he found alive, her, +who once was dead, Eliduc thanked his wife for so dear a gift. He +rejoiced beyond measure, and of all his days, no day was more happy +than this. He kissed the maiden often, and very sweetly she gave him +again his kiss, for great was the joy between the twain. The dame +looked on their happiness, and knew that her lord meetly had bestowed +his love. She prayed him, therefore, that he would grant her leave to +depart, since she would serve God as a cloistered nun. Of his wealth +she craved such a portion as would permit her to found a convent. He +would then be able to wed the maiden on whom his heart was set, for it +was neither honest nor seemly that a man should maintain a wife with +either hand. + +Eliduc could do no otherwise than consent. He gave the permission she +asked, and did all according to her will. He endowed the lady of his +lands, near by that chapel and hermitage, within the wood. There he +built a church with offices and refectory, fair to see. Much wealth he +bestowed on the convent, in money and estate. When all was brought to +a good end, the lady took the veil upon her head. Thirty other ladies +entered in the house with her, and long she ruled them as their +Abbess, right wisely and well. + +Eliduc wedded with his friend, in great pomp, and passing rich was the +marriage feast. They dwelt in unity together for many days, for ever +between them was perfect love. They walked uprightly, and gave alms of +their goods, till such a time as it became them to turn to God. After +much thought, Eliduc built a great church close beside his castle. +He endowed it with all his gold and silver, and with the rest of his +land. He set priests there, and holy layfolk also, for the business of +the house, and the fair services of religion. + +When all was builded and ordered, Eliduc offered himself, with them, +that he--weak man--might serve the omnipotent God. He set with the +Abbess Guildeluec--who once was his dame--that wife whom he loved so +dearly well. The Abbess received her as a sister, and welcomed her +right honourably. She admonished her in the offices of God, and taught +her of the rules and practice of their holy Order. They prayed to God +for their friend, that He would grant him mercy in His day. In turn, +he entreated God for them. Messages came from convent and monastery as +to how they fared, so that each might encourage the other in His way. +Each strove painfully, for himself and his, to love God the more +dearly, and to abide in His holy faith. Each made a good end, and the +mercy of God was abundantly made clear to all. + +Of the adventure of these three lovers, the courteous Bretons made +this Lay for remembrance, since they deemed it a matter that men +should not forget. + + + + +V + + +THE LAY OF THE NIGHTINGALE + +Now will I tell you a story, whereof the Breton harper already has +made a Lay. Laustic, I deem, men name it in that country, which, being +interpreted, means rossignol in French, and nightingale in good plain +English. + +In the realm of Brittany stands a certain rich and mighty city, called +Saint Malo. There were citizens of this township two knights, so well +spoken and reputed of all, that the city drew therefrom great profit +and fame. The houses of these lords were very near the one to the +other. One of the two knights had to wife a passing fair lady, right +gracious of manner and sweet of tongue. Wondrous pleasure found this +dame to array herself richly, after the wont and fashion of her time. +The other knight was yet a bachelor. He was well accounted of amongst +his fellows as a hardy knight and as an honourable man. He gave +hospitality gladly. Largely he gained, largely he spent, and willingly +bestowed gifts of all that he had. + +This bachelor set his love upon his neighbour's wife. By reason of his +urgent prayers, his long suit and service, and by reason that all men +spake naught of him but praise--perchance, also, for reason that he +was never far from her eye--presently this lady came to set her heart +on him again. Though these two friends loved right tenderly, yet were +they so private and careful in their loves that none perceived what +was in their hearts. No man pried on them, or disturbed their goings +and comings. These were the more easy to devise since the bachelor and +the lady were such near neighbours. Their two houses stood side by +side, hall and cellar and combles. Only between the gardens was built +a high and ancient wall, of worn gray stone. When the lady sat within +her bower, by leaning from the casement she and her friend might speak +together, he to her, and she to him. They could also throw messages in +writing, and divers pretty gifts, the one to the other. Little enough +had they to displease them, and greatly were they at their ease, save +only that they might not take their pleasure together, so often as +their hearts had wished. For the dame was guarded very straitly when +her husband was abroad. Yet not so strictly but that they might have +word and speech, the now by night and now by day. At least, however +close the watch and ward, none might hinder that at times these fair +lovers stood within their casements, and looked fondly on the other's +face. + +Now after these friends had loved for a great space it chanced that +the season became warm and sweet. It was the time when meadow and +copse are green; when orchards grow white with bloom, and birds break +into song as thickly as the bush to flower. It is the season when he +who loves would win to his desire. Truly I tell you that the knight +would have done all in his power to attain his wish, and the lady, for +her part, yearned for sight and speech of her friend. At night, when +the moon shone clearly in the sky, and her lord lay sleeping at her +side, often the dame slipped softly from her bed, and hastening to the +casement, leaned forth to have sight of him who watched. The greater +part of the dark they kept vigil together, for very pleasant it is to +look upon your friend, when sweeter things are denied. + +This chanced so often, and the lady rose so frequently from her bed, +that her lord was altogether wrathful, and many a time inquired the +reason of her unrest. + +"Husband," replied the dame, "there is no dearer joy in this world, +than to hear the nightingale sing. It is to hearken to the song that +rises so sweetly on the night, that I lean forth from the casement. +What tune of harp or viol is half so fair! Because of my delight in +his song, and of my desire to hear, I may not shut my eyes till it be +morn." + +When the husband heard the lady's words he laughed within himself for +wrath and malice. He purposed that very soon the nightingale should +sing within a net. So he bade the servants of his house to devise +fillets and snares, and to set their cunning traps about the orchard. +Not a chestnut tree nor hazel within the garth but was limed and +netted for the caging of this bird. It was not long therefore ere the +nightingale was taken, and the servants made haste to give him to the +pleasure of their lord. Wondrous merry was the knight when he held him +living in his hand. He went straightway to the chamber of his dame, +and entering, said, + +"Wife, are you within? Come near, for I must speak with you. Here is +the nightingale, all limed and taken, who made vigil of your sleeping +hours. Take now your rest in peace, for he will never disturb you +more." + +When the lady understood these words she was marvellously sorrowful +and heavy. She prayed her lord to grant her the nightingale for a +gift. But for all answer he wrung his neck with both hands so fiercely +that the head was torn from the body. Then, right foully, he flung the +bird upon the knees of the dame, in such fashion that her breast +was sprinkled with the blood. So he departed, incontinent, from the +chamber in a rage. + +The lady took the little body in her hands, and wept his evil fate. +She railed on those who with nets and snares had betrayed the +nightingale to his death; for anger and hate beyond measure had gained +hold on her heart. + +"Alas," cried she, "evil is come upon me. Never again may I rise from +my bed in the night, and watch from the casement, so that I may see my +friend. One thing I know full well, that he will deem my love is no +more set upon him. Woe to her who has none to give her counsel. This I +will do. I will bestow the nightingale upon him, and send him tidings +of the chance that has befallen." + +So this doleful lady took a fair piece of white samite, broidered with +gold, and wrought thereon the whole story of this adventure. In this +silken cloth she wrapped the body of the little bird, and calling to +her a trusty servant of her house, charged him with the message, and +bade him bear it to her friend. The varlet went his way to the knight, +and having saluted him on the part of the lady, he told over to him +the story, and bestowed the nightingale upon him. When all had been +rehearsed and shown to him, and he had well considered the matter, +the knight was very dolent; yet in no wise would he avenge himself +wrongfully. So he caused a certain coffret to be fashioned, made not +of iron or steel, but of fine gold and fair stones, most rich and +precious, right strongly clasped and bound. In this little chest he +set the body of the nightingale, and having sealed the shrine, carried +it upon him whenever his business took him abroad. + +This adventure could not long be hid. Very swiftly it was noised about +the country, and the Breton folk made a Lay thereon, which they +called the Lay of the Laustic, in their own tongue. + + + + +VI + + +THE LAY OF SIR LAUNFAL + +I will tell you the story of another Lay. It relates the adventures +of a rich and mighty baron, and the Breton calls it, the Lay of Sir +Launfal. + +King Arthur--that fearless knight and courteous lord--removed to +Wales, and lodged at Caerleon-on-Usk, since the Picts and Scots did +much mischief in the land. For it was the wont of the wild people of +the north to enter in the realm of Logres, and burn and damage at +their will. At the time of Pentecost, the King cried a great feast. +Thereat he gave many rich gifts to his counts and barons, and to the +Knights of the Round Table. Never were such worship and bounty shown +before at any feast, for Arthur bestowed honours and lands on all his +servants--save only on one. This lord, who was forgotten and misliked +of the King, was named Launfal. He was beloved by many of the Court, +because of his beauty and prowess, for he was a worthy knight, open of +heart and heavy of hand. These lords, to whom their comrade was dear, +felt little joy to see so stout a knight misprized. Sir Launfal was +son to a King of high descent, though his heritage was in a distant +land. He was of the King's household, but since Arthur gave him +naught, and he was of too proud a mind to pray for his due, he had +spent all that he had. Right heavy was Sir Launfal, when he considered +these things, for he knew himself taken in the toils. Gentles, marvel +not overmuch hereat. Ever must the pilgrim go heavily in a strange +land, where there is none to counsel and direct him in the path. + +Now, on a day, Sir Launfal got him on his horse, that he might take +his pleasure for a little. He came forth from the city, alone, +attended by neither servant nor squire. He went his way through a +green mead, till he stood by a river of clear running water. Sir +Launfal would have crossed this stream, without thought of pass or +ford, but he might not do so, for reason that his horse was all +fearful and trembling. Seeing that he was hindered in this fashion, +Launfal unbitted his steed, and let him pasture in that fair meadow, +where they had come. Then he folded his cloak to serve him as a +pillow, and lay upon the ground. Launfal lay in great misease, because +of his heavy thoughts, and the discomfort of his bed. He turned from +side to side, and might not sleep. Now as the knight looked towards +the river he saw two damsels coming towards him; fairer maidens +Launfal had never seen. These two maidens were richly dressed in +kirtles closely laced and shapen to their persons and wore mantles +of a goodly purple hue. Sweet and dainty were the damsels, alike in +raiment and in face. The elder of these ladies carried in her hands a +basin of pure gold, cunningly wrought by some crafty smith--very fair +and precious was the cup; and the younger bore a towel of soft white +linen. These maidens turned neither to the right hand nor to the left, +but went directly to the place where Launfal lay. When Launfal saw +that their business was with him, he stood upon his feet, like a +discreet and courteous gentleman. After they had greeted the knight, +one of the maidens delivered the message with which she was charged. + +"Sir Launfal, my demoiselle, as gracious as she is fair, prays that +you will follow us, her messengers, as she has a certain word to speak +with you. We will lead you swiftly to her pavilion, for our lady is +very near at hand. If you but lift your eyes you may see where her +tent is spread." + +Right glad was the knight to do the bidding of the maidens. He gave no +heed to his horse, but left him at his provand in the meadow. All his +desire was to go with the damsels, to that pavilion of silk and divers +colours, pitched in so fair a place. Certainly neither Semiramis in +the days of her most wanton power, nor Octavian, the Emperor of all +the West, had so gracious a covering from sun and rain. Above the tent +was set an eagle of gold, so rich and precious, that none might count +the cost. The cords and fringes thereof were of silken thread, and the +lances which bore aloft the pavilion were of refined gold. No King on +earth might have so sweet a shelter, not though he gave in fee the +value of his realm. Within this pavilion Launfal came upon the Maiden. +Whiter she was than any altar lily, and more sweetly flushed than the +new born rose in time of summer heat. She lay upon a bed with napery +and coverlet of richer worth than could be furnished by a castle's +spoil. Very fresh and slender showed the lady in her vesture of +spotless linen. About her person she had drawn a mantle of ermine, +edged with purple dye from the vats of Alexandria. By reason of the +heat her raiment was unfastened for a little, and her throat and the +rondure of her bosom showed whiter and more untouched than hawthorn in +May. The knight came before the bed, and stood gazing on so sweet a +sight. The Maiden beckoned him to draw near, and when he had seated +himself at the foot of her couch, spoke her mind. + +"Launfal," she said, "fair friend, it is for you that I have come from +my own far land. I bring you my love. If you are prudent and discreet, +as you are goodly to the view, there is no emperor nor count, nor +king, whose day shall be so filled with riches and with mirth as +yours." + +When Launfal heard these words he rejoiced greatly, for his heart was +litten by another's torch. + +"Fair lady," he answered, "since it pleases you to be so gracious, and +to dower so graceless a knight with your love, there is naught that +you may bid me do--right or wrong, evil or good--that I will not do to +the utmost of my power. I will observe your commandment, and serve in +your quarrels. For you I renounce my father and my father's house. +This only I pray, that I may dwell with you in your lodging, and that +you will never send me from your side." + +When the Maiden heard the words of him whom so fondly she desired to +love, she was altogether moved, and granted him forthwith her heart +and her tenderness. To her bounty she added another gift besides. +Never might Launfal be desirous of aught, but he would have according +to his wish. He might waste and spend at will and pleasure, but in his +purse ever there was to spare. No more was Launfal sad. Right merry +was the pilgrim, since one had set him on the way, with such a gift, +that the more pennies he bestowed, the more silver and gold were in +his pouch. + +But the Maiden had yet a word to say. + +"Friend," she said, "hearken to my counsel. I lay this charge upon +you, and pray you urgently, that you tell not to any man the secret of +our love. If you show this matter, you will lose your friend, for ever +and a day. Never again may you see my face. Never again will you have +seisin of that body, which is now so tender in your eyes." + +Launfal plighted faith, that right strictly he would observe this +commandment. So the Maiden granted him her kiss and her embrace, and +very sweetly in that fair lodging passed the day till evensong was +come. + +Right loath was Launfal to depart from the pavilion at the vesper +hour, and gladly would he have stayed, had he been able, and his lady +wished. + +"Fair friend," said she, "rise up, for no longer may you tarry. The +hour is come that we must part. But one thing I have to say before you +go. When you would speak with me I shall hasten to come before your +wish. Well I deem that you will only call your friend where she may +be found without reproach or shame of men. You may see me at your +pleasure; my voice shall speak softly in your ear at will; but I must +never be known of your comrades, nor must they ever learn my speech." + +Right joyous was Launfal to hear this thing. He sealed the covenant +with a kiss, and stood upon his feet. Then there entered the two +maidens who had led him to the pavilion, bringing with them rich +raiment, fitting for a knight's apparel. When Launfal had clothed +himself therewith, there seemed no goodlier varlet under heaven, for +certainly he was fair and true. After these maidens had refreshed him +with clear water, and dried his hands upon the napkin, Launfal went +to meat. His friend sat at table with him, and small will had he to +refuse her courtesy. Very serviceably the damsels bore the meats, and +Launfal and the Maiden ate and drank with mirth and content. But one +dish was more to the knight's relish than any other. Sweeter than the +dainties within his mouth, was the lady's kiss upon his lips. + +When supper was ended, Launfal rose from table, for his horse stood +waiting without the pavilion. The destrier was newly saddled and +bridled, and showed proudly in his rich gay trappings. So Launfal +kissed, and bade farewell, and went his way. He rode back towards the +city at a slow pace. Often he checked his steed, and looked behind +him, for he was filled with amazement, and all bemused concerning this +adventure. In his heart he doubted that it was but a dream. He was +altogether astonished, and knew not what to do. He feared that +pavilion and Maiden alike were from the realm of faery. + +Launfal returned to his lodging, and was greeted by servitors, clad +no longer in ragged raiment. He fared richly, lay softly, and spent +largely, but never knew how his purse was filled. There was no lord +who had need of a lodging in the town, but Launfal brought him to +his hall, for refreshment and delight. Launfal bestowed rich gifts. +Launfal redeemed the poor captive. Launfal clothed in scarlet the +minstrel. Launfal gave honour where honour was due. Stranger and +friend alike he comforted at need. So, whether by night or by day, +Launfal lived greatly at his ease. His lady, she came at will and +pleasure, and, for the rest, all was added unto him. + +Now it chanced, the same year, about the feast of St. John, a company +of knights came, for their solace, to an orchard, beneath that tower +where dwelt the Queen. Together with these lords went Gawain and his +cousin, Yvain the fair. Then said Gawain, that goodly knight, beloved +and dear to all, + +"Lords, we do wrong to disport ourselves in this pleasaunce without +our comrade Launfal. It is not well to slight a prince as brave as he +is courteous, and of a lineage prouder than our own." + +Then certain of the lords returned to the city, and finding Launfal +within his hostel, entreated him to take his pastime with them in that +fair meadow. The Queen looked out from a window in her tower, she and +three ladies of her fellowship. They saw the lords at their pleasure, +and Launfal also, whom well they knew. So the Queen chose of her Court +thirty damsels--the sweetest of face and most dainty of fashion--and +commanded that they should descend with her to take their delight in +the garden. When the knights beheld this gay company of ladies come +down the steps of the perron, they rejoiced beyond measure. They +hastened before to lead them by the hand, and said such words in their +ear as were seemly and pleasant to be spoken. Amongst these merry and +courteous lords hasted not Sir Launfal. He drew apart from the throng, +for with him time went heavily, till he might have clasp and greeting +of his friend. The ladies of the Queen's fellowship seemed but kitchen +wenches to his sight, in comparison with the loveliness of the maiden. +When the Queen marked Launfal go aside, she went his way, and seating +herself upon the herb, called the knight before her. Then she opened +out her heart. + +"Launfal, I have honoured you for long as a worthy knight, and have +praised and cherished you very dearly. You may receive a queen's whole +love, if such be your care. Be content: he to whom my heart is given, +has small reason to complain him of the alms." + +"Lady," answered the knight, "grant me leave to go, for this grace is +not for me. I am the King's man, and dare not break my troth. Not for +the highest lady in the world, not even for her love, will I set this +reproach upon my lord." + +When the Queen heard this, she was full of wrath, and spoke many hot +and bitter words. + +"Launfal," she cried, "well I know that you think little of woman and +her love. There are sins more black that a man may have upon his soul. +Traitor you are, and false. Right evil counsel gave they to my lord, +who prayed him to suffer you about his person. You remain only for his +harm and loss." + +Launfal was very dolent to hear this thing. He was not slow to take up +the Queen's glove, and in his haste spake words that he repented long, +and with tears. + +"Lady," said he, "I am not of that guild of which you speak. Neither +am I a despiser of woman, since I love, and am loved, of one who would +bear the prize from all the ladies in the land. Dame, know now and be +persuaded, that she, whom I serve, is so rich in state, that the very +meanest of her maidens, excels you, Lady Queen, as much in clerkly +skill and goodness, as in sweetness of body and face, and in every +virtue." + +The Queen rose straightway to her feet, and fled to her chamber, +weeping. Right wrathful and heavy was she, because of the words that +had besmirched her. She lay sick upon her bed, from which, she said, +she would never rise, till the King had done her justice, and righted +this bitter wrong. Now the King that day had taken his pleasure within +the woods. He returned from the chase towards evening, and sought the +chamber of the Queen. When the lady saw him, she sprang from her bed, +and kneeling at his feet, pleaded for grace and pity. Launfal--she +said--had shamed her, since he required her love. When she had put him +by, very foully had he reviled her, boasting that his love was already +set on a lady, so proud and noble, that her meanest wench went more +richly, and smiled more sweetly, than the Queen. Thereat the King +waxed marvellously wrathful, and swore a great oath that he would set +Launfal within a fire, or hang him from a tree, if he could not deny +this thing, before his peers. + +Arthur came forth from the Queen's chamber, and called to him three +of his lords. These he sent to seek the knight who so evilly had +entreated the Queen. Launfal, for his part, had returned to his +lodging, in a sad and sorrowful case. He saw very clearly that he had +lost his friend, since he had declared their love to men. Launfal sat +within his chamber, sick and heavy of thought. Often he called upon +his friend, but the lady would not hear his voice. He bewailed his +evil lot, with tears; for grief he came nigh to swoon; a hundred times +he implored the Maiden that she would deign to speak with her knight. +Then, since the lady yet refrained from speech, Launfal cursed his hot +and unruly tongue. Very near he came to ending all this trouble with +his knife. Naught he found to do but to wring his hands, and call upon +the Maiden, begging her to forgive his trespass, and to talk with him +again, as friend to friend. + +But little peace is there for him who is harassed by a King. There +came presently to Launfal's hostel those three barons from the Court. +These bade the knight forthwith to go with them to Arthur's presence, +to acquit him of this wrong against the Queen. Launfal went forth, to +his own deep sorrow. Had any man slain him on the road, he would +have counted him his friend. He stood before the King, downcast and +speechless, being dumb by reason of that great grief, of which he +showed the picture and image. + +Arthur looked upon his captive very evilly. + +"Vassal," said he, harshly, "you have done me a bitter wrong. It was a +foul deed to seek to shame me in this ugly fashion, and to smirch the +honour of the Queen. Is it folly or lightness which leads you to boast +of that lady, the least of whose maidens is fairer, and goes more +richly, than the Queen?" + +Launfal protested that never had he set such shame upon his lord. +Word by word he told the tale of how he denied the Queen, within the +orchard. But concerning that which he had spoken of the lady, he owned +the truth, and his folly. The love of which he bragged was now lost to +him, by his own exceeding fault. He cared little for his life, and was +content to obey the judgment of the Court. + +Right wrathful was the King at Launfal's words. He conjured his barons +to give him such wise counsel herein, that wrong might be done to +none. The lords did the King's bidding, whether good came of the +matter, or evil. They gathered themselves together, and appointed a +certain day that Launfal should abide the judgment of his peers. For +his part Launfal must give pledge and surety to his lord, that he +would come before this judgment in his own body. If he might not give +such surety then he should be held captive till the appointed day. +When the lords of the King's household returned to tell him of their +counsel, Arthur demanded that Launfal should put such pledge in his +hand, as they had said. Launfal was altogether mazed and bewildered at +this judgment, for he had neither friend nor kindred in the land. He +would have been set in prison, but Gawain came first to offer himself +as his surety, and with him, all the knights of his fellowship. These +gave into the King's hand as pledge, the fiefs and lands that they +held of his Crown. The King having taken pledges from the sureties, +Launfal returned to his lodging, and with him certain knights of his +company. They blamed him greatly because of his foolish love, and +chastened him grievously by reason of the sorrow he made before men. +Every day they came to his chamber, to know of his meat and drink, for +much they feared that presently he would become mad. + +The lords of the household came together on the day appointed for this +judgment. The King was on his chair, with the Queen sitting at his +side. The sureties brought Launfal within the hall, and rendered him +into the hands of his peers. Right sorrowful were they because of his +plight. A great company of his fellowship did all that they were able +to acquit him of this charge. When all was set out, the King demanded +the judgment of the Court, according to the accusation and the answer. +The barons went forth in much trouble and thought to consider this +matter. Many amongst them grieved for the peril of a good knight in +a strange land; others held that it were well for Launfal to suffer, +because of the wish and malice of their lord. Whilst they were thus +perplexed, the Duke of Cornwall rose in the council, and said, + +"Lords, the King pursues Launfal as a traitor, and would slay him with +the sword, by reason that he bragged of the beauty of his maiden, +and roused the jealousy of the Queen. By the faith that I owe this +company, none complains of Launfal, save only the King. For our part +we would know the truth of this business, and do justice between the +King and his man. We would also show proper reverence to our own liege +lord. Now, if it be according to Arthur's will, let us take oath of +Launfal, that he seek this lady, who has put such strife between him +and the Queen. If her beauty be such as he has told us, the Queen will +have no cause for wrath. She must pardon Launfal for his rudeness, +since it will be plain that he did not speak out of a malicious heart. +Should Launfal fail his word, and not return with the lady, or should +her fairness fall beneath his boast, then let him be cast off from our +fellowship, and be sent forth from the service of the King." + +This counsel seemed good to the lords of the household. They sent +certain of his friends to Launfal, to acquaint him with their +judgment, bidding him to pray his damsel to the Court, that he might +be acquitted of this blame. The knight made answer that in no wise +could he do this thing. So the sureties returned before the judges, +saying that Launfal hoped neither for refuge nor for succour from +the lady, and Arthur urged them to a speedy ending, because of the +prompting of the Queen. + +The judges were about to give sentence upon Launfal, when they saw +two maidens come riding towards the palace, upon two white ambling +palfreys. Very sweet and dainty were these maidens, and richly clothed +in garments of crimson sendal, closely girt and fashioned to their +bodies. All men, old and young, looked willingly upon them, for fair +they were to see. Gawain, and three knights of his company, went +straight to Launfal, and showed him these maidens, praying him to +say which of them was his friend. But he answered never a word. The +maidens dismounted from their palfreys, and coming before the dais +where the King was seated, spake him fairly, as they were fair. + +"Sire, prepare now a chamber, hung with silken cloths, where it is +seemly for my lady to dwell; for she would lodge with you awhile." + +This gift the King granted gladly. He called to him two knights of his +household, and bade them bestow the maidens in such chambers as were +fitting to their degree. The maidens being gone, the King required of +his barons to proceed with their judgment, saying that he had sore +displeasure at the slowness of the cause. + +"Sire," replied the barons, "we rose from Council, because of the +damsels who entered in the hall. We will at once resume the sitting, +and give our judgment without more delay." + +The barons again were gathered together, in much thought and trouble, +to consider this matter. There was great strife and dissension amongst +them, for they knew not what to do. In the midst of all this noise and +tumult, there came two other damsels riding to the hall on two Spanish +mules. Very richly arrayed were these damsels in raiment of fine +needlework, and their kirtles were covered by fresh fair mantles, +embroidered with gold. Great joy had Launfal's comrades when they +marked these ladies. They said between themselves that doubtless they +came for the succour of the good knight. Gawain, and certain of his +company, made haste to Launfal, and said, "Sir, be not cast down. +Two ladies are near at hand, right dainty of dress, and gracious of +person. Tell us truly, for the love of God, is one of these your +friend?" + +But Launfal answered very simply that never before had he seen these +damsels with his eyes, nor known and loved them in his heart. + +The maidens dismounted from their mules, and stood before Arthur, in +the sight of all. Greatly were they praised of many, because of their +beauty, and of the colour of their face and hair. Some there were who +deemed already that the Queen was overborne. + +The elder of the damsels carried herself modestly and well, and +sweetly told over the message wherewith she was charged. + +"Sire, make ready for us chambers, where we may abide with our lady, +for even now she comes to speak with thee." + +The King commanded that the ladies should be led to their companions, +and bestowed in the same honourable fashion as they. Then he bade the +lords of his household to consider their judgment, since he would +endure no further respite. The Court already had given too much time +to the business, and the Queen was growing wrathful, because of the +blame that was hers. Now the judges were about to proclaim their +sentence, when, amidst the tumult of the town, there came riding to +the palace the flower of all the ladies of the world. She came mounted +upon a palfrey, white as snow, which carried her softly, as though she +loved her burthen. Beneath the sky was no goodlier steed, nor one more +gentle to the hand. The harness of the palfrey was so rich, that no +king on earth might hope to buy trappings so precious, unless he sold +or set his realm in pledge. The Maiden herself showed such as I will +tell you. Passing slim was the lady, sweet of bodice and slender of +girdle. Her throat was whiter than snow on branch, and her eyes were +like flowers in the pallor of her face. She had a witching mouth, a +dainty nose, and an open brow. Her eyebrows were brown, and her golden +hair parted in two soft waves upon her head. She was clad in a shift +of spotless linen, and above her snowy kirtle was set a mantle of +royal purple, clasped upon her breast. She carried a hooded falcon +upon her glove, and a greyhound followed closely after. As the Maiden +rode at a slow pace through the streets of the city, there was none, +neither great nor small, youth nor sergeant, but ran forth from his +house, that he might content his heart with so great beauty. Every man +that saw her with his eyes, marvelled at a fairness beyond that of any +earthly woman. Little he cared for any mortal maiden, after he had +seen this sight. The friends of Sir Launfal hastened to the knight, to +tell him of his lady's succour, if so it were according to God's will. + +"Sir comrade, truly is not this your friend? This lady is neither +black nor golden, mean nor tall. She is only the most lovely thing in +all the world." + +When Launfal heard this, he sighed, for by their words he knew again +his friend. He raised his head, and as the blood rushed to his face, +speech flowed from his lips. + +"By my faith," cried he, "yes, she is indeed my friend. It is a small +matter now whether men slay me, or set me free; for I am made whole of +my hurt just by looking on her face." + +The Maiden entered in the palace--where none so fair had come +before--and stood before the King, in the presence of his household. +She loosed the clasp of her mantle, so that men might the more easily +perceive the grace of her person. The courteous King advanced to meet +her, and all the Court got them on their feet, and pained themselves +in her service. When the lords had gazed upon her for a space, and +praised the sum of her beauty, the lady spake to Arthur in this +fashion, for she was anxious to begone. + +"Sire, I have loved one of thy vassals,--the knight who stands in +bonds, Sir Launfal. He was always misprized in thy Court, and his +every action turned to blame. What he said, that thou knowest; for +over hasty was his tongue before the Queen. But he never craved her in +love, however loud his boasting. I cannot choose that he should come +to hurt or harm by me. In the hope of freeing Launfal from his bonds, +I have obeyed thy summons. Let now thy barons look boldly upon my +face, and deal justly in this quarrel between the Queen and me." + +The King commanded that this should be done, and looking upon her +eyes, not one of the judges but was persuaded that her favour exceeded +that of the Queen. + +Since then Launfal had not spoken in malice against his lady, the +lords of the household gave him again his sword. When the trial had +come thus to an end the Maiden took her leave of the King, and made +her ready to depart. Gladly would Arthur have had her lodge with him +for a little, and many a lord would have rejoiced in her service, but +she might not tarry. Now without the hall stood a great stone of dull +marble, where it was the wont of lords, departing from the Court, to +climb into the saddle, and Launfal by the stone. The Maiden came +forth from the doors of the palace, and mounting on the stone, seated +herself on the palfrey, behind her friend. Then they rode across the +plain together, and were no more seen. + +The Bretons tell that the knight was ravished by his lady to an +island, very dim and very fair, known as Avalon. But none has had +speech with Launfal and his faery love since then, and for my part I +can tell you no more of the matter. + + + + +VII + + +THE LAY OF THE TWO LOVERS + +Once upon a time there lived in Normandy two lovers, who were passing +fond, and were brought by Love to Death. The story of their love was +bruited so abroad, that the Bretons made a song in their own tongue, +and named this song the Lay of the Two Lovers. + +In Neustria--that men call Normandy--there is verily a high and +marvellously great mountain, where lie the relics of the Two Children. +Near this high place the King of those parts caused to be built a +certain fair and cunning city, and since he was lord of the Pistrians, +it was known as Pistres. The town yet endures, with its towers and +houses, to bear witness to the truth; moreover the country thereabouts +is known to us all as the Valley of Pistres. + +This King had one fair daughter, a damsel sweet of face and gracious +of manner, very near to her father's heart, since he had lost his +Queen. The maiden increased in years and favour, but he took no heed +to her trothing, so that men--yea, even his own people--blamed him +greatly for this thing. When the King heard thereof he was passing +heavy and dolent, and considered within himself how he might be +delivered from this grief. So then, that none should carry off his +child, he caused it to be proclaimed, both far and near, by script and +trumpet, that he alone should wed the maid, who would bear her in his +arms, to the pinnacle of the great and perilous mountain, and that +without rest or stay. When this news was noised about the country, +many came upon the quest. But strive as they would they might not +enforce themselves more than they were able. However mighty they were +of body, at the last they failed upon the mountain, and fell with +their burthen to the ground. Thus, for a while, was none so bold as to +seek the high Princess. + +Now in this country lived a squire, son to a certain count of that +realm, seemly of semblance and courteous, and right desirous to win +that prize, which was so coveted of all. He was a welcome guest at the +Court, and the King talked with him very willingly. This squire had +set his heart upon the daughter of the King, and many a time spoke in +her ear, praying her to give him again the love he had bestowed upon +her. So seeing him brave and courteous, she esteemed him for the gifts +which gained him the favour of the King, and they loved together in +their youth. But they hid this matter from all about the Court. This +thing was very grievous to them, but the damoiseau thought within +himself that it were good to bear the pains he knew, rather than +to seek out others that might prove sharper still. Yet in the end, +altogether distraught by love, this prudent varlet sought his friend, +and showed her his case, saying that he urgently required of her that +she would flee with him, for no longer could he endure the weariness +of his days. Should he ask her of the King, well he knew that by +reason of his love he would refuse the gift, save he bore her in his +arms up the steep mount. Then the maiden made answer to her lover, and +said, + +"Fair friend, well I know you may not carry me to that high place. +Moreover should we take to flight, my father would suffer wrath and +sorrow beyond measure, and go heavily all his days. Certainly my love +is too fond to plague him thus, and we must seek another counsel, for +this is not to my heart. Hearken well. I have kindred in Salerno, of +rich estate. For more than thirty years my aunt has studied there the +art of medicine, and knows the secret gift of every root and herb. +If you hasten to her, bearing letters from me, and show her your +adventure, certainly she will find counsel and cure. Doubt not that +she will discover some cunning simple, that will strengthen your body, +as well as comfort your heart. Then return to this realm with your +potion, and ask me at my father's hand. He will deem you but a +stripling, and set forth the terms of his bargain, that to him alone +shall I be given who knows how to climb the perilous mountain, without +pause or rest, bearing his lady between his arms." + +When the varlet heard this cunning counsel of the maiden, he rejoiced +greatly, and thanking her sweetly for her rede, craved permission to +depart. He returned to his own home, and gathering together a goodly +store of silken cloths most precious, he bestowed his gear upon the +pack horses, and made him ready for the road. So with a little company +of men, mounted on swift palfreys, and most privy to his mind, he +arrived at Salerno. Now the squire made no long stay at his lodging, +but as soon as he might, went to the damsel's kindred to open out his +mind. He delivered to the aunt the letters he carried from his friend, +and bewailed their evil case. When the dame had read these letters +with him, line by line, she charged him to lodge with her awhile, till +she might do according to his wish. So by her sorceries, and for +the love of her maid, she brewed such a potion that no man, however +wearied and outworn, but by drinking this philtre, would not be +refreshed in heart and blood and bones. Such virtue had this medicine, +directly it were drunken. This simple she poured within a little +flacket, and gave it to the varlet, who received the gift with great +joy and delight, and returned swiftly to his own land. + +The varlet made no long sojourn in his home. He repaired straightway +to the Court, and, seeking out the King, required of him his fair +daughter in marriage, promising, for his part, that were she given +him, he would bear her in his arms to the summit of the mount. The +King was no wise wrath at his presumption. He smiled rather at his +folly, for how should one so young and slender succeed in a business +wherein so many mighty men had failed. Therefore he appointed a +certain day for this judgment. Moreover he caused letters to be +written to his vassals and his friends--passing none by--bidding them +to see the end of this adventure. Yea, with public cry and sound of +trumpet he bade all who would, come to behold the stripling carry his +fair daughter to the pinnacle of the mountain. And from every region +round about men came to learn the issue of this thing. But for her +part the fair maiden did all that she was able to bring her love to a +good end. Ever was it fast day and fleshless day with her, so that by +any means she might lighten the burthen that her friend must carry in +his arms. + +Now on the appointed day this young dansellon came very early to the +appointed place, bringing the flacket with him. When the great company +were fully met together, the King led forth his daughter before them; +and all might see that she was arrayed in nothing but her smock. The +varlet took the maiden in his arms, but first he gave her the flask +with the precious brewage to carry, since for pride he might not +endure to drink therefrom, save at utmost peril. The squire set forth +at a great pace, and climbed briskly till he was halfway up the mount. +Because of the joy he had in clasping his burthen, he gave no thought +to the potion. But she--she knew the strength was failing in his +heart. + +"Fair friend," said she, "well I know that you tire: drink now, I pray +you, of the flacket, and so shall your manhood come again at need." + +But the varlet answered, + +"Fair love, my heart is full of courage; nor for any reason will I +pause, so long as I can hold upon my way. It is the noise of all this +folk--the tumult and the shouting--that makes my steps uncertain. +Their cries distress me, I do not dare to stand." + +But when two thirds of the course was won, the grasshopper would have +tripped him off his feet. Urgently and often the maiden prayed him, +saying, + +"Fair friend, drink now of thy cordial." + +But he would neither hear, nor give credence to her words. A mighty +anguish filled his bosom. He climbed upon the summit of the mountain, +and pained himself grievously to bring his journey to an end. This he +might not do. He reeled and fell, nor could he rise again, for the +heart had burst within his breast. + +When the maiden saw her lover's piteous plight, she deemed that he had +swooned by reason of his pain. She kneeled hastily at his side, and +put the enchanted brewage to his lips, but he could neither drink nor +speak, for he was dead, as I have told you. She bewailed his evil lot, +with many shrill cries, and flung the useless flacket far away. The +precious potion bestrewed the ground, making a garden of that desolate +place. For many saving herbs have been found there since that day by +the simple folk of that country, which from the magic philtre derived +all their virtue. + +But when the maiden knew that her lover was dead, she made such +wondrous sorrow, as no man had ever seen. She kissed his eyes and +mouth, and falling upon his body, took him in her arms, and pressed +him closely to her breast. There was no heart so hard as not to be +touched by her sorrow; for in this fashion died a dame, who was fair +and sweet and gracious, beyond the wont of the daughters of men. + +Now the King and his company, since these two lovers came not again, +presently climbed the mountain to learn their end. But when the King +came upon them lifeless, and fast in that embrace, incontinent he fell +to the ground, bereft of sense. After his speech had returned to him, +he was passing heavy, and lamented their doleful case, and thus did +all his people with him. + +Three days they kept the bodies of these two fair children from earth, +with uncovered face. On the third day they sealed them fast in a +goodly coffin of marble, and by the counsel of all men, laid them +softly to rest on that mountain where they died. Then they departed +from them, and left them together, alone. + +Since this adventure of the Two Children this hill is known as the +Mountain of the Two Lovers, and their story being bruited abroad, the +Breton folk have made a Lay thereof, even as I have rehearsed before +you. + + + + +VIII + + +THE LAY OF THE WERE-WOLF + +Amongst the tales I tell you once again, I would not forget the Lay of +the Were-Wolf. Such beasts as he are known in every land. Bisclavaret +he is named in Brittany; whilst the Norman calls him Garwal. + +It is a certain thing, and within the knowledge of all, that many a +christened man has suffered this change, and ran wild in woods, as +a Were-Wolf. The Were-Wolf is a fearsome beast. He lurks within the +thick forest, mad and horrible to see. All the evil that he may, he +does. He goeth to and fro, about the solitary place, seeking man, in +order to devour him. Hearken, now, to the adventure of the Were-Wolf, +that I have to tell. + +In Brittany there dwelt a baron who was marvellously esteemed of all +his fellows. He was a stout knight, and a comely, and a man of office +and repute. Right private was he to the mind of his lord, and dear to +the counsel of his neighbours. This baron was wedded to a very worthy +dame, right fair to see, and sweet of semblance. All his love was set +on her, and all her love was given again to him. One only grief had +this lady. For three whole days in every week her lord was absent from +her side. She knew not where he went, nor on what errand. Neither did +any of his house know the business which called him forth. + +On a day when this lord was come again to his house, altogether +joyous and content, the lady took him to task, right sweetly, in +this fashion, "Husband," said she, "and fair, sweet friend, I have a +certain thing to pray of you. Right willingly would I receive this +gift, but I fear to anger you in the asking. It is better for me to +have an empty hand, than to gain hard words." + +When the lord heard this matter, he took the lady in his arms, very +tenderly, and kissed her. + +"Wife," he answered, "ask what you will. What would you have, for it +is yours already?" + +"By my faith," said the lady, "soon shall I be whole. Husband, right +long and wearisome are the days that you spend away from your home. +I rise from my bed in the morning, sick at heart, I know not why. So +fearful am I, lest you do aught to your loss, that I may not find any +comfort. Very quickly shall I die for reason of my dread. Tell me now, +where you go, and on what business! How may the knowledge of one who +loves so closely, bring you to harm?" + +"Wife," made answer the lord, "nothing but evil can come if I tell you +this secret. For the mercy of God do not require it of me. If you but +knew, you would withdraw yourself from my love, and I should be lost +indeed." + +When the lady heard this, she was persuaded that her baron sought to +put her by with jesting words. Therefore she prayed and required +him the more urgently, with tender looks and speech, till he was +overborne, and told her all the story, hiding naught. + +"Wife, I become Bisclavaret. I enter in the forest, and live on prey +and roots, within the thickest of the wood." + +After she had learned his secret, she prayed and entreated the more as +to whether he ran in his raiment, or went spoiled of vesture. + +"Wife," said he, "I go naked as a beast." + +"Tell me, for hope of grace, what you do with your clothing?" + +"Fair wife, that will I never. If I should lose my raiment, or even be +marked as I quit my vesture, then a Were-Wolf I must go for all the +days of my life. Never again should I become man, save in that hour my +clothing were given back to me. For this reason never will I show my +lair." + +"Husband," replied the lady to him, "I love you better than all the +world. The less cause have you for doubting my faith, or hiding any +tittle from me. What savour is here of friendship? How have I made +forfeit of your love; for what sin do you mistrust my honour? Open now +your heart, and tell what is good to be known." + +So at the end, outwearied and overborne by her importunity, he could +no longer refrain, but told her all. + +"Wife," said he, "within this wood, a little from the path, there is a +hidden way, and at the end thereof an ancient chapel, where oftentimes +I have bewailed my lot. Near by is a great hollow stone, concealed by +a bush, and there is the secret place where I hide my raiment, till I +would return to my own home." + +On hearing this marvel the lady became sanguine of visage, because of +her exceeding fear. She dared no longer to lie at his side, and turned +over in her mind, this way and that, how best she could get her from +him. Now there was a certain knight of those parts, who, for a great +while, had sought and required this lady for her love. This knight had +spent long years in her service, but little enough had he got thereby, +not even fair words, or a promise. To him the dame wrote a letter, and +meeting, made her purpose plain. + +"Fair friend," said she, "be happy. That which you have coveted so +long a time, I will grant without delay. Never again will I deny your +suit. My heart, and all I have to give, are yours, so take me now as +love and dame." + +Right sweetly the knight thanked her for her grace, and pledged her +faith and fealty. When she had confirmed him by an oath, then she told +him all this business of her lord--why he went, and what he became, +and of his ravening within the wood. So she showed him of the chapel, +and of the hollow stone, and of how to spoil the Were-Wolf of his +vesture. Thus, by the kiss of his wife, was Bisclavaret betrayed. +Often enough had he ravished his prey in desolate places, but from +this journey he never returned. His kinsfolk and acquaintance came +together to ask of his tidings, when this absence was noised abroad. +Many a man, on many a day, searched the woodland, but none might find +him, nor learn where Bisclavaret was gone. + +The lady was wedded to the knight who had cherished her for so long a +space. More than a year had passed since Bisclavaret disappeared. Then +it chanced that the King would hunt in that self-same wood where the +Were-Wolf lurked. When the hounds were unleashed they ran this way and +that, and swiftly came upon his scent. At the view the huntsman winded +on his horn, and the whole pack were at his heels. They followed him +from morn to eve, till he was torn and bleeding, and was all adread +lest they should pull him down. Now the King was very close to the +quarry, and when Bisclavaret looked upon his master, he ran to him for +pity and for grace. He took the stirrup within his paws, and fawned +upon the prince's foot. The King was very fearful at this sight, but +presently he called his courtiers to his aid. + +"Lords," cried he, "hasten hither, and see this marvellous thing. Here +is a beast who has the sense of man. He abases himself before his foe, +and cries for mercy, although he cannot speak. Beat off the hounds, +and let no man do him harm. We will hunt no more to-day, but return to +our own place, with the wonderful quarry we have taken." + +The King turned him about, and rode to his hall, Bisclavaret following +at his side. Very near to his master the Were-Wolf went, like any dog, +and had no care to seek again the wood. When the King had brought him +safely to his own castle, he rejoiced greatly, for the beast was fair +and strong, no mightier had any man seen. Much pride had the King in +his marvellous beast. He held him so dear, that he bade all those who +wished for his love, to cross the Wolf in naught, neither to strike +him with a rod, but ever to see that he was richly fed and kennelled +warm. This commandment the Court observed willingly. So all the day +the Wolf sported with the lords, and at night he lay within the +chamber of the King. There was not a man who did not make much of the +beast, so frank was he and debonair. None had reason to do him wrong, +for ever was he about his master, and for his part did evil to none. +Every day were these two companions together, and all perceived that +the King loved him as his friend. + +Hearken now to that which chanced. + +The King held a high Court, and bade his great vassals and barons, and +all the lords of his venery to the feast. Never was there a goodlier +feast, nor one set forth with sweeter show and pomp. Amongst those who +were bidden, came that same knight who had the wife of Bisclavaret for +dame. He came to the castle, richly gowned, with a fair company, but +little he deemed whom he would find so near. Bisclavaret marked his +foe the moment he stood within the hall. He ran towards him, and +seized him with his fangs, in the King's very presence, and to the +view of all. Doubtless he would have done him much mischief, had not +the King called and chidden him, and threatened him with a rod. Once, +and twice, again, the Wolf set upon the knight in the very light of +day. All men marvelled at his malice, for sweet and serviceable was +the beast, and to that hour had shown hatred of none. With one consent +the household deemed that this deed was done with full reason, and +that the Wolf had suffered at the knight's hand some bitter wrong. +Right wary of his foe was the knight until the feast had ended, and +all the barons had taken farewell of their lord, and departed, each to +his own house. With these, amongst the very first, went that lord whom +Bisclavaret so fiercely had assailed. Small was the wonder that he was +glad to go. + +No long while after this adventure it came to pass that the courteous +King would hunt in that forest where Bisclavaret was found. With the +prince came his wolf, and a fair company. Now at nightfall the King +abode within a certain lodge of that country, and this was known of +that dame who before was the wife of Bisclavaret. In the morning the +lady clothed her in her most dainty apparel, and hastened to the +lodge, since she desired to speak with the King, and to offer him a +rich present. When the lady entered in the chamber, neither man nor +leash might restrain the fury of the Wolf. He became as a mad dog in +his hatred and malice. Breaking from his bonds he sprang at the lady's +face, and bit the nose from her visage. From every side men ran to the +succour of the dame. They beat off the wolf from his prey, and for a +little would have cut him in pieces with their swords. But a certain +wise counsellor said to the King, + +"Sire, hearken now to me. This beast is always with you, and there is +not one of us all who has not known him for long. He goes in and out +amongst us, nor has molested any man, neither done wrong or felony to +any, save only to this dame, one only time as we have seen. He has +done evil to this lady, and to that knight, who is now the husband of +the dame. Sire, she was once the wife of that lord who was so close +and private to your heart, but who went, and none might find where he +had gone. Now, therefore, put the dame in a sure place, and +question her straitly, so that she may tell--if perchance she knows +thereof--for what reason this Beast holds her in such mortal hate. For +many a strange deed has chanced, as well we know, in this marvellous +land of Brittany." + +The King listened to these words, and deemed the counsel good. He laid +hands upon the knight, and put the dame in surety in another place. He +caused them to be questioned right straitly, so that their torment was +very grievous. At the end, partly because of her distress, and partly +by reason of her exceeding fear, the lady's lips were loosed, and she +told her tale. She showed them of the betrayal of her lord, and how +his raiment was stolen from the hollow stone. Since then she knew not +where he went, nor what had befallen him, for he had never come +again to his own land. Only, in her heart, well she deemed and was +persuaded, that Bisclavaret was he. + +Straightway the King demanded the vesture of his baron, whether this +were to the wish of the lady, or whether it were against her wish. +When the raiment was brought him, he caused it to be spread before +Bisclavaret, but the Wolf made as though he had not seen. Then that +cunning and crafty counsellor took the King apart, that he might give +him a fresh rede. + +"Sire," said he, "you do not wisely, nor well, to set this raiment +before Bisclavaret, in the sight of all. In shame and much tribulation +must he lay aside the beast, and again become man. Carry your wolf +within your most secret chamber, and put his vestment therein. Then +close the door upon him, and leave him alone for a space. So we shall +see presently whether the ravening beast may indeed return to human +shape." + +The King carried the Wolf to his chamber, and shut the doors upon +him fast. He delayed for a brief while, and taking two lords of his +fellowship with him, came again to the room. Entering therein, all +three, softly together, they found the knight sleeping in the King's +bed, like a little child. The King ran swiftly to the bed and taking +his friend in his arms, embraced and kissed him fondly, above a +hundred times. When man's speech returned once more, he told him of +his adventure. Then the King restored to his friend the fief that was +stolen from him, and gave such rich gifts, moreover, as I cannot tell. +As for the wife who had betrayed Bisclavaret, he bade her avoid his +country, and chased her from the realm. So she went forth, she and her +second lord together, to seek a more abiding city, and were no more +seen. + +The adventure that you have heard is no vain fable. Verily and indeed +it chanced as I have said. The Lay of the Were-Wolf, truly, was +written that it should ever be borne in mind. + + + + +IX + + +THE LAY OF THE ASH TREE + +Now will I tell you the Lay of the Ash Tree, according to the story +that I know. + +In ancient days there dwelt two knights in Brittany, who were +neighbours and close friends. These two lords were brave and worthy +gentlemen, rich in goods and lands, and near both in heart and home. +Moreover each was wedded to a dame. One of these ladies was with +child, and when her time was come, she was delivered of two boys. Her +husband was right happy and content. For the joy that was his, he sent +messages to his neighbour, telling that his wife had brought forth two +sons, and praying that one of them might be christened with his name. +The rich man was at meat when the messenger came before him. The +servitor kneeled before the dais, and told his message in his ear. The +lord thanked God for the happiness that had befallen his friend, +and bestowed a fair horse on the bringer of good tidings. His wife, +sitting at board with her husband, heard the story of the messenger, +and smiled at his news. Proud she was, and sly, with an envious heart, +and a rancorous tongue. She made no effort to bridle her lips, but +spoke lightly before the servants of the house, and said, + +"I marvel greatly that so reputable a man as our neighbour, should +publish his dishonour to my lord. It is a shameful thing for any wife +to have two children at a birth. We all know that no woman brings +forth two at one bearing, except two husbands have aided her therein." + +Her husband looked upon her in silence for awhile, and when he spoke +it was to blame her very sternly. + +"Wife," he said, "be silent. It is better to be dumb, than to utter +such words as these. As you know well, there is not a breath to +tarnish this lady's good name." + +The folk of the house, who listened to these words, stored them in +their hearts, and told abroad the tale, spoken by their lady. Very +soon it was known throughout Brittany. Greatly was the lady blamed for +her evil tongue, and not a woman who heard thereof--whether she were +rich or poor--but who scorned her for her malice. The servant who +carried the message, on his return repeated to his lord of what he had +seen and heard. Passing heavy was the knight, and knew not what to +do. He doubted his own true wife, and suspected her the more sorely, +because she had done naught that was in any way amiss. + +The lady, who so foully slandered her fellow, fell with child in the +same year. Her neighbour was avenged upon her, for when her term was +come, she became the mother of two daughters. Sick at heart was she. +She was right sorrowful, and lamented her evil case. + +"Alas," she said, "what shall I do, for I am dishonoured for all +my days. Shamed I am, it is the simple truth. When my lord and his +kinsfolk shall hear of what has chanced, they will never believe me +a stainless wife. They will remember how I judged all women in my +plight. They will recall how I said before my house, that my neighbour +could not have been doubly a mother, unless she had first been doubly +a wife. I have the best reason now to know that I was wrong, and I am +caught in my own snare. She who digs a pit for another, cannot tell +that she may not fall into the hole herself. If you wish to speak +loudly concerning your neighbour, it is best to say nothing of him +but in praise. The only way to keep me from shame, is that one of my +children should die. It is a great sin; but I would rather trust to +the mercy of God, than suffer scorn and reproach for the rest of my +life." + +The women about her comforted her as best they might in this trouble. +They told her frankly that they would not suffer such wrong to be +done, since the slaying of a child was not reckoned a jest. The lady +had a maiden near her person, whom she had long held and nourished. +The damsel was a freeman's daughter, and was greatly loved and +cherished of her mistress. When she saw the lady's tears, and heard +the bitterness of her complaint, anguish went to her heart, like a +knife. She stooped over her lady, striving to bring her comfort. + +"Lady," she said, "take it not so to heart. Give over this grief, for +all will yet be well. You shall deliver me one of these children, and +I will put her so far from you, that you shall never see her again, +nor know shame because of her. I will carry her safe and sound to the +door of a church. There I will lay her down. Some honest man shall +find her, and--please God--will be at the cost of her nourishing." + +Great joy had the lady to hear these words. She promised the maiden +that in recompense of her service, she would grant her such guerdon +as she should wish. The maiden took the babe--yet smiling in her +sleep--and wrapped her in a linen cloth. Above this she set a piece of +sanguine silk, brought by the husband of this dame from a bazaar in +Constantinople--fairer was never seen. With a silken lace they bound +a great ring to the child's arm. This ring was of fine gold, weighing +fully an ounce, and was set with garnets most precious. + +Letters were graven thereon, so that those who found the maid might +understand that she came of a good house. The damsel took the child, +and went out from the chamber. When night was come, and all was still, +she left the town, and sought the high road leading through the +forest. She held on her way, clasping the baby to her breast, till +from afar, to her right hand, she heard the howling of dogs and the +crowing of cocks. She deemed that she was near a town, and went the +lighter for the hope, directing her steps, there, whence the noises +came. Presently the damsel entered in a fair city, where was an Abbey, +both great and rich. This Abbey was worshipfully ordered, with many +nuns in their office and degree, and an Abbess in charge of all. The +maiden gazed upon the mighty house, and considered its towers and +walls, and the church with its belfry. She went swiftly to the door, +and setting the child upon the ground, kneeled humbly to make her +prayer. + +"Lord," said she, "for the sake of Thy Holy Name, if such be Thy will, +preserve this child from death." + +Her petition ended, the maiden looked about her, and saw an ash tree, +planted to give shadow in a sunny place. It was a fair tree, thick and +leafy, and was divided into four strong branches. The maiden took the +child again in her arms, and running to the ash, set her within the +tree. There she left her, commending her to the care of God. So she +returned to her mistress, and told her all that she had done. + +Now in this Abbey was a porter, whose duty it was to open the doors of +the church, before folk came to hear the service of God. This night +he rose at his accustomed hour, lighted candles and lamps, rang the +bells, and set wide the doors. His eyes fell upon the silken stuff +within the ash. He thought at first that some bold thief had hidden +his spoil within the tree. He felt with his hand to discover what it +might be, and found that it was a little child. The porter praised +God for His goodness; he took the babe, and going again to his house, +called to his daughter, who was a widow, with an infant yet in the +cradle. + +"Daughter," he cried, "get from bed at once; light your candle, and +kindle the fire. I bring you a little child, whom I have found within +our ash. Take her to your breast; cherish her against the cold, and +bathe her in warm water." + +The widow did according to her father's will. She kindled a fire, and +taking the babe, washed and cherished her in her need. Very certain +she was, when she saw that rich stuff of crimson samite, and the +golden ring about the arm, that the girl was come of an honourable +race. The next day, when the office was ended, the porter prayed the +Abbess that he might have speech with her as she left the church. He +related his story, and told of the finding of the child. The Abbess +bade him to fetch the child, dressed in such fashion as she was +discovered in the ash. The porter returned to his house, and showed +the babe right gladly to his dame. The Abbess observed the infant +closely, and said that she would be at the cost of her nourishing, +and would cherish her as a sister's child. She commanded the porter +strictly to forget that he took her from the ash. In this manner it +chanced that the maiden was tended of the Abbess. The lady considered +the maid as her niece, and since she was taken from the ash, gave her +the name of Frêne. By this name she was known of all, within the Abbey +precincts, where she was nourished. + +When Frêne came to that age in which a girl turns to woman, there was +no fairer maiden in Brittany, nor so sweet a damsel. Frank, she was, +and open, but discreet in semblance and in speech. To see her was to +love her, and to prize her smile above the beauty of the world. Now at +Dol there lived a lord of whom much good was spoken. I will tell you +his name. The folk of his country called him Buron. This lord heard +speak of the maiden, and began to love her, for the sweetness men +told of her. As he rode home from some tournament, he passed near the +convent, and prayed the Abbess that he might look upon her niece. The +Abbess gave him his desire. Greatly was the maiden to his mind. +Very fair he found her, sweetly schooled and fashioned, modest and +courteous to all. If he might not win her to his love, he counted +himself the more forlorn. This lord was at his wits end, for he knew +not what to do. If he repaired often to the convent, the Abbess would +consider of the cause of his comings, and he would never again see the +maiden with his eyes. One thing only gave him a little hope. Should he +endow the Abbey of his wealth, he would make it his debtor for ever. +In return he might ask a little room, where he might abide to have +their fellowship, and, at times, withdraw him from the world. This he +did. He gave richly of his goods to the Abbey. Often, in return, he +went to the convent, but for other reasons than for penitence and +peace. He besought the maiden, and with prayers and promises, +persuaded her to set upon him her love. When this lord was assured +that she loved him, on a certain day he reasoned with her in this +manner. + +"Fair friend," said he, "since you have given me your love, come with +me, where I can cherish you before all the world. You know, as well +as I, that if your aunt should perceive our friendship, she would be +passing wrath, and grieve beyond measure. If my counsel seems good, +let us flee together, you with me, and I with you. Certes, you shall +never have cause to regret your trust, and of my riches you shall have +the half." + +When she who loved so fondly heard these words, she granted of her +tenderness what it pleased him to have, and followed after where he +would. Frêne fled to her lover's castle, carrying with her that silken +cloth and ring, which might do her service on a day. These the Abbess +had given her again, telling her how one morning at prime she was +found upon an ash, this ring and samite her only wealth, since she was +not her niece. Right carefully had Frêne guarded her treasure from +that hour. She shut them closely in a little chest, and this coffret +she bore with her in her flight, for she would neither lose them nor +forget. + +The lord, with whom the maiden fled, loved and cherished her very +dearly. Of all the men and servants of his house, there was not +one--either great or small--but who loved and honoured her for her +simplicity. They lived long together in love and content, till the +fair days passed, and trouble came upon this lord. The knights of his +realm drew together, and many a time urged that he should put away his +friend, and wed with some rich gentlewoman. They would be joyous if a +son were born, to come after to his fief and heritage. The peril was +too great to suffer that he remained a bachelor, and without an heir. +Never more would they hold him as lord, or serve him with a good +heart, if he would not do according to their will. + +There being naught else to do, the lord deferred to this counsel of +his knights, and begged them to name the lady whom he needs must wed. + +"Sir," answered they, "there is a lord of these parts, privy to our +counsel, who has but one child, a maid, his only heir. Broad lands +will he give as her dowry. This damsel's name is Coudre, and in all +this country there is none so fair. Be advised: throw away the ash rod +you carry, and take the hazel as your staff.[1] The ash is a barren +stock; but the hazel is thick with nuts and delight. We shall be +content if you take this maiden as your wife, so it be to the will of +God, and she be given you of her kinsfolk." + +Buron demanded the hand of the lady in marriage, and her father and +kin betrothed her to the lord. Alas! it was hid from all, that these +two were twin sisters. It was Frêne's lot to be doubly abandoned, and +to see her lover become her sister's husband. When she learned that +her friend purposed taking to himself a wife, she made no outcry +against his falseness. She continued to serve her lord faithfully, and +was diligent in the business of his house. The sergeant and the varlet +were marvellously wrathful, when they knew that she must go from +amongst them. On the day appointed for the marriage, Buron bade his +friends and acquaintance to the feast. Together with these came +the Archbishop, and those of Dol who held of him their lands. His +betrothed was brought to his home by her mother. Great dread had the +mother because of Frêne, for she knew of the love that the lord bore +the maiden, and feared lest her daughter should be a stranger in her +own hall. She spoke to her son-in-law, counselling him to send Frêne +from his house, and to find her an honest man for her husband. Thus +there would be quittance between them. Very splendid was the feast. +Whilst all was mirth and jollity, the damsel visited the chambers, to +see that each was ordered to her lord's pleasure. She hid the torment +in her heart, and seemed neither troubled nor downcast. She compassed +the bride with every fair observance, and waited upon her right +daintily. + +[Footnote 1: This is a play on words; Frêne in the French, meaning +ash, and Coudre meaning hazel.] + +Her courage was marvellous to that company of lords and ladies, who +observed her curiously. The mother of the bride regarded her also, and +praised her privily. She said aloud that had she known the sweetness +of this lady, she would not have taken her lover from her, nor spoiled +her life for the sake of the bride. The night being come the damsel +entered in the bridal chamber to deck the bed against her lord. She +put off her mantle, and calling the chamberlains, showed them how +their master loved to lie. His bed being softly arrayed, a coverlet +was spread upon the linen sheets. Frêne looked upon the coverlet: +in her eyes it showed too mean a garnishing for so fair a lord. +She turned it over in her mind, and going to her coffret she took +therefrom that rich stuff of sanguine silk, and set it on the couch. +This she did not only in honour of her friend, but that the Archbishop +might not despise the house, when he blessed the marriage bed, +according to the rite. When all was ready the mother carried the bride +to that chamber where she should lie, to disarray her for the night. +Looking upon the bed she marked the silken coverlet, for she had never +seen so rich a cloth, save only that in which she wrapped her child. +When she remembered of this thing, her heart turned to water. She +summoned a chamberlain. + +"Tell me," she said, "tell me in good faith where this garniture was +found." + +"Lady," he made reply, "that you shall know. Our damsel spread it on +the bed, because this dossal is richer than the coverlet that was +there before." + +The lady called for the damsel. Frêne came before her in haste, being +yet without her mantle. All the mother moved within her, as she plied +her with questions. + +"Fair friend, hide it not a whit from me. Tell me truly where this +fair samite was found; whence came it; who gave it to you? Answer +swiftly, and tell me who bestowed on you this cloth?" + +The damsel made answer to her: + +"Lady, my aunt, the Abbess, gave me this silken stuff, and charged me +to keep it carefully. At the same time she gave me a ring, which those +who put me forth, had bound upon me." + +"Fair friend, may I see this ring?" + +"Certes, lady, I shall be pleased to show it." + +The lady looked closely on the ring, when it was brought. She knew +again her own, and the crimson samite flung upon the bed. No doubt was +in her mind. She knew and was persuaded that Frêne was her very child. +All words were spoken, and there was nothing more to hide. + +"Thou art my daughter, fair friend." + +Then for reason of the pity that was hers, she fell to the ground, and +lay in a swoon. When the lady came again to herself, she sent for her +husband, who, all adread, hastened to the chamber. He marvelled the +more sorely when his wife fell at his feet, and embracing him closely, +entreated pardon for the evil that she had done. + +Knowing nothing of her trespass, he made reply, "Wife, what is this? +Between you and me there is nothing to call for forgiveness. Pardon +you may have for whatever fault you please. Tell me plainly what is +your wish." + +"Husband, my offence is so black, that you had better give me +absolution before I tell you the sin. A long time ago, by reason of +lightness and malice, I spoke evil of my neighbour, whenas she bore +two sons at a birth. I fell afterwards into the very pit that I had +digged. Though I told you that I was delivered of a daughter, the +truth is that I had borne two maids. One of these I wrapped in our +stuff of samite, together with the ring you gave me the first time we +met, and caused her to be laid beside a church. Such a sin will out. +The cloth and the ring I have found, and I have recognised our maid, +whom I had lost by my own folly. She is this very damsel--so fair and +amiable to all--whom the knight so greatly loved. Now we have married +the lord to her sister." + +The husband made answer, "Wife, if your sin be double, our joy is +manifold. Very tenderly hath God dealt with us, in giving us back our +child. I am altogether joyous and content to have two daughters for +one. Daughter, come to your father's side." + +The damsel rejoiced greatly to hear this story. Her father tarried no +longer, but seeking his son-in-law, brought him to the Archbishop, and +related the adventure. The knight knew such joy as was never yet. The +Archbishop gave counsel that on the morrow he would part him and her +whom he had joined together. This was done, for in the morning he +severed them, bed and board. Afterwards he married Frêne to her +friend, and her father accorded the damsel with a right good heart. +Her mother and sister were with her at the wedding, and for dowry her +father gave her the half of his heritage. When they returned to their +own realm they took Coudre, their daughter, with them. There she was +granted to a lord of those parts, and rich was the feast. + +When this adventure was bruited abroad, and all the story, the Lay of +the Ash Tree was written, so called of the lady, named Frêne. + + + + +X + + +THE LAY OF THE HONEYSUCKLE + +With a glad heart and right good mind will I tell the Lay that men +call Honeysuckle; and that the truth may be known of all it shall be +told as many a minstrel has sung it to my ear, and as the scribe hath +written it for our delight. It is of Tristan and Isoude, the Queen. +It is of a love which passed all other love, of love from whence came +wondrous sorrow, and whereof they died together in the self-same day. + +King Mark was sorely wrath with Tristan, his sister's son, and bade +him avoid his realm, by reason of the love he bore the Queen. So +Tristan repaired to his own land, and dwelt for a full year in South +Wales, where he was born. Then since he might not come where he would +be, Tristan took no heed to his ways, but let his life run waste to +Death. Marvel not overmuch thereat, for he who loves beyond measure +must ever be sick in heart and hope, when he may not win according +to his wish. So sick in heart and mind was Tristan that he left his +kingdom, and returned straight to the realm of his banishment, because +that in Cornwall dwelt the Queen. There he hid privily in the deep +forest, withdrawn from the eyes of men; only when the evening was +come, and all things sought their rest, he prayed the peasant and +other mean folk of that country, of their charity to grant him shelter +for the night. From the serf he gathered tidings of the King. These +gave again to him what they, in turn, had taken from some outlawed +knight. Thus Tristan learned that when Pentecost was come King Mark +purposed to hold high Court at Tintagel, and keep the feast with pomp +and revelry; moreover that thither would ride Isoude, the Queen. + +When Tristan heard this thing he rejoiced greatly, since the Queen +might not adventure through the forest, except he saw her with his +eyes. After the King had gone his way, Tristan entered within the +wood, and sought the path by which the Queen must come. There he cut a +wand from out a certain hazel-tree, and having trimmed and peeled it +of its bark, with his dagger he carved his name upon the wood. This he +placed upon her road, for well he knew that should the Queen but mark +his name she would bethink her of her friend. Thus had it chanced +before. For this was the sum of the writing set upon the wand, for +Queen Isoude's heart alone: how that in this wild place Tristan had +lurked and waited long, so that he might look upon her face, since +without her he was already dead. Was it not with them as with the +Honeysuckle and the Hazel tree she was passing by! So sweetly laced +and taken were they in one close embrace, that thus they might remain +whilst life endured. But should rough hands part so fond a clasping, +the hazel would wither at the root, and the honeysuckle must fail. +Fair friend, thus is the case with us, nor you without me, nor I +without you. + +Now the Queen fared at adventure down the forest path. She spied the +hazel wand set upon her road, and well she remembered the letters +and the name. She bade the knights of her company to draw rein, and +dismount from their palfreys, so that they might refresh themselves a +little. When her commandment was done she withdrew from them a space, +and called to her Brangwaine, her maiden, and own familiar friend. +Then she hastened within the wood, to come on him whom more she loved +than any living soul. How great the joy between these twain, that once +more they might speak together softly, face to face. Isoude showed him +her delight. She showed in what fashion she strove to bring peace +and concord betwixt Tristan and the King, and how grievously his +banishment had weighed upon her heart. Thus sped the hour, till it +was time for them to part; but when these lovers freed them from +the other's arms, the tears were wet upon their cheeks. So Tristan +returned to Wales, his own realm, even as his uncle bade. But for the +joy that he had had of her, his friend, for her sweet face, and for +the tender words that she had spoken, yea, and for that writing upon +the wand, to remember all these things, Tristan, that cunning harper, +wrought a new Lay, as shortly I have told you. Goatleaf, men call this +song in English. Chèvrefeuille it is named in French; but Goatleaf +or Honeysuckle, here you have the very truth in the Lay that I have +spoken. + + + + +XI + + +THE LAY OF EQUITAN + +In ancient days many a noble lord lived in Brittany beyond the Seas. +By reason of their courtesy and nobleness they would gladly keep +in remembrance the deeds that were done in the land. That these +marvellous things should not be forgotten they fashioned them into +Lays. Amongst these Lays I have heard tell of one which is not made to +die as though it had never been. + +Equitan, lord of Nantes, was a loyal and courteous gentleman, of great +worth, beloved by all in his own country. He was set on pleasure, and +was Love's lover, as became a gentle knight. Like many others who dote +on woman, he observed neither sense nor measure in love. But it is in +the very nature of Love that proportion cannot enter into the matter. + +Equitan had for seneschal a right brave and loyal knight, who was +captain of his army, and did justice in his realm. He was often abroad +upon his master's business, for the King would not forego his delight +for any reason whatever. To dance, to hunt, to fish within the +river--this was all his joy. This seneschal was married to a wife, +by whom great evil came upon the land. Very desirable was the lady; +passing tender of body, and sweet of vesture, coiffed and fretted with +gold. Her eyes were blue; her face warmly coloured, with a fragrant +mouth, and a dainty nose. Certainly she had no peer in all the realm. +The King had heard much in praise of this lady and many a time +saluted her upon the way. He had also sent her divers gifts. Often he +considered in his mind how best he might get speech with the dame. For +his privy pleasure this amorous King went to chase in that country +where the seneschal had his castle. The lady being in her own house, +Equitan craved a lodging for the night. By this means when the hunt +was done, he could speak with her, and show what was in his heart. +Equitan found the lady as discreet as courteous. He looked closely +upon her, for she was fair of face and person, and sweet of semblance +and address. Love bound him captive to his car. The god loosed a shaft +which entered deeply in his breast. The arrow pierced to his heart, +and from thenceforth he cared nothing for measure, or kingship, or +delight. Equitan was so surprised of the lady, that he remained silent +and pensive. He heard nothing, and nothing he could do. All night he +lay in unrest upon the bed, reproaching himself for what had come to +pass. + +"Alas," said he, "what evil fate has led me into this land! The sight +only of this lady has put such anguish into my heart that my members +fail beneath me. It is Love, I deem, who rides me thus cruelly. But +if I love this lady I shall do a great wrong. She is the wife of my +seneschal, and it is my duty to keep the same love and faith to him as +I would wish him to observe with me. If by any means I could know what +is in her mind, I should be the easier, for torment is doubled that +you bear alone. There is not a dame, however curst, but would rather +love than not; for if she were a contemner of love where would be her +courtesy? But if she loves, there is not a woman under the sky who +would not suck thereout all the advantage that she may. If the matter +came to the ears of the seneschal, he ought not to think too hardly +of me. He cannot hope to keep such treasure for himself alone; and, +certes, I shall claim my portion." + +Equitan tossed on his bed, and sighed. His thoughts were still on the +lady, so that in a little he said, "I think of the ford, before I come +to the river. I go too quickly, for I know not yet whether the lady +will take me as her friend. But know I will as swiftly as I can, since +I cannot get rest or sleep. I will come before her as soon as it is +day, and if she feels as I feel, the sooner I shall be rid of my +pain." + +The King kept vigil till the daylight came at last. He arose and went +forth, as if to the chase. He returned presently, telling that he +was sick, and going straight to his chamber, lay upon his bed. The +seneschal was very troubled, for he could not imagine the sickness of +which his master felt the pangs. He counselled his wife to seek their +guest, that she might cheer and comfort him in his trouble. When they +were alone the King opened to her his heart. He told her that he was +dying for her love, and that if she had no more than friendship to +offer, he preferred death before life. + +"Sire," replied the dame, "I require a little time to think of what +you say, for I cannot answer yes or no, without thought, in a business +of this moment. I am not of your wealth, and you are too high a lord, +for your love to do more than rest lightly on me. When you have had +your desire, it will as lightly fly away. My sorrow would be overlong, +if I should love you, and grant you what you wish. It is much the +best that between you and me love should not be spoken of. You are +a puissant prince; my husband is one of your vassals, and faith and +trust should bind us--not the dangerous bond of love. Love is only +lasting between like and like. Better is the love of an honest man--so +he be of sense and worth--than that of a prince or king, with no +loyalty in him. She who sets her love more highly than she can reach, +may pluck no fruit from the tree. The rich man deems that love is his +of right. He prays little of his friend, for he thinks none dare +take her from his hand, and that her tenderness is his by prize of +lordship." + +When she had ceased, Equitan made answer, "Lady, I can offer you but +short thanks for your words, since they savour of scant courtesy. You +speak of love as a burgess makes a bargain. Those who desire to get, +rather than to give, often find that they have the worser half of the +business. There is no lady under heaven--so she be courteous and kind +and of a good heart--but would grant her grace to a true lover, even +though she have beneath her cloak only a rich prince in his castle. +Those who care but for a fresh face--tricksters in love as a cozener +with dice--are justly flouted and deceived, as oftentimes we see. None +wastes pity on him who receives the stripes he deserves. Dear lady, +let me make myself plain. Do not regard me as your King; look on me as +your servant and your friend. I give my word and plight my troth that +all my happiness shall be found in your pleasure. Let me not die for +your love. You shall be the Dame, and I the page; you shall be the +scornful beauty, and I the prayer at your knee." + +The King prayed the lady so urgently, so tenderly he sued for grace, +that at the last she assured him of her love, and gave him the gift +of her heart. They granted rings one to another, and pledged affiance +between them. They kept this faith, and guarded this love, till they +died together, and there was an end to all. + +Equitan and the lady loved for a great while without it coming to the +ears of any. When the King desired to have speech of his friend, +he told his household that he would be alone, since it was the day +appointed for his bleeding. The King having shut the doors of his +chamber, there was none so bold as to enter therein, save he were +bidden of his lord. Whilst he was busied in this fashion, the +seneschal sat in open court to hear the pleas and right the wrong. He +was as much to the King's mind, as his wife was to the King's heart. +The lord was so assotted upon the lady that he would neither take +to himself a wife, nor listen to a word upon the matter. His people +blamed him loudly, so loudly that it came to the ears of the lady. She +was passing heavy, for she feared greatly that the barons would have +their way. When next she had speech with Equitan, in place of the kiss +and sweetness of her customary greeting, she came before him making +great sorrow and in tears. The King inquiring the reason of her +dolour, the lady replied, "Sire, I lament our love, and the trouble I +always said would be mine. You are about to wed the daughter of some +King, and my good days are over. Everybody says so, and I know it to +be true. What will become of me when you put me away! I will die, +rather than lose you, for I may have no other comfort." + +The King made answer very tenderly, "Fair friend, you need not fear. +There will never be wife of mine to put you from me. I shall never +wed, except your husband die, and then it is you who would be my queen +and lady. I will leave you for no other dame." + +The lady thanked him sweetly for his words. Much was she beholden to +him in her heart. Since she was assured that he would not leave her +for any other, she turned over swiftly in her mind the profit that +would come from her husband's death. Much happiness might be bought at +a little cost, if Equitan would lend his aid. + +The King made answer that he would do her will to the utmost of his +power, whether her counsel were for good or evil. + +"Sire," said the lady, "let it please you to hunt the forest within +the country where I dwell. You can lodge in my lord's castle, and +there you must be bled. Three days after your surgery is done, you +must call for your bath. My lord shall be bled with you, so that he +may go to his bathing at the same time. It will be your part to keep +him at your side, and make him your constant companion. It will be +mine to heat the water, and to carry the baths to your chamber. My +husband's bath shall boil so fiercely, that no breathing man, having +entered therein, may come forth living. When he is dead you must call +for your people, and show them how the seneschal has died suddenly in +his bath." + +Because of his love the King granted her desire, and promised to do +according to her will. Before three months were done the King rode to +the chase within the lady's realm. He caused surgeons to bleed him for +his health, and the seneschal with him. He said that he would take his +bath on the third day, and the seneschal required his, too, to be made +ready. The lady caused the water to be heated, and carried the baths +to the chamber. According to her device she set a bath beside each +bed, filling with boiling water that bath which her lord should enter. +Her lord had gone forth for a little, so for a space the King and the +lady were alone. They sat on the husband's bed, and looked tenderly +each on the other, near by that heated bath. The door of the chamber +was kept by a young damsel to give them warning. The seneschal made +haste to return, and would have struck on the door of the chamber, but +was stayed by the maiden. He put her by, and in his impatience flung +the door wide open. Entering he found his master and his wife clasped +in each other's arms. When the King saw the seneschal he had no +thought but to hide his dishonour. He started up, and sprang with +joined feet in the bath that was filled with boiling water. There he +perished miserably, in the very snare he had spread for another, who +was safe and sound. The seneschal marked what had happened to the +King. In his rage he turned to his wife, and laying hands upon her +thrust her, head first, in the self-same bath. So they died together, +the King first, and the lady afterwards, with him. + +Those who are willing to listen to fair words, may learn from this +ensample, that he who seeks another's ill often brings the evil upon +himself. + +As I have told you before, of this adventure the Bretons made the Lay +of Equitan, the lady whom he loved, and of their end. + + + + +XII + + +THE LAY OF MILON + +He who would tell divers tales must know how to vary the tune. To +win the favour of any, he must speak to the understanding of all. I +purpose in this place to show you the story of Milon, and--since few +words are best--I will set out the adventure as briefly as I may. + +Milon was born in South Wales. So great was his prowess that from the +day he was dubbed knight there was no champion who could stand before +him in the lists. He was a passing fair knight, open and brave, +courteous to his friends, and stern to his foes. Men praised his name +in whatever realm they talked of gallant deeds--Ireland, Norway, and +Wales, yea, from Jutland even to Albania. Since he was praised by the +frank, he was therefore envied of the mean. Nevertheless, by reason of +his skill with the spear, he was counted a very worshipful knight, and +was honourably entreated by many a prince in divers lands. + +In Milon's own realm there lived a lord whose name has gone from +mind. With this baron dwelt his daughter, a passing fair and gracious +damsel. Much talk had this maiden heard of Milon's knightly deeds, so +that she began to set her thoughts upon him, because of the good men +spoke of him. She sent him a message by a sure hand, saying that if +her love was to his mind, sweetly would it be to her heart. Milon +rejoiced greatly when he knew this thing. He thanked the lady for her +words, giving her love again in return for her own, and swearing that +he would never depart therefrom any day of his days. Beyond this +courteous answer Milon bestowed on the messenger costly gifts, and +made him promises that were richer still. + +"Friend," said he, "of your charity I pray you that I may have speech +with my friend, in such a fashion that none shall know of our meeting. +Carry her this, my golden ring. Tell her, on my part, that so she +pleases she shall come to me, or, if it be her better pleasure, I will +go to her." + +The messenger bade farewell, and returned to his lady. He placed the +ring in her hand, saying that he had done her will, as he was bidden +to do. + +Right joyous was the damsel to know that Milon's love was tender as +her own. She required her friend to come for speech within the private +garden of her house, where she was wont to take her delight. Milon +came at her commandment. He came so often, and so dearly she loved +him, that in the end she gave him all that maid may give. When the +damsel perceived how it was with her, she sent messages to her friend, +telling him of her case, and making great sorrow. + +"I have lost my father and all his wealth," said the lady, "for when +he hears of this matter he will make of me an example. Either I shall +be tormented with the sword, or else he will sell me as a slave in a +far country." + +(For such was the usage of our fathers in the days of this tale). + +Milon grieved sorely, and made answer that he would do the thing the +damsel thought most seemly to be done. + +"When the child is born," replied the lady, "you must carry him +forthwith to my sister. She is a rich dame, pitiful and good, and is +wedded to a lord of Northumberland. You will send messages with the +babe--both in writing and by speech--that the little innocent is her +sister's child. Whether it be a boy or girl his mother will have +suffered much because of him, and for her sister's sake you will pray +her to cherish the babe. Beyond this I shall set your signet by a lace +about his neck, and write letters wherein shall be made plain the name +of his sire, and the sad story of his mother. When he shall have grown +tall, and of an age to understand these matters, his aunt will give +him your ring, and rehearse to him the letter. If this be done, +perchance the orphan will not be fatherless all his days." + +Milon approved the counsel of the lady, and when her time had come she +was brought to bed of a boy. The old nurse who tended her mistress +was privy to the damsel's inmost mind. So warily she went to work, so +cunning was she in gloss and concealment, that none within the palace +knew that there was aught to hide. The damsel looked upon her boy, and +saw that he was very fair. She laced the ring about his neck, and set +the letter that it were death to find, within a silken chatelaine. The +child was then placed in his cradle, swathed close in white linen. A +pillow of feathers was put beneath his head, and over all was laid a +warm coverlet, wadded with fur. In this fashion the ancient nurse +gave the babe to his father, who awaited him within the garden. Milon +commended the child to his men, charging them to carry him loyally, by +such towns as they knew, to that lady beyond the Humber. The servitors +set forth, bearing the infant with them. Seven times a day they +reposed them in their journey, so that the women might nourish +the babe, and bathe and tend him duly. They served their lord so +faithfully, keeping such watch upon the way, that at the last they +won to the lady to whom they were bidden. The lady received them +courteously, as became her breeding. She broke the seal of the letter, +and when she was assured of what was therein, marvellously she +cherished the infant. These having bestowed the boy in accordance with +their lord's commandment, returned to their own land. + +Milon went forth from his realm to serve beyond the seas for guerdon. +His friend remained within her house and was granted by her father in +marriage to a right rich baron of that country. Though this baron was +a worthy knight, justly esteemed of all his fellows, the damsel was +grieved beyond measure when she knew her father's will. She called to +mind the past, and regretted that Milon had gone from the country, +since he would have helped her in her need. + +"Alas!" said the lady, "what shall I do? I doubt that I am lost, for +my lord will find that his bride is not a maid. If this becomes known +they will make me a bondwoman for all my days. Would that my friend +were here to free me from this coil. It were good for me to die rather +than to live, but by no means can I escape from their hands. They +have set warders about me, men, old and young, whom they call my +chamberlains, contemners of love, who delight themselves in sadness. +But endure it I must, for, alas, I know not how to die." + +So on the appointed day the lady was wedded to the baron, and her +husband took her to dwell with him in his fief. + +When Milon returned to his own country he was right heavy and +sorrowful to learn of this marriage. He lamented his wretched case, +but in this he found comfort, that he was not far from the realm where +the lady abode whom so tenderly he loved. Milon commenced to think +within himself how best he might send letters to the damsel that he +was come again to his home, yet so that none should have knowledge +thereof. He wrote a letter, and sealed it with his seal. This message +he made fast to the neck, and hid within the plumage of a swan that +was long his, and was greatly to his heart. He bade his squire to +come, and made him his messenger. + +"Change thy raiment swiftly," said he, "and hasten to the castle of my +friend. Take with thee my swan, and see that none, neither servant nor +handmaid, delivers the bird to my lady, save thyself alone." + +The squire did according to his lord's commandment. He made him ready +quickly, and went forth, bearing the swan with him. He went by the +nearest road, and passing through the streets of the city, came before +the portal of the castle. In answer to his summons the porter drew +near. + +"Friend," said he, "hearken to me. I am of Caerleon, and a fowler by +craft. Within my nets I have snared the most marvellous swan in the +world. This wondrous bird I would bestow forthwith upon your lady, but +perforce I must offer her the gift with my own hand." + +"Friend," replied the porter, "fowlers are not always welcomed of +ladies. If you come with me I will bring you where I may know whether +it pleases my lady to have speech with you and to receive your gift." + +The porter entered in the hall, where he found none but two lords +seated at a great table, playing chess for their delight. He swiftly +returned on his steps, and the fowler with him, so furtively withal +that the lords were not disturbed at their game, nor perceived aught +of the matter. They went therefore to the chamber of the lady. In +answer to their call the door was opened to them by a maiden, who +led them before her dame. When the swan was proffered to the lady +it pleased her to receive the gift. She summoned a varlet of her +household and gave the bird to his charge, commanding him to keep it +safely, and to see that it ate enough and to spare. + +"Lady," said the servitor, "I will do your bidding. We shall never +receive from any fowler on earth such another bird as this. The swan +is fit to serve at a royal table, for the bird is plump as he is +fair." + +The varlet put the swan in his lady's hands. She took the bird kindly, +and smoothing his head and neck, felt the letter that was hidden +beneath its feathers. The blood pricked in her veins, for well she +knew that the writing was sent her by her friend. She caused the +fowler to be given of her bounty, and bade the men to go forth from +her chamber. When they had parted the lady called a maiden to her aid. +She broke the seal, and unfastening the letter, came upon the name of +Milon at the head. She kissed the name a hundred times through her +tears. When she might read the writing she learned of the great pain +and dolour that her lover suffered by day and by night. In you--he +wrote--is all my pleasure, and in your white hands it lies to heal me +or to slay. Strive to find a plan by which we may speak as friend to +friend, if you would have me live. The knight prayed her in his letter +to send him an answer by means of the swan. If the bird were well +guarded, and kept without provand for three days, he would of a surety +fly back to the place from whence he came, with any message that the +lady might lace about his neck. + +When the damsel had considered the writing, and understood what was +put therein, she commanded that her bird should be tended carefully, +and given plenteously to eat and to drink. She held him for a month +within her chamber, but this was less from choice, than for the craft +that was necessary to obtain the ink and parchment requisite for her +writing. At the end she wrote a letter according to her heart, and +sealed it with her ring. The lady caused the swan to fast for three +full days; then having concealed the message about his neck, let him +take his flight. The bird was all anhungered for food, and remembering +well the home from which he drew, he returned thither as quickly as +his wings might bear him. + +He knew again his town, and his master's house, and descended to the +ground at Milon's very feet. Milon rejoiced greatly when he marked his +own. He caught the bird by his wings, and crying for his steward, bade +him give the swan to eat. The knight removed the missive from the +messenger's neck. He glanced from head to head of the letter, seeking +the means that he hoped to find, and the salutation he so tenderly +wished. Sweet to his heart was the writing, for the lady wrote that +without him there was no joy in her life, and since it was his desire +to hear by the swan, it would be her pleasure also. + +For twenty years the swan was made the messenger of these two lovers, +who might never win together. There was no speech between them, save +that carried by the bird. They caused the swan to fast for three days, +and then sent him on his errand. He to whom the letter came, saw to +it that the messenger was fed to heart's desire. Many a time the swan +went upon his journey, for however strictly the lady was held of her +husband, there was none who had suspicion of a bird. + +The dame beyond the Humber nourished and tended the boy committed to +her charge with the greatest care. When he was come to a fitting age +she made him to be knighted of her lord, for goodly and serviceable +was the lad. On the same day the aunt read over to him the letter, and +put in his hand the ring. She told him the name of his mother, and his +father's story. In all the world there was no worthier knight, nor a +more chivalrous and gallant gentleman. The lad hearkened diligently to +the lady's tale. He rejoiced greatly to hear of his father's prowess, +and was proud beyond measure of his renown. He considered within +himself, saying to his own heart, that much should be required of his +father's son, and that he would not be worthy of his blood if he did +not endeavour to merit his name. He determined therefore that he would +leave his country, and seek adventure as a knight errant, beyond the +sea. The varlet delayed no longer than the evening. On the morrow he +bade farewell to his aunt, who having warned and admonished him for +his good, gave him largely of her wealth, to bring him on his way. He +rode to Southampton, that he might find a ship equipped for sea, and +so came to Barfleur. Without any tarrying the lad went straight to +Brittany, where he spent his money and himself in feasts and in +tourneys. The rich men of the land were glad of his friendship, for +there was none who bore himself better in the press with spear or with +sword. What he took from the rich he bestowed on such knights as were +poor and luckless. These loved him greatly, since he gained largely +and spent freely, granting of his wealth to all. Wherever this knight +sojourned in the realm he bore away the prize. So debonair was he and +chivalrous that his fame and praise crossed the water, and were noised +abroad in his own land. Folk told how a certain knight from beyond the +Humber, who had passed the sea in quest of wealth and honour, had so +done, that by reason of his prowess, his liberality, and his modesty, +men called him the Knight Peerless, since they did not know his name. + +This praise of the good knight, and of his deeds, came to be heard of +Milon. Very dolent was he and sorely troubled that so young a knight +should be esteemed above his fathers. He marvelled greatly that the +stout spears of the past had not put on their harness and broken a +lance for their ancient honour. One thing he determined, that he +would cross the sea without delay, so that he might joust with the +dansellon, and abate his pride. In wrath and anger he purposed to +fight, to beat his adversary from the saddle, and bring him at last +to shame. After this was ended he would seek his son, of whom he had +heard nothing, since he had gone from his aunt's castle. Milon caused +his friend to know of his wishes. He opened out to her all his +thought, and craved her permission to depart. This letter he sent by +the swan, commending the bird to her care. + +When the lady heard of her lover's purpose, she thanked him for his +courtesy, for greatly was his counsel to her mind. She approved his +desire to quit the realm for the sake of his honour, and far from +putting let and hindrance in his path, trusted that in the end he +would bring again her son. Since Milon was assured of his friend's +goodwill, he arrayed himself richly, and crossing the sea to Normandy, +came afterwards into the land of the Bretons. There he sought +the friendship of the lords of that realm, and fared to all the +tournaments of which he might hear. Milon bore himself proudly, and +gave graciously of his wealth, as though he were receiving a gift. +He sojourned till the winter was past in that land, he, and a brave +company of knights whom he held in his house with him. When Easter +had come, and the season that men give to tourneys and wars and the +righting of their private wrongs, Milon considered how he could meet +with the knight whom men called Peerless. At that time a tournament +was proclaimed to be held at Mont St. Michel. Many a Norman and Breton +rode to the game; knights of Flanders and of France were there in +plenty, but few fared from England. Milon drew to the lists amongst +the first. He inquired diligently of the young champion, and all men +were ready to tell from whence he came, and of his harness, and of the +blazon on his shield. At length the knight appeared in the lists and +Milon looked upon the adversary he so greatly desired to see. Now in +this tournament a knight could joust with that lord who was set over +against him, or he could seek to break a lance with his chosen foe. A +player must gain or lose, and he might find himself opposed either +by his comrade or his enemy. Milon did well and worshipfully in the +press, and was praised of many that day. But the Knight Peerless +carried the cry from all his fellows, for none might stand before him, +nor rival him in skill and address. Milon observed him curiously. The +lad struck so heavily, he thrust home so shrewdly, that Milon's hatred +changed to envy as he watched. Very comely showed the varlet, and +much to Milon's mind. The older knight set himself over against the +champion, and they met together in the centre of the field. Milon +struck his adversary so fiercely, that the lance splintered in his +gauntlet; but the young knight kept his seat without even losing a +stirrup. In return his spear was aimed with such cunning that he bore +his antagonist to the ground. Milon lay upon the earth bareheaded, for +his helmet was unlaced in the shock. His hair and beard showed +white to all, and the varlet was heavy to look on him whom he had +overthrown. He caught the destrier by the bridle, and led him before +the stricken man. + +"Sir," said he, "I pray you to get upon your horse. I am right grieved +and vexed that I should have done this wrong. Believe me that it was +wrought unwittingly." + +Milon sprang upon his steed. He approved the courtesy of his +adversary, and looking upon the hand that held his bridle, he knew +again his ring. He made inquiry of the lad. + +"Friend," said he, "hearken to me. Tell me now the name of thy sire. +How art thou called; who is thy mother? I have seen much, and gone to +and fro about the world. All my life I have journeyed from realm to +realm, by reason of tourneys and quarrels and princes' wars, yet never +once by any knight have I been borne from my horse. This day I am +overthrown by a boy, and yet I cannot help but love thee." + +The varlet answered, "I know little of my father. I understand that +his name is Milon, and that he was a knight of Wales. He loved the +daughter of a rich man, and was loved again. My mother bore me in +secret, and caused me to be carried to Northumberland, where I was +taught and tended. An old aunt was at the costs of my nourishing. She +kept me at her side, till of all her gifts she gave me horse and arms, +and sent me here, where I have remained. In hope and wish I purpose to +cross the sea, and return to my own realm. There I would seek out my +father, and learn how it stands between him and my mother. I will show +him my golden ring, and I will tell him of such privy matters that he +may not deny our kinship, but must love me as a son, and ever hold me +dear." + +When Milon heard these words he could endure them no further. He got +him swiftly from his horse, and taking the lad by the fringe of his +hauberk, he cried, "Praise be to God, for now am I healed. Fair +friend, by my faith thou art my very son, for whom I came forth from +my own land, and have sought through all this realm." + +The varlet climbed from the saddle, and stood upon his feet. Father +and son kissed each other tenderly, with many comfortable words. Their +love was fair to see, and those who looked upon their meeting, wept +for joy and pity. + + +Milon and his son departed from the tournament so soon as it came +to an end, for the knight desired greatly to speak to the varlet at +leisure, and to open before him all his mind. They rode to their +hostel, and with the knights of their fellowship, passed the hours in +mirth and revelry. Milon spoke to the lad of his mother. He told him +of their long love, and how she was given by her father in marriage to +a baron of his realm. He rehearsed the years of separation, accepted +by both with a good heart, and of the messenger who carried letters +between them, when there was none they dared to trust in, save only +the swan. + +The son made answer, + +"In faith, fair father, let us return to our own land. There I will +slay this husband, and you shall yet be my mother's lord." + +This being accorded between them, on the morrow they made them ready +for the journey, and bidding farewell to their friends, set forth for +Wales. They embarked in a propitious hour, for a fair wind carried the +ship right swiftly to its haven. They had not ridden far upon their +road, when they met a certain squire of the lady's household on his +way to Brittany, bearing letters to Milon. His task was done long +before sundown in chancing on the knight. He gave over the sealed +writing with which he was charged, praying the knight to hasten to his +friend without any tarrying, since her husband was in his grave. Milon +rejoiced greatly when he knew this thing. He showed the message to his +son, and pressed forward without pause or rest. They made such speed, +that at the end they came to the castle where the lady had her +lodging. Light of heart was she when she clasped again her child. +These two fond lovers sought neither countenance of their kin, nor +counsel of any man. Their son handselled them together, and gave the +mother to his sire. From the day they were wed they dwelt in wealth +and in sweetness to the end of their lives. + +Of their love and content the minstrel wrought this Lay. I, also, who +have set it down in writing, have won guerdon enough just by telling +over the tale. + + + + +XIII + + +THE LAY OF YONEC + +Since I have commenced I would not leave any of these Lays untold. +The stories that I know I would tell you forthwith. My hope is now to +rehearse to you the story of Yonec, the son of Eudemarec, his mother's +first born child. + +In days of yore there lived in Britain a rich man, old and full of +years, who was lord of the town and realm of Chepstow. This town is +builded on the banks of the Douglas, and is renowned by reason of many +ancient sorrows which have there befallen. When he was well stricken +in years this lord took to himself a wife, that he might have children +to come after him in his goodly heritage. The damsel, who was bestowed +on this wealthy lord, came of an honourable house, and was kind and +courteous, and passing fair. She was beloved by all because of her +beauty, and none was more sweetly spoken of from Chepstow to Lincoln, +yea, or from there to Ireland. Great was their sin who married the +maiden to this aged man. Since she was young and gay, he shut her fast +within his tower, that he might the easier keep her to himself. He set +in charge of the damsel his elder sister, a widow, to hold her more +surely in ward. These two ladies dwelt alone in the tower, together +with their women, in a chamber by themselves. There the damsel might +have speech of none, except at the bidding of the ancient dame. More +than seven years passed in this fashion. The lady had no children for +her solace, and she never went forth from the castle to greet her +kinsfolk and her friends. Her husband's jealousy was such that when +she sought her bed, no chamberlain or usher was permitted in her +chamber to light the candles. The lady became passing heavy. She spent +her days in sighs and tears. Her loveliness began to fail, for she +gave no thought to her person. Indeed at times she hated the very +shadow of that beauty which had spoiled all her life. + +Now when April had come with the gladness of the birds, this lord rose +early on a day to take his pleasure in the woods. He bade his sister +to rise from her bed to make the doors fast behind him. She did his +will, and going apart, commenced to read the psalter that she carried +in her hand. The lady awoke, and shamed the brightness of the sun with +her tears. She saw that the old woman was gone forth from the chamber, +so she made her complaint without fear of being overheard. + +"Alas," said she, "in an ill hour was I born. My lot is hard to be +shut in this tower, never to go out till I am carried to my grave. Of +whom is this jealous lord fearful that he holds me so fast in prison? +Great is a man's folly always to have it in mind that he may be +deceived. I cannot go to church, nor hearken to the service of God. If +I might talk to folk, or have a little pleasure in my life, I should +show the more tenderness to my husband, as is my wish. Very greatly +are my parents and my kin to blame for giving me to this jealous old +man, and making us one flesh. I cannot even look to become a widow, +for he will never die. In place of the waters of baptism, certainly he +was plunged in the flood of the Styx. His nerves are like iron, and +his veins quick with blood as those of a young man. Often have I heard +that in years gone by things chanced to the sad, which brought their +sorrows to an end. A knight would meet with a maiden, fresh and fair +to his desire. Damsels took to themselves lovers, discreet and brave, +and were blamed of none. Moreover since these ladies were not seen of +any, except their friends, who was there to count them blameworthy! +Perchance I deceive myself, and in spite of all the tales, such +adventures happened to none. Ah, if only the mighty God would but +shape the world to my wish!" + +When the lady had made her plaint, as you have known, the shadow of a +great bird darkened the narrow window, so that she marvelled what it +might mean. This falcon flew straightway into the chamber, jessed and +hooded from the glove, and came where the dame was seated. Whilst +the lady yet wondered upon him, the tercel became a young and comely +knight before her eyes. The lady marvelled exceedingly at this +sorcery. Her blood turned to water within her, and because of her +dread she hid her face in her hands. By reason of his courtesy the +knight first sought to persuade her to put away her fears. + +"Lady," said he, "be not so fearful. To you this hawk shall be as +gentle as a dove. If you will listen to my words I will strive to make +plain what may now be dark. I have come in this shape to your tower +that I may pray you of your tenderness to make of me your friend. I +have loved you for long, and in my heart have esteemed your love above +anything in the world. Save for you I have never desired wife or maid, +and I shall find no other woman desirable, until I die. I should have +sought you before, but I might not come, nor even leave my own realm, +till you called me in your need. Lady, in charity, take me as your +friend." + +The lady took heart and courage whilst she hearkened to these words. +Presently she uncovered her face, and made answer. She said that +perchance she would be willing to give him again his hope, if only she +had assurance of his faith in God. This she said because of her fear, +but in her heart she loved him already by reason of his great beauty. +Never in her life had she beheld so goodly a youth, nor a knight more +fair. + +"Lady," he replied, "you ask rightly. For nothing that man can give +would I have you doubt my faith and affiance. I believe truly in God, +the Maker of all, who redeemed us from the woe brought on us by our +father Adam, in the eating of that bitter fruit. This God is and was +and ever shall be the life and light of us poor sinful men. If you +still give no credence to my word, ask for your chaplain; tell him +that since you are sick you greatly desire to hear the Service +appointed by God to heal the sinner of his wound. I will take your +semblance, and receive the Body of the Lord. You will thus be +certified of my faith, and never have reason to mistrust me more." + +When the sister of that ancient lord returned from her prayers to the +chamber, she found that the lady was awake. She told her that since it +was time to get her from bed, she would make ready her vesture. +The lady made answer that she was sick, and begged her to warn the +chaplain, for greatly she feared that she might die. The agèd dame +replied, + +"You must endure as best you may, for my lord has gone to the woods, +and none will enter in the tower, save me." + +Right distressed was the lady to hear these words. She called a +woman's wiles to her aid, and made seeming to swoon upon her bed. This +was seen by the sister of her lord, and much was she dismayed. She set +wide the doors of the chamber, and summoned the priest. The chaplain +came as quickly as he was able, carrying with him the Lord's Body. The +knight received the Gift, and drank of the Wine of that chalice; then +the priest went his way, and the old woman made fast the door behind +him. + +The knight and the lady were greatly at their ease; a comelier and a +blither pair were never seen. They had much to tell one to the other, +but the hours passed till it was time for the knight to go again to +his own realm. He prayed the dame to give him leave to depart, and she +sweetly granted his prayer, yet so only that he promised to return +often to her side. + +"Lady," he made answer, "so you please to require me at any hour, you +may be sure that I shall hasten at your pleasure. But I beg you to +observe such measure in the matter, that none may do us wrong. This +old woman will spy upon us night and day, and if she observes our +friendship, will certainly show it to her lord. Should this evil +come upon us, for both it means separation, and for me, most surely, +death." + +The knight returned to his realm, leaving behind him the happiest lady +in the land. On the morrow she rose sound and well, and went lightly +through the week. She took such heed to her person, that her former +beauty came to her again. The tower that she was wont to hate as her +prison, became to her now as a pleasant lodging, that she would not +leave for any abode and garden on earth. There she could see her +friend at will, when once her lord had gone forth from the chamber. +Early and late, at morn and eve, the lovers met together. God grant +her joy was long, against the evil day that came. + +The husband of the lady presently took notice of the change in +his wife's fashion and person. He was troubled in his soul, and +misdoubting his sister, took her apart to reason with her on a day. +He told her of his wonder that his dame arrayed her so sweetly, and +inquired what this should mean. The crone answered that she knew no +more than he, "for we have very little speech one with another. She +sees neither kin nor friend; but, now, she seems quite content to +remain alone in her chamber." + +The husband made reply, + +"Doubtless she is content, and well content. But by my faith, we must +do all we may to discover the cause. Hearken to me. Some morning when +I have risen from bed, and you have shut the doors upon me, make +pretence to go forth, and let her think herself alone. You must hide +yourself in a privy place, where you can both hear and see. We shall +then learn the secret of this new found joy." + +Having devised this snare the twain went their ways. Alas, for those +who were innocent of their counsel, and whose feet would soon be +tangled in the net. + +Three days after, this husband pretended to go forth from his house. +He told his wife that the King had bidden him by letters to his Court, +but that he should return speedily. He went from the chamber, making +fast the door. His sister arose from her bed, and hid behind her +curtains, where she might see and hear what so greedily she desired +to know. The lady could not sleep, so fervently she wished for her +friend. The knight came at her call, but he might not tarry, nor +cherish her more than one single hour. Great was the joy between them, +both in word and tenderness, till he could no longer stay. All this +the crone saw with her eyes, and stored in her heart. She watched the +fashion in which he came, and the guise in which he went. But she was +altogether fearful and amazed that so goodly a knight should wear the +semblance of a hawk. When the husband returned to his house--for +he was near at hand--his sister told him that of which she was the +witness, and of the truth concerning the knight. Right heavy was he +and wrathful. Straightway he contrived a cunning gin for the slaying +of this bird. He caused four blades of steel to be fashioned, with +point and edge sharper than the keenest razor. These he fastened +firmly together, and set them securely within that window, by which +the tercel would come to his lady. Ah, God, that a knight so fair +might not see nor hear of this wrong, and that there should be none to +show him of such treason. + +On the morrow the husband arose very early, at daybreak, saying that +he should hunt within the wood. His sister made the doors fast behind +him, and returned to her bed to sleep, because it was yet but dawn. +The lady lay awake, considering of the knight whom she loved so +loyally. Tenderly she called him to her side. Without any long +tarrying the bird came flying at her will. He flew in at the open +window, and was entangled amongst the blades of steel. One blade +pierced his body so deeply, that the red blood gushed from the wound. +When the falcon knew that his hurt was to death, he forced himself to +pass the barrier, and coming before his lady fell upon her bed, so +that the sheets were dabbled with his blood. The lady looked upon her +friend and his wound, and was altogether anguished and distraught. + +"Sweet friend," said the knight, "it is for you that my life is lost. +Did I not speak truly that if our loves were known, very surely I +should be slain?" + +On hearing these words the lady's head fell upon the pillow, and for a +space she lay as she were dead. The knight cherished her sweetly. He +prayed her not to sorrow overmuch, since she should bear a son who +would be her exceeding comfort. His name should be called Yonec. He +would prove a valiant knight, and would avenge both her and him by +slaying their enemy. The knight could stay no longer, for he was +bleeding to death from his hurt. In great dolour of mind and body he +flew from the chamber. The lady pursued the bird with many shrill +cries. In her desire to follow him she sprang forth from the window. +Marvellous it was that she was not killed outright, for the window was +fully twenty feet from the ground. When the lady made her perilous +leap she was clad only in her shift. Dressed in this fashion she set +herself to follow the knight by the drops of blood which dripped from +his wound. She went along the road that he had gone before, till she +lighted on a little lodge. This lodge had but one door, and it was +stained with blood. By the marks on the lintel she knew that Eudemarec +had refreshed him in the hut, but she could not tell whether he was +yet within. The damsel entered in the lodge, but all was dark, and +since she might not find him, she came forth, and pursued her way. She +went so far that at the last the lady came to a very fair meadow. She +followed the track of blood across this meadow, till she saw a city +near at hand. This fair city was altogether shut in with high walls. +There was no house, nor hall, nor tower, but shone bright as silver, +so rich were the folk who dwelt therein. Before the town lay a still +water. To the right spread a leafy wood, and on the left hand, near by +the keep, ran a clear river. By this broad stream the ships drew to +their anchorage, for there were above three hundred lying in the +haven. The lady entered in the city by the postern gate. The gouts of +freshly fallen blood led her through the streets to the castle. None +challenged her entrance to the city; none asked of her business in the +streets; she passed neither man nor woman upon her way. Spots of red +blood lay on the staircase of the palace. The lady entered and found +herself within a low ceiled room, where a knight was sleeping on a +pallet. She looked upon his face and passed beyond. She came within a +larger room, empty, save for one lonely couch, and for the knight who +slept thereon. But when the lady entered in the third chamber she saw +a stately bed, that well she knew to be her friend's. This bed was of +inwrought gold, and was spread with silken cloths beyond price. The +furniture was worth the ransom of a city, and waxen torches in sconces +of silver lighted the chamber, burning night and day. Swiftly as the +lady had come she knew again her friend, directly she saw him with her +eyes. She hastened to the bed, and incontinently swooned for grief. +The knight clasped her in his arms, bewailing his wretched lot, but +when she came to her mind, he comforted her as sweetly as he might. + +"Fair friend, for God's love I pray you get from hence as quickly as +you are able. My time will end before the day, and my household, in +their wrath, may do you a mischief if you are found in the castle. +They are persuaded that by reason of your love I have come to my +death. Fair friend, I am right heavy and sorrowful because of you." + +The lady made answer, "Friend, the best thing that can befall me is +that we shall die together. How may I return to my husband? If he +finds me again he will certainly slay me with the sword." + +The knight consoled her as he could. He bestowed a ring upon his +friend, teaching her that so long as she wore the gift, her husband +would think of none of these things, nor care for her person, nor seek +to revenge him for his wrongs. Then he took his sword and rendered it +to the lady, conjuring her by their great love, never to give it to +the hand of any, till their son should be counted a brave and worthy +knight. When that time was come she and her lord would go--together +with the son--to a feast. They would lodge in an Abbey, where should +be seen a very fair tomb. There her son must be told of this death; +there he must be girt with this sword. In that place shall be +rehearsed the tale of his birth, and his father, and all this bitter +wrong. And then shall be seen what he will do. + +When the knight had shown his friend all that was in his heart, he +gave her a bliaut, passing rich, that she might clothe her body, and +get her from the palace. She went her way, according to his command, +bearing with her the ring, and the sword that was her most precious +treasure. She had not gone half a mile beyond the gate of the city +when she heard the clash of bells, and the cries of men who lamented +the death of their lord. Her grief was such that she fell four +separate times upon the road, and four times she came from out her +swoon. She bent her steps to the lodge where her friend had refreshed +him, and rested for awhile. Passing beyond she came at last to her own +land, and returned to her husband's tower. There, for many a day, she +dwelt in peace, since--as Eudemarec foretold--her lord gave no thought +to her outgoings, nor wished to avenge him, neither spied upon her any +more. + +In due time the lady was delivered of a son, whom she named Yonec. +Very sweetly nurtured was the lad. In all the realm there was not his +like for beauty and generosity, nor one more skilled with the spear. +When he was of a fitting age the King dubbed him knight. Hearken now, +what chanced to them all, that self-same year. + +It was the custom of that country to keep the feast of St. Aaron with +great pomp at Caerleon, and many another town besides. The husband +rode with his friends to observe the festival, as was his wont. +Together with him went his wife and her son, richly apparelled. As the +roads were not known of the company, and they feared to lose their +way, they took with them a certain youth to lead them in the straight +path. The varlet brought them to a town; in all the world was none so +fair. Within this city was a mighty Abbey, filled with monks in +their holy habit. The varlet craved a lodging for the night, and the +pilgrims were welcomed gladly of the monks, who gave them meat and +drink near by the Abbot's table. On the morrow, after Mass, they would +have gone their way, but the Abbot prayed them to tarry for a little, +since he would show them his chapter house and dormitory, and all the +offices of the Abbey. As the Abbot had sheltered them so courteously, +the husband did according to his wish. + +Immediately that the dinner had come to an end, the pilgrims rose from +table, and visited the offices of the Abbey. Coming to the chapter +house they entered therein, and found a fair tomb, exceeding great, +covered with a silken cloth, banded with orfreys of gold. Twenty +torches of wax stood around this rich tomb, at the head, the foot, and +the sides. The candlesticks were of fine gold, and the censer swung in +that chantry was fashioned from an amethyst. When the pilgrims saw +the great reverence vouchsafed to this tomb, they inquired of the +guardians as to whom it should belong, and of the lord who lay +therein. The monks commenced to weep, and told with tears, that in +that place was laid the body of the best, the bravest, and the fairest +knight who ever was, or ever should be born. "In his life he was King +of this realm, and never was there so worshipful a lord. He was slain +at Caerwent for the love of a lady of those parts. Since then the +country is without a King. Many a day have we waited for the son of +these luckless lovers to come to our land, even as our lord commanded +us to do." + +When the lady heard these words she cried to her son with a loud voice +before them all. + +"Fair son," said she, "you have heard why God has brought us to this +place. It is your father who lies dead within this tomb. Foully was he +slain by this ancient Judas at your side." + +With these words she plucked out the sword, and tendered him the +glaive that she had guarded for so long a season. As swiftly as she +might she told the tale of how Eudemarec came to have speech with his +friend in the guise of a hawk; how the bird was betrayed to his death +by the jealousy of her lord; and of Yonec the falcon's son. At the end +she fell senseless across the tomb, neither did she speak any further +word until the soul had gone from her body. When the son saw that his +mother lay dead upon her lover's grave, he raised his father's sword +and smote the head of that ancient traitor from his shoulders. In +that hour he avenged his father's death, and with the same blow gave +quittance for the wrongs of his mother. As soon as these tidings were +published abroad, the folk of that city came together, and setting the +body of that fair lady within a coffin, sealed it fast, and with due +rite and worship placed it beside the body of her friend. May God +grant them pardon and peace. As to Yonec, their son, the people +acclaimed him for their lord, as he departed from the church. + +Those who knew the truth of this piteous adventure, after many days +shaped it to a Lay, that all men might learn the plaint and the dolour +that these two friends suffered by reason of their love. + + + + +XIV + + +THE LAY OF THE THORN + +Whosoever counts these Lays as fable, may be assured that I am not of +his mind. The dead and past stories that I have told again in divers +fashions, are not set down without authority. The chronicles of these +far off times are yet preserved in the land. They may be read by the +curious at Caerleon, or in the monastery of St. Aaron. They may be +heard in Brittany, and in many another realm besides. To prove how +the remembrance of such tales endures, I will now relate to you the +adventure of the Two Children, making clear what has remained hidden +to this very hour. + +In Brittany there lived a prince, high of spirit, fair of person, +courteous and kind to all. This Childe was a King's son, and there +were none to cherish him but his father and his father's wife, for +his mother was dead. The King held him dearer than aught else in the +world, and close he was to the lady's heart. The lady, for her part, +had a daughter by another husband than the King. Very dainty was the +maiden, sweet of colour and of face, passing young and fair. Both +these children, born to so high estate, were right tender of age, for +the varlet, who was the elder of the twain, was but seven years. The +two children loved together very sweetly. Nothing seemed of worth to +one, if it were not shared with the other. They were nourished at the +same table, went their ways together, and lived side by side. The +guardians who held them in ward, seeing their great love, made no +effort to put them apart, but allowed them to have all things in +common. The love of these children increased with their years, but +Dame Nature brought another love to youth and maid than she gave to +the child. They delighted no more in their old frolic and play. Such +sport gave place to clasp and kisses, to many words, and to long +silences. To savour their friendship they took refuge in an attic of +the keep, but all the years they had passed together, made the new +love flower more sweetly in their hearts, as each knew well. Very pure +and tender was their love, and good would it have been if they could +have hidden it from their fellows. This might not be, for in no great +while they were spied upon, and seen. + +It chanced upon a day that this prince, so young and debonair, came +home from the river with an aching head, by reason of the heat. He +entered in a chamber, and shutting out the noise and clamour, lay +upon his bed, to ease his pain. The Queen was with her daughter in a +chamber, instructing her meetly in that which it becomes a maid to +know. Closer to a damsel's heart is her lover than her kin. So soon as +she heard that her friend was come again to the house, she stole forth +from her mother, without saying word to any, and accompanied by none, +went straight to the chamber where he slept. The prince welcomed her +gladly, for they had not met together that day. The lady, who thought +no wrong, condoled with him in his sickness, and of her sweetness gave +him a hundred kisses to soothe his hurt. Too swiftly sped the time +in this fashion. Presently the Queen noticed that the damsel was no +longer with her at her task. She rose to her feet, and going quickly +to the chamber of the prince, entered therein without call or knock, +for the door was unfastened on the latch. When the Queen saw these two +lovers fondly laced in each other's arms, she knew and was certified +of their love. Right wrathful was the Queen. She caught the maiden +by the wrist, and shut her fast in her room. She prayed the King to +govern his son more strictly, and to hold him in such ward about the +Court that he might get no speech with the damsel. Since he could have +neither sight nor word of his friend, save only the sound of weeping +from her chamber, the prince determined to tarry no further in the +palace. He sought his father the self-same hour, and showed him what +was in his mind. + +"Sire," said he, "I crave a gift. If it pleases you to be a father to +your son, make me now a knight. I desire to seek another realm, and to +serve some prince for guerdon. The road calls me, for many a knight +has won much riches with his sword." + +The King did not refuse the lad's request, but accorded it should be +even as he wished. He prayed the prince to dwell for a year about the +Court, that he might the more readily assist at such tourneys and +follow such feats of arms as were proclaimed in the kingdom. This the +prince agreed to do--the more readily because there was nothing else +to be done. He remained therefore at the Court, moving ever by his +father's side. The maiden, for her part, was in the charge of her +mother, who reproached her always for that she had done amiss. The +Queen did not content herself with reproaches and threats. She used +the sharp discipline upon her, so that the maiden suffered grievously +in her person. Sick at heart was the varlet whilst he hearkened to the +beatings, the discipline and the chastisement wherewith her mother +corrected the damsel. He knew not what to do, for well he understood +that his was the fault, and that by reason of him was her neck bowed +down in her youth. More and more was he tormented because of his +friend. + +More and more the stripes with which she was afflicted became heavier +for him to bear. He shut himself close within his chamber, and making +fast the door, gave his heart over to tears. + +"Alas," cried he, "what shall I do! How may the ill be cured that I +have brought on us by my lightness and folly! I love her more than +life, and, certes, if I may not have my friend I will prove that I can +die for her, though I cannot live without her." + +Whilst the prince made this lamentation, the Queen came before the +King. + +"Sir," said she, "I pledge my oath and word as a crowned lady that I +keep my daughter as strictly as I may. Think to your own son, and see +to it that he cannot set eyes on the maid. He considers none other +thing but how to get clasp and speech of his friend." + +For this reason the King guarded his son about the Court as closely as +the Queen held the maiden in her chamber. So vigilant was the watch +that these pitiful lovers might never have word together. They had no +leisure to meet; they never looked one on the other; nor heard tidings +of how they did, whether by letter or by sergeant. + +They lived this death in life till the same year--eight days before +the Feast of St. John--the varlet was dubbed knight. The King spent +the day in the chase, and returning, brought with him great store of +fowl and venison that he had taken. After supper, when the tables were +removed, the King seated himself for his delight upon a carpet spread +before the dais, his son and many a courteous lord with him. The fair +company gave ear to the Lay of Alys, sweetly sung by a minstrel from +Ireland, to the music of his rote. When his story was ended, forthwith +he commenced another, and related the Lay of Orpheus; none being so +bold as to disturb the singer, or to let his mind wander from the +song. Afterwards the knights spoke together amongst themselves. They +told of adventures which in ancient days had chanced to many, and were +noised about Brittany. Amongst these lords sat a damsel, passing sweet +of tongue. In her turn she told of a certain adventure which awaited +the adventurous at the Ford of the Thorn, once every year, on the +vigil of St. John, "but much I doubt whether now there be knights +so bold as to dare the perils of that passage." When the newly made +knight heard these words his pride quickened within him. He considered +that although he was belted with the sword, he had as yet done no deed +to prove his courage in the eyes of men. He deemed the time had come +to show his hardihood, and to put to silence the malicious lips. He +stood upon his feet, calling upon damsel, King and barons to hearken +to his voice, and spake out manfully in the ears of great and small. + +"Lords," cried he, "whatever says the maiden, I boast before you all +that on St. John's Eve I will ride alone to the Ford of the Thorn, and +dare this adventure, whether it bring me gain or whether it bring me +loss." + +The King was right heavy to hear these words. He thought them to be +the gab and idle speech of a boy. + +"Fair son," said he, "put this folly from your mind." + +But when the King was persuaded that whether it were foolishness or +wisdom the lad was determined to go his way, and abide the issue of +the adventure, + +"Go swiftly," said he, "in the care of God. Since risk your life you +must, play it boldly like a pawn, and may God grant you heart's desire +and happy hours." + +The self-same night, whilst the lad lay sleeping in his bed, that +fair lady, his friend, was in much unrest in hers. The tidings of her +lover's boast had been carried quickly to her chamber, and sorely was +she adread for what might chance. When the Eve of St. John was come, +and the day drew towards evening, the varlet, with all fair hopes, +made him ready to ride to the Ford Adventurous. He had clad himself +from basnet to shoes in steel, and mounted on a strong destrier, went +his road to essay the Passage of the Thorn. Whilst he took his path +the maiden took hers. She went furtively to the orchard, that she +might importune God to bring her friend again, safe and sound to his +own house. She seated herself on the roots of a tree, and with sighs +and tears lamented her piteous case. + +"Father of Heaven," said the girl, "Who was and ever shall be, be +pitiful to my prayer. Since it is not to Thy will that any man should +be wretched, be merciful to a most unhappy maid. Fair Sire, give back +the days that are gone, when my friend was at my side, and grant that +once again I may be with him. Lord God of Hosts, when shall I be +healed? None knows the bitterness of my sorrow, for none may taste +thereof, save such as set their heart on what they may not have. These +only, Lord, know the wormwood and the gall." + +Thus prayed the maiden, seated on the roots of that ancient tree, her +feet upon the tender grass. At the time of her orisons much was she +sought and inquired after in the palace, but none might find where she +had hidden. The damsel herself was given over altogether to her love +and her sorrow, and had no thought for anything, save for prayers and +tears. The night wore through, and dawn already laced the sky, when +she fell on a little slumber, in the tree where she was sheltered. She +woke with a start, but returned to her sleep more deeply than before. +She had not slept long, when herseemed she was ravished from the +tree--but I cannot make this plain for I know no wizardry--to that +Ford of the Thorn, where her friend and lover had repaired. The knight +looked upon the sleeping maiden, and marvelled at so fair a sight. All +adread was the lady when she came from her slumber, for she knew not +where she lay, and wondered greatly. She covered her head by reason of +her exceeding fear, but the knight consoled her courteously. + +"Diva," said he, "there is no reason for terror. If you are an earthly +woman, speaking with a mortal tongue, tell me your story. Tell me in +what guise and manner you came so suddenly to this secret place." + +The maiden began to be of more courage, till she remembered that she +was no longer in the orchard of the castle. She inquired of the knight +to what haunt she had come. + +"Lady," he made answer, "you are laid at the Ford of the Thorn, where +adventures chance to the seeker, sometimes greatly against the mind, +and sometimes altogether according to the heart." + +"Ah, dear God," cried the lady, "now shall I be made whole. Sir, look +a little closer upon me, for I have been your friend. Thanks be to +God, who so soon has heard my prayer." + +This was the beginning of adventures which happened that night to the +seeker. The maiden hastened to embrace her lover. He got him nimbly +from his horse, and taking her softly between his arms, kissed her +with more kisses than I can tell. Then they sat together beneath the +thorn, and the damsel told how she fell asleep within that old tree in +the pleasaunce, of how she was rapt from thence in her slumber, and of +how, yet sleeping, he came upon her by the Ford. When the knight had +hearkened to all that she had to say, he looked from her face, and +glancing across the river, marked a lord, with lifted lance, riding +to the ford. This knight wore harness of a fair vermeil colour, and +bestrode a horse white of body, save for his two ears, which were red +as the rider's mail. Slender of girdle was this knight, and he made no +effort to enter the river, but drew rein upon the other side of the +passage, and watched. The varlet said to his friend that it became +his honour to essay some feats of arms with this adversary. He got to +horse, and rode to the river, leaving the maiden beneath the thorn. +Had she but found another horse at need, very surely would she have +ridden to his aid. The two knights drew together as swiftly as their +steeds could bear them. They thrust so shrewdly with the lance, that +their shields were split and broken. The spears splintered in the +gauntlet, and both champions were unhorsed by the shock, rolling on +the sand; but nothing worse happened to them. Since they had neither +squire nor companion to help them on their feet, they pained them +grievously to get them from the ground. When they might climb upon +their steeds, they hung again the buckler about the neck, and lowered +their ashen spears. Passing heavy was the varlet, for shame that his +friend had seen him thrown. The two champions met together in the +onset, but the prince struck his adversary so cunningly with the +lance, that the laces of his buckler were broken, and the shield fell +from his body. When the varlet saw this he rejoiced greatly, for he +knew that the eyes of his friend were upon him. He pressed his quarrel +right fiercely, and tumbling his foe from the saddle, seized his horse +by the bridle.[2] + +The two knights passed the ford, and the prince feared sorely because +of the skill and mightiness of his adversary. He could not doubt that +if they fell upon him together he would perish at their hands. He put +the thought from mind, for he would not suspect them of conduct so +unbecoming to gentle knight, and so contrary to the laws of chivalry. +If they desired some passage of arms, doubtless they would joust as +gentlemen, and each for himself alone. When these three knights were +mounted on their steeds, they crossed the ford with courtesy and +order, each seeking to give precedence to his companion. Having come +to the bank the stranger knights prayed the prince to run a course for +their pleasure. He answered that it was his wish, too, and made him +ready for the battle. The prince rejoiced greatly when he saw one of +these two adversaries ride a little apart, that he might the more +easily observe the combat. He was assured that he would suffer no +felony at their hands. For their part the two knights were persuaded +that they had to do with an errant who had ridden to the ford for no +other gain than honour and praise. The two adversaries took their +places within the lists. They lowered their lance, and covering their +bodies with the shield, smote fiercely together. So rude was the shock +that the staves of the spears were broken, and the strong destriers +were thrown upon their haunches. Neither of the good knights had lost +his saddle. Each of the combatants got him to his feet, and drawing +the sword, pressed upon his fellow, till the blood began to flow. When +the knight who judged this quarrel saw their prowess, he came near, +and commanded that the battle should cease. The adversaries drew +apart, and struck no further blow with the sword. Right courteously +and with fair words he spake to the prince. "Friend," said the knight, +"get to your horse, and break a lance with me. Then we can go in +peace, for our time grows short. You must endure till the light be +come if you hope to gain the prize. Do your devoir, valiantly, +for should you chance to be thrown in this course, or slain by +misadventure, you have lost your desire. None will ever hear of this +adventure; all your life you will remain little and obscure. Your +maiden will be led away by the victor, seated on the good Castilian +horse you have gained by right of courage. Fight bravely. The +trappings of the destrier are worth the spoil of a king's castle, and +as for the horse himself he is the swiftest and the fairest in the +world. Be not amazed that I tell you of these matters. I have watched +you joust, and know you for a hardy knight and a gallant gentleman. +Besides I stand to lose horse and harness equally with you." + +[Footnote 2: There is here some omission in the manuscript.] + +The prince listened to these words, and accorded that the knight spoke +wisely and well. He would willingly have taken counsel of the maiden, +but first, as surely he knew, he must joust with this knight. He +gathered the reins in his glove, and choosing a lance with an ashen +staff, opposed himself to his adversary. The combatants met together +so fiercely that the lance pierced the steel of the buckler; yet +neither lost stirrup by the shock. When the prince saw this he smote +the knight so shrewdly that he would have fallen from the saddle, had +he not clung to the neck of his destrier. Of his courtesy the prince +passed on, and refrained his hand until his enemy had recovered his +seat. On his return he found the knight full ready to continue his +devoir. Each of the champions plucked forth his sword, and sheltered +him beneath his shield. They struck such mighty blows that the +bucklers were hewn in pieces, but in spite of all they remained firm +in the saddle. The maiden was aghast whilst she watched the melée. She +had great fear for her friend, lest mischief should befall him, and +she cried loudly to the knight that, for grace, he should give over +this combat, and go his way. Very courteous was the knight, and meetly +schooled in what was due to maidens. He saluted the damsel, and, +together with his companion, rode straightway from the ford. The +prince watched them pass for a little, then without further tarrying +he went swiftly to the maiden, where, all fearful and trembling, she +knelt beneath the thorn. The lady stood upon her feet as her lover +drew near. She climbed behind him on the saddle, for well she knew +that their pains were done. They fared so fast that when it was yet +scarce day they came again to the palace. The King saw them approach, +and rejoiced greatly at his son's prowess; but at this he marvelled +much, that he should return with the daughter of the Queen. + +The self-same day of this home-coming--as I have heard tell--the King +had summoned to Court his barons and vassals because of a certain +quarrel betwixt two of his lords. This quarrel being accorded between +them, and come to a fair end, the King related to that blithe company +the story of this adventure. He told again that which you know, of how +the prince defended the Ford, of the finding of the maiden beneath the +thorn, of the mighty joust, and of that white horse which was taken +from the adversary. + +The prince both then and thereafter caused the horse to be entreated +with the greatest care. He received the maiden to wife, and cherished +her right tenderly. She, and the steed on which she would always ride, +were his richest possessions. The destrier lived many years in much +honour, but on a day when his master was taking the harness from his +head, he fell and died forthwith. + +Of the story which has been set before you the Bretons wrought a Lay. +They did not call the song the Lay of the Ford, although the adventure +took place at a river; neither have they named it The Lay of the Two +Children. For good or ill the rhyme is known as the Lay of the Thorn. +It begins well and endeth better, for these kisses find their fruition +in marriage. + + + + +XV + + +THE LAY OF GRAELENT + +Now will I tell you the adventure of Graelent, even as it was told to +me, for the Lay is sweet to hear, and the tune thereof lovely to bear +in mind. + +Graelent was born in Brittany of a gentle and noble house, very comely +of person and very frank of heart. The King who held Brittany in that +day, made mortal war upon his neighbours, and commanded his vassals to +take arms in his quarrel. Amongst these came Graelent, whom the King +welcomed gladly, and since he was a wise and hardy knight greatly was +he honoured and cherished by the Court. So Graelent strove valiantly +at tourney and at joust, and pained himself mightily to do the enemy +all the mischief that he was able. The Queen heard tell the prowess of +her knight, and loved him in her heart for reason of his feats of arms +and of the good men spoke of him. So she called her chamberlain apart, +and said, "Tell me truly, hast thou not often heard speak of that fair +knight, Sir Graelent, whose praise is in all men's mouths?" + +"Lady," answered the chamberlain, "I know him for a courteous +gentleman, well spoken of by all." + +"I would he were my friend," replied the lady, "for I am in much +unrest because of him. Go thou, and bid him come to me, so he would be +worthy of my love." "Passing gracious and rich is your gift, lady, and +doubtless he will receive it with marvellous joy. Why, from here to +Troy there is no priest even, however holy, who in looking on your +face would not lose Heaven in your eyes." + +Thereupon the chamberlain took leave of the Queen, and seeking +Graelent within his lodging saluted him courteously, and gave him the +message, praying him to come without delay to the palace. + +"Go before, fair friend," answered the knight, "for I will follow you +at once." + +So when the chamberlain was gone Graelent caused his grey horse to be +saddled, and mounting thereon, rode to the castle, attended by his +squire. He descended without the hall, and passing before the King +entered within the Queen's chamber. When the lady saw him she embraced +him closely, and cherished and honoured him sweetly. Then she made the +knight to be seated on a fair carpet, and to his face praised him +for his exceeding comeliness. But he answered her very simply and +courteously, saying nothing but what was seemly to be said. Then the +Queen kept silence for a great while, considering whether she should +require him to love her for the love of love; but at the last, made +bold by passion, she asked if his heart was set on any maid or dame. + +"Lady," said he, "I love no woman, for love is a serious business, +not a jest. Out of five hundred who speak glibly of love, not one +can spell the first letter of his name. With such it is idleness, +or fulness of bread, or fancy, masking in the guise of love. Love +requires of his servants chastity in thought, in word and in deed. If +one of two lovers is loyal, and the other jealous and false, how may +their friendship last, for Love is slain! But sweetly and discreetly +love passes from person to person, from heart to heart, or it is +nothing worth. For what the lover would, that would the beloved; what +she would ask of him that should he go before to grant. Without accord +such as this, love is but a bond and a constraint. For above all +things Love means sweetness, and truth, and measure; yea, loyalty to +the loved one and to your word. And because of this I dare not meddle +with so high a matter." + +The Queen heard Graelent gladly, finding him so tripping of tongue, +and since his words were wise and courteous, at the end she discovered +to him her heart. + +"Friend, Sir Graelent, though I am a wife, yet have I never loved my +lord. But I love you very dearly, and what I have asked of you will +you not go before to grant?" + +"Lady," said he, "give me pity and forgiveness, but this may not be. +I am the vassal of the King, and on my knees have pledged him loyalty +and faith, and sworn to defend his life and honour. Never shall he +have shame because of me." + +With these words Sir Graelent took his leave of the Queen, and went +his way. + +Seeing him go in this fashion the Queen commenced to sigh. She was +grieved in her heart, and knew not what to do. But whatever chanced +she would not renounce her passion, so often she required his love by +means of soft messages and costly gifts, but he refused them all. Then +the Queen turned from love to hate, and the greatness of her passion +became the measure of her wrath, for very evilly she spoke of Graelent +to the King. So long as the war endured Graelent remained in that +realm. He spent all that he had upon his company, for the King grudged +wages to his men. The Queen persuaded the King to this, counselling +him that by withholding the pay of the sergeants, Graelent might in no +wise flee the country, nor take service with another lord. So at the +end Graelent was wonderfully downcast, nor was it strange that he was +sad, for there remained nothing which he might pledge, but one poor +steed, and when this was gone, no horse had he to carry him from the +country. + +It was now the month of May, when the hours are long and warm. The +burgess, with whom Graelent lodged, had risen early in the morning, +and with his wife had gone to eat with neighbours in the town. No one +was in the house except Graelent, no squire, nor archer, nor servant, +save only the daughter of his host, a very courteous maid. When the +hour for dinner was come she prayed the knight that they might sit at +board together. But he had no heart for mirth, and seeking out his +squire bade him bridle and saddle his horse, for he had no care to +eat. + +"I have no saddle," replied the squire. + +"Friend," said the demoiselle, "I will lend you bridle and saddle as +well." + +So when the harness was done upon him, Graelent mounted his horse, and +went his way through the town, clad in a cloak of sorry fur, which +he had worn overlong already. The townsfolk in the street turned and +stared upon him, making a jest of his poverty, but of their jibes +he took no heed, for such act but after their kind, and seldom show +kindliness or courtesy. + +Now without the town there spread a great forest, thick with trees, +and through the forest ran a river. Towards this forest Graelent rode, +deep in heavy thought, and very dolent. Having ridden for a little +space beneath the trees, he spied within a leafy thicket a fair white +hart, whiter even than snow on winter branches. The hart fled before +him, and Graelent followed so closely in her track that man and deer +presently came together to a grassy lawn, in the midst of which sprang +a fountain of clear, sweet water. Now in this fountain a demoiselle +disported herself for her delight. Her raiment was set on a bush near +by, and her two maidens stood on the bank busied in their lady's +service. Graelent forgot the chase at so sweet a sight, since never +in his life had he seen so lovely a dame. For the lady was slender in +shape and white, very gracious and dainty of colour, with laughing +eyes and an open brow, certainly the most beautiful thing in all the +world. Graelent dared not draw nigh the fountain for fear of troubling +the dame, so he came softly to the bush to set hands upon her raiment. +The two maidens marked his approach, and at their fright the lady +turned, and calling him by name, cried with great anger, + +"Graelent, put my raiment down, for it will profit you little even if +you carry it away, and leave me naked in this wood. But if you are +indeed too greedy of gain to remember your knighthood, at least return +me my shift, and content yourself with my mantle, since it will bring +you money, as it is very good." + +"I am not a merchant's son," answered Graelent merrily, "nor am I a +huckster to sell mantles in a booth. If your cloak were worth the +spoil of three castles I would not now carry it from the bush. Come +forth from your bathing, fair friend, and clothe yourself in your +vesture, for you have to say a certain word to me." + +"I will not trust myself to your hand, for you might seize upon me," +answered the lady, "and I tell you frankly that I put no faith in your +word, nor have had any dealings with your school." + +Then Graelent answered still more merrily, "Lady, needs must I suffer +your wrath. But at least I will guard your raiment till you come forth +from the well and, fairest, very dainty is your body in my eyes." + +When the lady knew that Graelent would not depart, nor render again +her raiment, then she demanded surety that he would do her no hurt. +This thing was accorded between them, so she came forth from the +fountain, and did her vesture upon her. Then Graelent took her gently +by the left hand, and prayed and required of her that she would grant +him love for love. But the lady answered, "I marvel greatly that you +should dare to speak to me in this fashion, for I have little reason +to think you discreet. You are bold, sir knight, and overbold, to seek +to ally yourself with a woman of my lineage." + +Sir Graelent was not abashed by the dame's proud spirit, but wooed and +prayed her gently and sweetly, promising that if she granted him her +love he would serve her in all loyalty, and never depart therefrom +all the days of his life. The demoiselle hearkened to the words of +Graelent, and saw plainly that he was a valiant knight, courteous and +wise. She thought within herself that should she send him from her, +never might she find again so sure a friend. Since, then, she knew him +worthy of her love, she kissed him softly, and spoke to him in this +manner, "Graelent, I will love you none the less truly, though we have +not met until this day. But one thing is needful that our love may +endure. Never must you speak a word by which this hidden thing may +become known. I will furnish you with deniers in your purse, with +cloth of silk, with silver and with gold. Night and day will I stay +with you, and great shall be the love between us twain. You shall +see me riding at your side; you may talk and laugh with me at your +pleasure, but I must never be seen of your comrades, nor must they +know aught concerning your bride. Graelent, you are loyal, brave, and +courteous, and comely enough to the view. For you I spread my snare +at the fountain; for you shall I suffer heavy pains, as well I knew +before I set forth on this adventure. Now must I trust to your +discretion, for if you speak vainly and boastfully of this thing then +am I undone. Remain now for a year in this country, which shall be for +you a home that your lady loves well. But noon is past, and it is time +for you to go. Farewell, and a messenger shortly shall tell you that +which I would have you do." + +Graelent took leave of the lady, and she sweetly clasped and kissed +him farewell. He returned to his lodging, dismounted from his steed, +and entering within a chamber, leaned from the casement, considering +this strange adventure. Looking towards the forest he saw a varlet +issue therefrom riding upon a palfrey. He drew rein before Graelent's +door, and taking his feet from the stirrup, saluted the knight. So +Graelent inquired from whence he rode, and of his name and business. + +"Sir," answered he, "I am the messenger of your lady. She sends you +this destrier by my hand, and would have me enter in your service, to +pay your servitors their wages and to take charge of your lodging." + +When Graelent heard this message he thought it both good and fair. He +kissed the varlet upon the cheek, and accepting his gift, caused the +destrier--which was the noblest, the swiftest and the most speedy +under the sun--to be led to the stable. Then the varlet carried his +baggage to his master's chamber, and took therefrom a large cushion +and a rich coverlet which he spread upon the couch. After this he drew +thereout a purse containing much gold and silver, and stout cloth +fitting for the knight's apparel. Then he sent for the host, and +paying him what was owing, called upon him to witness that he was +recompensed most largely for the lodging. He bade him also to seek out +such knights as should pass through the town to refresh and solace +themselves in the company of his lord. The host was a worthy man. He +made ready a plenteous dinner, and inquired through the town for such +poor knights as were in misease by reason of prison or of war. These +he brought to the hostelry of Sir Graelent, and comforted them with +instruments of music, and with all manner of mirth. Amongst them sat +Graelent at meat, gay and debonair, and richly apparelled. Moreover, +to these poor knights and the harpers Graelent gave goodly gifts, so +that there was not a citizen in all the town who did not hold him in +great worship, and regard him as his lord. + +From this moment Graelent lived greatly at his ease, for not a cloud +was in his sky. His lady came at will and pleasure; all day long they +laughed and played together, and at night she lay softly at his side. +What truer happiness might he know than this? Often, besides, he rode +to such tournaments of the land as he was able, and all men esteemed +him for a stout and worthy knight. Very pleasant were his days, and +his love, and if such things might last for ever he had nothing else +to ask of life. + +When a full year had passed by, the season drew to the Feast of +Pentecost. Now it was the custom of the King to summon at that tide +his barons and all who held their fiefs of him to his Court for a rich +banquet. Amongst these lords was bidden Sir Graelent. After men had +eaten and drunk the whole day, and all were merry, the King commanded +the Queen to put off her royal robes, and to stand forth upon the +dais. Then he boasted before the company, + +"Lord barons, how seems it to you? Beneath the sky is there a lovelier +Queen than mine, be she maid, lady or demoiselle?" + +So all the lords made haste to praise the Queen, and to cry and affirm +that in all the world was neither maid nor wife so dainty, fresh and +fair. Not a single voice but bragged of her beauty, save only that +of Graelent. He smiled at their folly, for his heart remembered his +friend, and he held in pity all those who so greatly rejoiced in the +Queen. So he sat with covered head, and with face bent smiling to the +board. The Queen marked his discourtesy, and drew thereto the notice +of the King. + +"Sire, do you observe this dishonour! Not one of these mighty lords +but has praised the beauty of your wife, save Graelent only, who makes +a mock of her. Always has he held me in envy and despite." + +The King commanded Graelent to his throne, and in the hearing of all +bade the knight to tell, on his faith as vassal to his liege, for what +reason he had hid his face and laughed. + +"Sire," answered Graelent to the King, "Sire, hearken to my words. In +all the world no man of your lineage does so shameful a deed as this. +You make your wife a show upon a stage. You force your lords to praise +her just with lies, saying that the sun does not shine upon her peer. +One man will tell the truth to your face, and say that very easily can +be found a fairer dame than she." + +Right heavy was the King when he heard these words. He conjured +Graelent to tell him straightly if he knew a daintier dame. + +"Yes, Sire, and thirty times more gracious than the Queen." + +The Queen was marvellously wrathful to hear this thing, and prayed her +husband of his grace to compel the knight to bring that woman to the +Court of whose beauty he made so proud a boast. + +"Set us side by side, and let the choice be made between us. Should +she prove the fairer let him go in peace; but if not, let justice be +done on him for his calumny and malice." + +So the King bade his guards to lay hands on Graelent, swearing that +between them never should be love nor peace, nor should the knight +issue forth from prison, until he had brought before him her whose +beauty he had praised so much. + +Graelent was held a captive. He repented him of his hasty words, and +begged the King to grant him respite. He feared to have lost his +friend, and sweated grievously with rage and mortification. But though +many of the King's house pitied him in his evil case, the long days +brought him no relief, until a full year went by, and once again the +King made a great banquet to his barons and his lieges. Then was +Graelent brought to hall, and put to liberty on such terms that he +would return bringing with him her whose loveliness he had praised +before the King. Should she prove so desirable and dear, as his boast, +then all would be well, for he had naught to fear. But if he returned +without his lady, then he must go to judgment, and his only hope would +be in the mercy of the King. + +Graelent mounted his good horse, and parted from the Court sad and +wrathful. He sought his lodging, and inquired for his servant, but +might not find him. He called upon his friend, but the lady did not +heed his voice. Then Graelent gave way to despair, and preferred death +to life. He shut himself within his chamber, crying upon his dear one +for grace and mercy, but from her he got neither speech nor comfort. +So seeing that his love had withdrawn herself from him by reason of +his grievous fault, he took no rest by night or day, and held his life +in utter despite. For a full year he lived in this piteous case, so +that it was marvellous to those about him that he might endure his +life. + +On the day appointed the sureties brought Graelent where the King was +set in hall with his lords. Then the King inquired of Graelent where +was now his friend. + +"Sire," answered the knight, "she is not here, for in no wise might I +find her. Now do with me according to your will." + +"Sir Graelent," said the King, "very foully have you spoken. You have +slandered the Queen, and given all my lords the lie. When you go from +my hands never will you do more mischief with your tongue." + +Then the King spoke with a high voice to his barons. + +"Lords, I pray and command you to give judgment in this matter. You +heard the blame that Graelent set upon me before all my Court. You +know the deep dishonour that he fastened on the Queen. How may such a +disloyal vassal deal honestly with his lord, for as the proverb tells, +'Hope not for friendship from the man who beats your dog!'" + +The lords of the King's household went out from before him, and +gathered themselves together to consider their judgment. They kept +silence for a great space, for it was grievous to them to deal harshly +with so valiant a knight. Whilst they thus refrained from words a +certain page hastened unto them, and prayed them not to press the +matter, for (said he) "even now two young maidens, the freshest maids +in all the realm, seek the Court. Perchance they bring succour to +the good knight, and, so it be the will of God, may deliver him from +peril." So the lords waited right gladly, and presently they saw two +damsels come riding to the palace. Very young were these maidens, very +slender and gracious, and daintily cloaked in two fair mantles. So +when the pages had hastened to hold their stirrup and bridle, the +maidens dismounted from their palfreys and entering within the hall +came straight before the King. + +"Sire," said one of the two damsels, "hearken now to me. My lady +commands us to pray you to put back this cause for a while, nor to +deliver judgment therein, since she comes to plead with you for the +deliverance of this knight." + +When the Queen heard this message she was filled with shame, and made +speed to get her from the hall Hardly had she gone than there entered +two other damsels, whiter and more sweetly flushed even than their +fellows. These bade the King to wait for a little, since their +mistress was now at hand. So all men stared upon them, and praised +their great beauty, saying that if the maid was so fair, what then +must be the loveliness of the dame. When, therefore, the demoiselle +came in her turn, the King's household stood upon their feet to give +her greeting. Never did woman show so queenly to men's sight as did +this lady riding to the hall. Passing sweet she was to see, passing +simple and gracious of manner, with softer eyes and a daintier face +than girl of mother born. The whole Court marvelled at her beauty, for +no spot or blemish might be found in her body. She was richly dressed +in a kirtle of vermeil silk, broidered with gold, and her mantle was +worth the spoil of a king's castle. Her palfrey was of good race, +and speedy; the harness and trappings upon him were worth a thousand +livres in minted coin. All men pressed about her, praising her face +and person, her simplicity and queenlihead. She came at slow pace +before the King, and dismounting from the palfrey, spoke very +courteously in this fashion. + +"Sire," said she, "hearken to me, and you, lord barons, give heed to +my pleading. You know the words Graelent spake to the King, in the +ears of men, when the Queen made herself a show before the lords, +saying that often had he seen a fairer lady. Very hasty and foolish +was his tongue, since he provoked the King to anger. But at least he +told the truth when he said that there is no dame so comely but that +very easily may be found one more sweet than she. Look now boldly upon +my face, and judge you rightly in this quarrel between the Queen and +me. So shall Sir Graelent be acquitted of this blame." + +Then gazing upon her, all the King's household, lord and lackey, +prince and page, cried with one voice that her favour was greater than +that of the Queen. The King himself gave judgment with his barons that +this thing was so; therefore Sir Graelent was acquitted of his blame, +and declared a free man. + +When judgment was given the lady took her leave of the King, and +attended by her four damsels departed straightway from the hall upon +her palfrey. Sir Graelent caused his white horse to be saddled, and +mounting, followed hotly after her through the town. Day after day +he rode in her track, pleading for pity and pardon, but she gave him +neither good words nor bad in answer. So far they fared that at last +they came to the forest, and taking their way through a deep wood rode +to the bank of a fair, clear stream. The lady set her palfrey to the +river, but when she saw that Graelent also would enter therein she +cried to him, + +"Stay, Graelent, the stream is deep, and it is death for you to +follow." + +Graelent took no heed to her words, but forced his horse to enter the +river, so that speedily the waters closed above his head. Then the +lady seized his bridle, and with extreme toil brought horse and rider +back again to land. + +"Graelent," said she, "you may not pass this river, however mightily +you pain yourself, therefore must you remain alone on this bank." + +Again the lady set her palfrey to the river, but Graelent could not +suffer to see her go upon her way alone. Again he forced his horse to +enter the water; but the current was very swift and the stream was +very deep, so that presently Graelent was torn from his saddle, and +being borne away by the stream came very nigh to drown. When the four +maidens saw his piteous plight they cried aloud to their lady, and +said, + +"Lady, for the love of God, take pity on your poor friend. See, how he +drowns in this evil case. Alas, cursed be the day you spake soft words +in his ear, and gave him the grace of your love. Lady, look how the +current hurries him to his death. How may your heart suffer him to +drown whom you have held so close! Aid him, nor have the sin on your +soul that you endured to let the man who loved you die without your +help." + +When the lady heard the complaint of her maidens, no longer could +she hide the pity she felt in her heart. In all haste she turned her +palfrey to the river, and entering the stream clutched her lover by +the belt. Thus they won together to the bank. There she stripped the +drowned man of his raiment, and wrapping him fast in her own dry +mantle cherished him so meetly that presently he came again to life. +So she brought him safely into her own land, and none has met Sir +Graelent since that day. + +But the Breton folk still hold firmly that Graelent yet liveth with +his friend. His destrier, when he escaped him from the perilous river, +grieved greatly for his master's loss. He sought again the mighty +forest, yet never was at rest by night or day. No peace might he find, +but ever pawed he with his hoofs upon the ground, and neighed so +loudly that the noise went through all the country round about. Many a +man coveted so noble a steed, and sought to put bit and bridle in his +mouth, yet never might one set hands upon him, for he would not suffer +another master. So each year in its season the forest was filled with +the cry and the trouble of this noble horse which might not find its +lord. + +This adventure of the good steed and of the stout knight, who went +to the land of faery with his love, was noised abroad throughout all +Brittany, and the Bretons made a Lay thereof which was sung in +the ears of many people, and was called a Lay of the Death of Sir +Graelent. + + + + +XVI + + +A STORY OF BEYOND THE SEA + +In times gone by there lived a Count of Ponthieu, who loved chivalry +and the pleasures of the world beyond measure, and moreover was a +stout knight and a gallant gentleman. In the self-same day there lived +a Count of St. Pol, who was lord of much land, and a right worthy man. +One grief he had, that there was no heir of his body; but a sister was +his, a prudent woman and a passing good gentlewoman, who was dame of +Dommare in Ponthieu. This lady had a son, Thibault by name, who was +heir to this County of St. Pol, but he was a poor man so long as his +uncle lived. He was a prudent knight, valiant and skilled with the +spear, noble and fair. Greatly was he loved and honoured of all honest +people, for he was of high race and gentle birth. + +The Count of Ponthieu, of whom the tale hath spoken, had to wife a +very worthy lady. He and his dame had but one child, a daughter, +very good and gracious, who increased with her days in favour and in +virtues; and the maid was of some sixteen years. The third year after +her birth her mother died, whereof she was sorely troubled and right +heavy. The Count, her father, took to himself another wife with no +long tarrying, a dame of gentle race and breeding. Of this lady he got +him quickly a son; very near was the boy to his father's heart. The +lad grew with his years in stature and in valour, and gave promise to +increase in all good qualities. + +The Count of Ponthieu marked my lord Thibault of Dommare. He summoned +the knight to his castle, and made him of his house for guerdon. When +Sir Thibault was of his fellowship he rejoiced greatly, for the Count +prospered in goods and in praise by reason of his servant's deeds. As +they came from a tournament on a day, the Count and my lord Thibault +together, the Count required of his companion and said, + +"Thibault, by the aid of God tell me truly which jewel of my crown +shines the fairest in your eyes!" + +"Sir," replied Messire Thibault, "I am only a beggar, but so help me +God, of all the jewels in your crown I love and covet none, save only +my demoiselle, your daughter." + +When he heard this thing the Count had great content. He laughed in +his heart and said, + +"Thibault, I will grant her to the beggar, if it be to her mind." + +"Sir," answered he, "thanks and gramercy. May God make it up to you." + +Then went the Count to his daughter, and said, + +"Fair daughter, I have promised you in marriage, so it go not against +your heart." + +"Sir," inquired the maid, "to whom?" + +"In the name of God, to a loyal man, and a true man, of whom much is +hoped; to a knight of my own household, Thibault of Dommare." + +"Dear sir," answered the maiden sweetly, "if your county were a +kingdom, and I were the king's only child, I would choose him as my +husband, and gladly give him all that I had." + +"Daughter," said the Count, "blessed be your pretty person, and the +hour that you were born." + +Thus was this marriage made. The Count of Ponthieu and the Count of +St. Pol were at the feast, and many another honourable man besides. +Great was the joy in which they met, fair was the worship, and +marvellous the delight. The bride and groom lived together in all +happiness for five years. This was their only sorrow, that it pleased +not our Lord Jesus Christ that they should have an heir to their +flesh. + +On a night Sir Thibault lay in his bed. He considered within himself +and said, + +"Lord, whence cometh it that I love this dame so fondly, and she me, +yet we may have no heir of our bodies to serve God and to do a little +good in the world?" + +Then he remembered my lord St. James, the Apostle of Spain, who gives +to the fervent supplicant that which rightly he desires. Earnestly, to +his own heart, he promised that he would walk a pilgrim in his way. +His wife lay sleeping at his side, but when she came from out her +sleep, he took her softly in his arms, and required of her that she +would bestow on him a gift. + +"Sir," said the lady, "what gift would you have?" + +"Wife," he made answer, "that you shall know when it is mine." + +"Husband," said she, "if it be mine to grant, I will give it you, +whatever the price." + +"Wife," he said, "I pray you to grant me leave to seek my lord St. +James the Apostle, that he may intercede with our Lord Jesus Christ to +bestow on us an heir of our flesh, whereby God may be served in this +world and Holy Church glorified." + +"Sir," cried the lady, "sweet and dear it is that you should crave +such bounty, and I grant the permission you desire right willingly." + +Deep and long was the tenderness that fell betwixt these twain. Thus +passed a day, and another day, and yet a third. On this third day it +chanced that they lay together in their bed, and it was night. Then +said the dame, + +"Husband, I pray and require of you a gift." + +"Wife," he replied, "ask, and I will give it you, if by any means I +can." + +"Husband," she said, "I require leave to come with you on this errand +and journey." + +When Messire Thibault heard this thing he was right sorrowful, and +said, + +"Wife, grievous would be the journey to your body, for the way is very +long, and the land right strange and perilous." + +Said she, + +"Husband, be not in doubt because of me. You shall be more hindered of +your squire than of your wife." + +"Dame," said he, "as God wills and as you wish." + +The days went, and these tidings were so noised abroad that the Count +of Ponthieu heard thereof. He commanded my lord Sir Thibault to his +house, and said, + +"Thibault, you are a vowed pilgrim, as I hear, and my daughter too!" + +"Sir," answered he, "that is verily and truly so." + +"Thibault," replied the Count, "as to yourself what pleases you is to +my mind also, but concerning my daughter that is another matter." + +"Sir," made answer Sir Thibault, "go she must, and I cannot deny her." + +"Since this is so," said the Count, "part when you will. Make ready +for the road your steeds, your palfreys, and the pack horses, and I +will give you riches and gear enough for the journey." + +"Sir," said Messire Thibault, "thanks and gramercy." + +Thus these pilgrims arrayed them, and sought that shrine with +marvellous joy. They fared so speedily upon the way, that at length +they came near to my lord St. James, by less than two days faring. +That night they drew to a goodly town. After they had eaten in the +hostel, Sir Thibault called for the host and inquired of him the road +for the morrow, how it ran, and whether it were smooth. + +"Fair sir," replied the innkeeper to the knight, "at the gate of this +town you will find a little wood. Beyond the wood a strong smooth road +runs for the whole day's journey." + +Hearing this they asked no more questions, but the beds being laid +down, they went to their rest. The morrow broke full sweetly. The +pilgrims rose lightly from their beds as soon as it was day, and made +much stir and merriment. Sir Thibault rose also, since he might not +sleep, but his head was heavy. He therefore called his chamberlain, +and said, + +"Rise quickly, and bid the company to pack the horses and go their +way. Thou shalt remain with me, and make ready our harness, for I am a +little heavy and disquieted." + +The chamberlain made known to the sergeants the pleasure of their +lord, so that presently they took the road. In no great while Messire +Thibault and his dame got them from the bed, and arraying their +persons, followed after their household. The chamberlain folded the +bed linen, and it was yet but dawn, though warm and fair. The three +went forth through the gate of the city, those three together, with no +other companion save God alone, and drew near to the forest. When they +came close they found two roads, the one good, the other ill; so that +Sir Thibault said to his chamberlain, + +"Put spurs to your horse, and ride swiftly after our people. Bid them +await our coming, for foul it is for lady and knight to pass through +this wood with so little company." + +The servitor went speedily, and Messire Thibault entered the forest. +He drew rein beside the two roads, for he knew not which to follow. + +"Wife," he said, "which way is ours?" + +"Please God, the good," she answered. + +Now in this wood were robbers, who spoiled the fair way, and made wide +and smooth the false, so that pilgrims should mistake and wander from +the path. Messire Thibault lighted from his horse. He looked from one +to the other, and finding the wrong way broader and more smooth than +the true, he cried, + +"Wife, come now; in the name of God, this." + +They had proceeded along this road for some quarter of a mile when the +path grew strict and narrow, and boughs made dark the way. + +"Wife," said the knight, "I fear that we fare but ill." + +When he had thus spoken he looked before him, and marked four armed +thieves, seated on four strong horses, and each bore lance in hand. +Thereupon he glanced behind him, and, lo, four other robbers, armed +and set in ambush, so he said, + +"Dame, be not affrighted of aught that you may see from now." + +Right courteously Sir Thibault saluted the robbers in his path, but +they gave no answer to his greeting. Afterwards he sought of them +what was in their mind, and one replied that he should know anon. +The thief, who had thus spoken, drew towards my lord Thibault, with +outstretched sword, thinking to smite him in the middle. Messire +Thibault saw the blow about to fall, and it was no marvel if he feared +greatly. He sprang forward nimbly, as best he might, so that the +glaive smote the air. Then as the robber staggered by, Sir Thibault +seized him fiercely, and wrested the sword from his hand. The knight +advanced stoutly against those three from whom the thief had come. He +struck the foremost amidst the bowels, so that he perished miserably. +Then he turned and went again to that one who had first come against +him with the sword, and slew him also. Now it was decreed of God that +after the knight had slain three of this company of robbers, that +the five who were left, encompassed him round about, and killed his +palfrey. Sir Thibault tumbled flat upon his back, although he was not +wounded to his hurt. Since he had neither sword nor other harness +he could do no more. The thieves therefore stripped him to his very +shirt, his boots and hosen, and binding him hand and foot with a +baldrick, cast him into a thorn bush, right thick and sharp. When +they had done this they hastened to the lady. From her they took her +palfrey and her vesture, even to the shift. Passing fair was the lady; +she wept full piteously, and never was dame more sorrowful than she. +Now one of these bold robbers stared upon the lady, and saw that she +was very fair. He spoke to his companions in this fashion, + +"Comrades, I have lost my brother in this broil. I will take this +woman for his blood money." + +But the others made answer, + +"I, too, have lost my kin. I claim as much as you, and my right is +good as yours." + +So said a third, and a fourth, and a fifth. Then spake yet another. + +"In keeping of the lady will be found neither peace nor profit. Rather +let us lead her from here within the forest, there do our pleasure +upon her, and then put her again upon the path, so that she may go her +way." + +Thus they did as they had devised together, and left her on the road. + +Right sick at heart was Messire Thibault when he saw her so entreated, +but nothing could he do. He bore no malice against his wife by reason +of that which had befallen, for well he knew that it, was by force, +and not according to her will. When he saw her again, weeping bitterly +and altogether shamed, he called to her, and said, + +"Wife, for God's love unloose me from these bonds, and deliver me from +the torment that I suffer, for these thorns are sharper than I can +endure." + +The lady hastened to the place where Sir Thibault lay, and marked a +sword flung behind the bush, belonging to one of those felons that +were slain. She took the glaive, and went towards her lord, filled +full of wrath and evil thoughts because of what had chanced to her. +She feared greatly lest her husband should bear malice for that which +he had seen, reproaching her upon a day, and taunting her for what was +past. She said, + +"Sir, you are out of your pain already." + +She raised the sword, and came towards her husband, thinking to strike +him midmost the body. When he marked the falling glaive he deemed that +his day had come, for he was a naked man, clad in nought but his shirt +and hosen. He trembled so sorely that his bonds were loosed, and the +lady struck so feebly that she wounded him but little, severing that +baldrick with which his hands were made fast. Thereat the knight brake +the cords about his legs, and leaping upon his feet, cried, "Dame, +by the grace of God it is not to-day that you shall slay me with the +sword." + +Then she made answer, "Truly, sir, the sorer grief is mine." + +Sir Thibault took the sword, and set it again in the sheath, +afterwards he put his hand upon the lady's shoulder, and brought her +back by the path they had fared. At the fringe of the woodland he +found a large part of his fellowship, who were come to meet him. When +these saw their lord and lady so spoiled and disarrayed they inquired +of them, "Sir, who hath put you in this case?" + +He set them by, saying that they had fallen amongst felons who had +done them much mischief. + +Mightily the sergeants lamented; but presently they fetched raiment +from the packs, and arrayed them, for enough they had and to spare. So +they climbed into the saddle, and continued their journey. + +They rode that day, nor for aught that had chanced did Messire +Thibault show sourer countenance to the lady. At nightfall they came +to a goodly town, and there took shelter in an inn. Messire Thibault +sought of his host if there was any convent of nuns in those parts +where a lady might repose her. The host made answer to him, + +"Sir, you are served to your wish. Just beyond the walls is a right +fair religious house, with many holy women." + +On the morrow Messire Thibault went to this house, and heard Mass. +Afterwards he spoke to the Abbess and her chapter, praying that he +might leave his lady in their charge, until his return; and this they +accorded very willingly. Messire Thibault bestowed the lady in this +convent, with certain of his house to do her service, and went his way +to bring his pilgrimage to a fair end. When he had knelt before the +shrine, and honoured the Saint, he came again to the convent and the +lady. He gave freely of his wealth to the house, and taking to himself +his wife, returned with her to their own land, in the same joy and +honour as he had brought her forth, save only that they lay not +together. + +Great was the gladness of the folk of that realm when Sir Thibault +returned to his home. The Count of Ponthieu, the father of his wife +was there, and there, too, was his uncle the Count of St. Pol. Many +worthy and valiant gentlemen came for his welcome, and a fair company +of dames and maidens likewise honoured the lady. That day the Count +of Ponthieu sat at meat with my lord Thibault, and ate from the same +dish, the two together. Then it happed that the Count spake to him, + +"Thibault, fair son, he who journeys far hears many a strange matter +and sees many strange sights, which are hidden from those who sit over +the fire. Tell me therefore, of your favour, something of all you have +seen and heard since you went from amongst us." + +Messire Thibault answered shortly that he knew no tale worth the +telling. The Count would take no denial, but plagued him so sorely, +begging him of his courtesy to tell over some adventure, that at the +last he was overborne. + +"Sir, I will narrate a story, since talk I must; but at least let it +be in your private ear, if you please, and not for the mirth of all." + +The Count replied that his pleasure was the same. After meat, when men +had eaten their fill, the Count rose in his chair, and taking my lord +Thibault by the hand, entreated, + +"Tell me now, I pray, that which it pleases you to tell, for there are +few of the household left in hall." + +Then Messire Thibault began to relate that which chanced to a knight +and a dame, even as it has been rehearsed before you in this tale; +only he named not the persons to whom this lot was appointed. The +Count, who was wise and sober of counsel, inquired what the knight had +done with the lady. Thibault made answer that the knight had brought +the lady back by the way she went, with the same joy and worship as he +led her forth, save only that they slept not together. + +"Thibault," said the Count, "your knight walked another road than I +had trod. By my faith in God and my love for you, I had hanged this +dame by her tresses to a tree. The laces of her gown would suffice if +I could find no other cord." + +"Sir," said Messire Thibault, "you have but my word. The truth can +only be assured if the lady might bear witness and testify with her +own mouth." + +"Thibault," said the Count, "know you the name of this knight?" + +"Sir," cried Messire Thibault, "I beg you again to exempt me from +naming the knight to whom this sorrow befell. Know of a truth that his +name will bring no profit." + +"Thibault," said the Count, "it is my pleasure that his name should +not be hid." + +"Sir," answered Thibault, "tell I must, as you will not acquit me; but +I take you to witness that I speak only under compulsion, since gladly +I would have kept silence, had this been your pleasure, for in the +telling there is neither worship nor honour." + +"Thibault," replied the Count, "without more words I would know +forthwith who was the knight to whom this adventure chanced. By the +faith that you owe to your God and to me, I conjure you to tell me his +name, since it is in your mind." + +"Sir," replied Messire Thibault, "I will answer by the faith I owe +my God and you, since you lay this charge upon me. Know well, and be +persuaded, that I am the knight on whom this sorrow lighted. Hold it +for truth that I was sorely troubled and sick of heart. Be assured +that never before have I spoken to any living man about the business, +and moreover that gladly would I have held my peace, had such been +your will." + +When the Count heard this adventure he was sore astonied, and +altogether cast down. He kept silence for a great space, speaking +never a word. At the last he said, "Thibault, was it indeed my child +who did this thing?" + +"Sir, it is verily and truly so." + +"Thibault," said the Count, "sweet shall be your vengeance, since you +have given her again to my hand." + +Because of his exceeding wrath the Count sent straightway for his +daughter, and demanded of her if those things were true of which +Messire Thibault had spoken. She inquired of the accusation, and her +father answered, "That you would have slain him with the sword, even +as he has told me?" + +"Sir, of a surety." + +"And wherefore would you slay your husband?" + +"Sir, for reason that I am yet heavy that he is not dead." + +When the Count heard the lady speak in this fashion, he answered her +nothing, but suffered in silence until the guests had departed. After +these were gone, the Count came on a day to Rue-sur-Mer, and Messire +Thibault with him, and the Count's son. With them also went the lady. +Then the Count caused a ship to be got ready, very stout and speedy, +and he made the dame to enter in the boat. He set also on the ship an +untouched barrel, very high and strong. These three lords climbed into +the nave, with no other company, save those sailors who should labour +at the oar. The Count commanded the mariners to put the ship to sea, +and all marvelled greatly as to what he purposed, but there was none +so bold as to ask him any questions. When they had rowed a great way +from the land, the Count bade them to strike the head from out the +barrel. He took that dame, his own child, who was so dainty and so +fair, and thrust her in the tun, whether she would or whether she +would not. This being done he caused the cask to be made fast again +with staves and wood, so that the water might in no manner enter +therein. Afterwards he dragged the barrel to the edge of the deck, and +with his own hand cast it into the sea, saying, + +"I commend thee to the wind and waves." + +Passing heavy was Messire Thibault at this, and the lady's brother +also, and all who saw. They fell at the Count's feet, praying him of +his grace that she might be delivered from the barrel. So hot was his +wrath that he would not grant their prayer, for aught that they might +do or say. They therefore left him to his rage, and turning to the +Heavenly Father, besought our Lord Jesus Christ that of His most sweet +pity He would have mercy on her soul, and give her pardon for her +sins. + +The ship came again to land, leaving the lady in sore peril and +trouble, even as the tale has told you. But our Lord Jesus Christ, who +is Lord and Father of all, and desireth not the death of a sinner, but +rather that he should turn from his wickedness and live--as each day +He showeth us openly by deed, by example and by miracle--sent succour +to this lady, even as you shall hear. For a ship from Flanders, laden +with merchandise, marked this barrel drifting at the mercy of winds +and waters, before ever the Count and his companions were come ashore. +One of the merchants said to his comrades, + +"Friends, behold a barrel drifting in our course. If we may reach it, +perchance we may find it to our gain." + +This ship was wont to traffic with the Saracens in their country, so +the sailors rowed towards the barrel, and partly by cunning and partly +by strength, at the last got it safely upon the deck. The merchants +looked long at the cask. They wondered greatly what it could be, and +wondering, they saw that the head of the barrel was newly closed. They +opened the cask, and found therein a woman at the point of death, for +air had failed her. Her body was gross, her visage swollen, and the +eyes started horribly from her head. When she breathed the fresh air +and felt the wind blow upon her, she sighed a little, so that the +merchants standing by, spoke comfortably to her, but she might not +answer them a word. In the end, heart and speech came again to her. +She spoke to the chapmen and the sailors who pressed about her, and +much she marvelled how she found herself amongst them. When she +perceived that she was with merchants and Christian men she was the +more easy, and fervently she praised Jesus Christ in her heart, +thanking Him for the loving kindness which had kept her from death. +For this lady was altogether contrite in heart, and earnestly desired +to amend her life towards God, repenting the trespass she had done +to others, and fearing the judgment that was rightly her due. The +merchants inquired of the lady whence she came, and she told them the +truth, saying that she was a miserable wretch and a poor sinner, as +they could see for themselves. She related the cruel adventure which +had chanced to her, and prayed them to take pity on a most unhappy +lady, and they answered that mercy they would show. So with meat and +drink her former beauty came to her again. + +Now this merchant ship fared so far that she came to the land of the +Paynims, and cast anchor in the port of Aumarie. Galleys of these +Saracens came to know their business, and they answered that they were +traffickers in divers merchandise in many a realm. They showed them +also the safe conduct they carried of princes and mighty lords that +they might pass in safety through their countries to buy and sell +their goods. The merchants got them to land in this port, taking the +lady with them. They sought counsel one of the other to know what it +were best to do with her. One was for selling her as a slave, but his +companion proposed to give her as a sop to the rich Soudan of Aumarie, +that their business should be the less hindered. To this they all +agreed. They arrayed the lady freshly in broidered raiment, and +carried her before the Soudan, who was a lusty young man. He accepted +their gift, receiving the lady with a right glad heart, for she was +passing fair. The Soudan inquired of them as to who she was. + +"Sire," answered the merchants, "we know no more than you, but +marvellous was the fashion in which she came to our hands." + +The gift was so greatly to the Soudan's mind that he served the +chapmen to the utmost of his power. He loved the lady very tenderly, +and entreated her in all honour. He held and tended her so well, that +her sweet colour came again to her, and her beauty increased beyond +measure. The Soudan sought to know by those who had the gift of +tongues as to the lady's home and race, but these she would not reveal +to any. He was the more thoughtful therefore, because he might see +that she was a dame of birth and lineage. He inquired of her as to +whether she were a Christian woman, promising that if she would deny +her faith, he would take her as his wife, since he was yet unwed. The +lady saw clearly that it were better to be converted by love than +perforce; so she answered that her religion was to do her master's +pleasure. When she had renounced her faith, and rejected the Christian +law, the Soudan made her his dame according to the use and wont of +this country of the Paynim. He held her very dear, cherishing her in +all honour, for his love waxed deeper as the days wore on. + +In due time it was with this lady after the manner of women, and she +came to bed of a son. The Soudan rejoiced greatly, being altogether +merry and content. The lady, for her part, lived in fair fellowship +with the folk of her husband's realm. Very courteous was she, and +very serviceable, so that presently she was instructed in the Saracen +tongue. In no long while after the birth of her son she conceived of +a maid, who in the years that befell grew passing sweet and fair, and +richly was she nurtured as became the daughter of so high a prince. +Thus for two years and a half the lady dwelt with the Paynim in much +softness and delight. + +Now the story keeps silence as to the lady and the Soudan, her +husband, till later, as you may hear, and returns to the Count of +Ponthieu, the son of the Count, and to my lord Thibault of Dommare, +who were left grieving for the dame who was flung into the sea, as you +have heard, nor knew aught of her tidings, but deemed that she were +rather dead than alive. Now tells the story--and the truth bears +witness to itself and is its own confirmation--that the Count was in +Ponthieu, together with his son, and Messire Thibault. Very heavy was +the Count, for in no wise could he get his daughter from his mind, +and grievously he lamented the wrong that he had done her. Messire +Thibault dared not take to himself another wife, because of the +anguish of his friend. The son of the Count might not wed also; +neither durst he to become knight, though he was come to an age when +such things are greatly to a young man's mind. + +On a day the Count considered deeply the sin that he had committed +against his own flesh. He sought the Archbishop of Rheims in +confession, and opened out his grief, telling in his ear the crime +that he had wrought. He determined to seek those holy fields beyond +the sea, and sewed the Cross upon his mantle. When Messire Thibault +knew that his lord, the Count, had taken the Cross, he confessed him, +and did likewise. And when the Count's son was assured of the purpose +of his sire and of Messire Thibault, whom he loved dearly, he took the +Cross with them. Passing heavy was the Count to mark the Sign upon his +son's raiment. + +"Fair son, what is this you have done; for now the land remains +without a lord!" + +The son answered, and said, "Father, I wear the Sign first and +foremost for the love of God; afterwards for the saving of my soul, +and by reason that I would serve and honour Him to the utmost of my +power, so long as I have life in my body." + +The Count put his realm in ward full wisely. He used diligence in +making all things ready, and bade farewell to his friends. Messire +Thibault and the son of the Count ordered their business, and the +three set forth together, with a fair company. They came to that holy +land beyond the sea, safe of person and of gear. There they made +devout pilgrimage to every place where they were persuaded it was meet +to go, and God might be served. When the Count had done all that +he was able, he deemed that there was yet one thing to do. He gave +himself and his fellowship to the service of the Temple for one year; +and at the end of this term he purposed to seek his country and his +home. He sent to Acre, and made ready a ship against his voyage. He +took his leave of the Knights Templar, and other lords of that land, +and greatly they praised him for the worship that he had brought them. +When the Count and his company were come to Acre they entered in the +ship, and departed from the haven with a fair wind. But little was +their solace. For when they drew to the open sea a strong and horrible +tempest sprang suddenly upon them, so that the sailors knew not where +they went, and feared each hour that all would be drowned. So piteous +was their plight that, with ropes, they bound themselves one to +another, the son to the father, the uncle to the nephew, according as +they stood. The Count, his son, and Messire Thibault for their part, +fastened themselves together, so that the same end should chance to +all. In no long time after this was done they saw land, and inquired +of the shipmen whither they were come. The mariners answered that this +realm belonged to the Paynim, and was called the Land of Aumarie. They +asked of the Count, + +"Sire, what is your will that we do? If we seek the shore, doubtless +we shall be made captives, and fall into the hands of the Saracen." + +The Count made answer, "Not my will, but the will of Jesus Christ be +done. Let the ship go as He thinks best. We will commit our bodies and +our lives to His good keeping, for a fouler and an uglier death we +cannot die, than to perish in this sea." + +They drove with the wind along the coast of Aumarie, and the galleys +and warships of the Saracens put out to meet them. Be assured that +this was no fair meeting, for the Paynims took them and led them +before the Soudan, who was lord of that realm. There they gave him +the goods and the bodies of these Christians as a gift. The Soudan +sundered this fair fellowship, setting them in many places and in +divers prisons; but since the Count, his son, and Messire Thibault +were so securely bound together, he commanded that they should be cast +into a dungeon by themselves, and fed upon the bread of affliction and +the water of affliction. So it was done, even as he commanded. In this +prison they lay for a space, till such time as the Count's son fell +sick. His sickness was so grievous that the Count and Messire Thibault +feared greatly that this sorrow was to death. + +Now it came to pass that the Soudan held high Court because of the day +of his birth, for such was the custom of the Saracens. After they had +well eaten, the Saracens stood before the Soudan, and said, + +"Sire, we require of you our right." + +He inquired of what right they were speaking, and they answered, + +"Sire, a Christian captive to set as a mark for our arrows." + +When the Soudan heard this he gave no thought to such a trifle, but +made reply, + +"Get you to the prison, and take out that captive who has the least of +life in him." + +The Paynim hastened to the dungeon, and brought forth the Count, +bearded, unkempt and foredone. The Soudan marked his melancholy case, +so he said to them, "This man has not long to live; take him hence, +and do your will on him." + +The wife of the Soudan, of whom you have heard, the daughter of this +very Count, was in the hall, when they brought forth her father to +slay him. Immediately that her eyes fell upon him the blood in her +veins turned to water; not so much that she knew him as her sire, but +rather that Nature tugged at her heart strings. Then spake the dame to +the Soudan, "Husband, I, too, am French, and would gladly speak with +this poor wretch ere he die, if so I may." + +"Wife," answered the Soudan, "truly, yes; it pleases me well." + +The lady came to the Count. She took him apart, and bidding the +Saracens fall back, she inquired of him whence he was. + +"Lady, I am from the kingdom of France, of a county that men call +Ponthieu." + +When the lady heard this her bowels were moved. Earnestly she demanded +his name and race. + +"Of a truth, lady, I have long forgotten my father's house, for I have +suffered such pain and anguish since I departed, that I would rather +die than live. But this you may know, that I--even the man who speaks +to you--was once the Count of Ponthieu." + +The lady hearkened to this, but yet she made no sign. She went from +the Count, and coming to the Soudan, said, + +"Husband, give me this captive as a gift, if such be your pleasure. He +knows chess and draughts and many fair tales to bring solace to the +hearer. He shall play before you, and we will make our pastime of his +skill." + +"Wife," answered the Soudan, "I grant him to you very willingly; do +with him as you wish." + +The lady took the captive, and bestowed him in her chamber. The +gaolers sought another in his stead, and brought forth my lord +Thibault, the husband to the dame. He came out in tatters, for he was +clothed rather in his long hair and great beard, than in raiment. His +body was lean and bony, and he seemed as one who had endured pain and +sorrow enough, and to spare. When the lady saw him she said to the +Soudan, + +"Husband, with this one also would I gladly speak, if so I may." + +"Wife," answered the Soudan, "it pleases me well." + +The lady came to my lord Thibault, and inquired of him whence he was. + +"Lady, I am of the realm of that ancient gentleman who was taken from +prison before me. I had his daughter to wife, and am his knight." + +The lady knew well her lord, so she returned to the Soudan, and said +to him, "Husband, great kindness will you show me, if you give me this +captive also." + +"Wife," said the Soudan, "I grant him to you very willingly." + +She thanked him sweetly, and bestowed the gift in her chamber, with +the other. + +The archers hastened together, and drawing before the Soudan said, +"Sire, you do us wrong, for the day is far spent." + +They went straight to the prison, and brought forth the son of the +Count, shagged and filthy, as one who had not known of water for many +a day. He was a young man, so young that his beard had not come on +him, but for all his youth he was so thin and sick and weak, that +he scarce could stand upon his feet. When the lady saw him she had +compassion upon him. She came to him asking whose son he was and of +his home, and he replied that he was son to that gentleman, who was +first brought out of the dungeon. She knew well that this was her +brother, but she made herself strange unto him. + +"Husband," said she to the Soudan, "verily you will shew kindness to +your wife beyond measure if you grant me this captive. He knows chess +and draughts and other delights passing fair to see and hear." + +And the Soudan made answer, "Wife, by our holy law if they were a +hundred I would give them all to you gladly." + +The lady thanked him tenderly, and bestowed the captive swiftly in +her chamber. The Saracens went again to the prison and fetched out +another, but the lady left him to his fate, when she looked upon his +face. So he won a martyr's crown, and our Lord Jesus Christ received +his soul. As for the dame, she hid herself from the sight, for it gave +her little joy, this slaying of the Christian by the Paynims. + +The lady came to her chamber, and at her coming the captives would +have got them to their feet, but she made signs that they should +remain seated. Drawing close she made gestures of friendship. The +Count, who was very shrewd, asked at this, "Lady, when will they slay +us?" + +She answered that their time had not yet come. + +"Lady," said he, "the sorer grief is ours, for we are so anhungered, +that for a little our souls would leave our bodies." + +The lady went out, and bade meat to be made ready. This she carried +in, giving to each a little, and to each a little drink. When they had +eaten, they had yet greater hunger than before. In this manner she fed +them, little by little, ten times a day, for she deemed that should +they eat to their desire, they would die of repletion. For this reason +she caused them to break their fast temperately. Thus the good lady +dealt with them for the first seven days, and at nights, by her grace, +they lay softly at their ease. She did away with their rags, and clad +them in seemly apparel. When the week was done she set before them +meat and drink to their heart's desire, so that their strength +returned to them again. They had chess and draughts, and played these +games to their great content. The Soudan was often with them. He +watched the play, and took pleasure in their gladness. But the lady +refrained, so that none might conceive, either by speech or fashion, +that he had known her before. + +Now a short while after this matter of the captives, the story tells +that the Soudan had business enough of his own, for a mighty Sultan +laid waste his realm, and sought to do him much mischief. To avenge +his wrong the Soudan commanded his vassals from every place, and +assembled a great host. When the lady knew this, she entered the +chamber where the captives lay, and sitting amidst them lifted her +hand, and said, "Sirs, you have told me somewhat of your business; now +will I be assured whether you are true men or not. You told me that in +your own land you were once the Count of Ponthieu, that this man was +wedded to your daughter, and that this other was your son. Know that I +am a Saracen, having the science of astrology; so I tell you plainly +that you were never so near to a shameful death, as you are now, if +you hide from me the truth. What chanced to your daughter, the wife of +this knight?" + +"Lady," replied the Count, "I deem her to be dead." + +"How came she to her death?" + +"Certes, lady," said the Count, "because for once she received her +deserts." + +"Tell me of these deservings," said the dame. + +Then the Count began to tell, with tears, of how she was wedded, but +was yet a barren wife; how the good knight vowed pilgrimage to my lord +St. James in Galicia, and how the lady prayed that she might go with +him, which prayer he granted willingly. He told how they went their +way with joy, till alone, in the deep wood, they met with sturdy +felons who set upon them. The good knight might do nothing against so +many, for he was a naked man; but despite of all, he slew three, and +five were left, who killed his palfrey, and spoiling him to the very +shirt, bound him hands and feet, and flung him into a thorn bush. They +spoiled the lady also and stole her palfrey from her. When they looked +upon her, and saw that she was fair, each would have taken her. +Afterwards they accorded that she should be to all, and having +had their will in her despite, they departed and left her weeping +bitterly. This the good knight saw, so he besought her courteously to +unloose his hands, that they might get them from the wood. But the +lady marked a sword belonging to one of these felons that were slain. +She handselled it, and hastening where he lay, cried in furious +fashion, "You are unbound already." Then she raised the naked sword, +and struck at his body. But by the loving kindness of God, and the +vigour of the knight, she but sundered the bonds that bound him, so +that he sprang forth, and wounded as he was, cried, "Dame, by the +grace of God it is not to-day that you shall kill me with the sword." + +At this word that fair lady, the wife of the Soudan, spoke suddenly, +and said, + +"Ah, sir, you have told the tale honestly, and very clear it is why +she would have slain him." + +"For what reason, lady?" + +"Certes," answered she, "for reason of the great shame which had +befallen her." + +When Messire Thibault heard this he wept right tenderly, and said, +"Alas, what part had she in this wickedness! May God keep shut the +doors of my prison if I had shown her the sourer face therefore, +seeing that her will was not in the deed." + +"Sir," said the lady, "she feared your reproach. But tell me which is +the more likely, that she be alive or dead?" + +"Lady," said Thibault, "we know not what to think." + +"Well I know," cried the Count, "of the great anguish we have +suffered, by reason of the sin I sinned against her." + +"If it pleased God that she were yet living," inquired the lady, "and +tidings were brought which you could not doubt, what would you have to +say?" + +"Lady," said the Count, "I should be happier than if I were taken from +this prison, or were granted more wealth than ever I have had in my +life." + +"Lady," said Messire Thibault, "so God give me no joy of my heart's +dearest wish, if I had not more solace than if men crowned me King of +France." + +"Certes, lady," said the dansellon, who was her brother, "none could +give or promise me aught so sweet, as the life of that sister, who was +so fair and good." + +When the lady hearkened to these words her heart yearned with +tenderness. She praised God, rendering Him thanks, and said to them, +"Be sure that you speak with unfeigned lips." + +And they answered and said that they spoke with unfeigned lips. Then +the lady began to weep with happy tears, and said to them, "Sir, now +may you truly say that you are my father, for I am that daughter on +whom you wrought such bitter justice. And you, Messire Thibault, are +my lord and husband; and you, sir dansellon, are my brother." + +Then she rehearsed to them in what manner she was found of the +chapmen, and how they bestowed her as a gift on the Soudan. They were +very glad, and rejoiced mightily, humbling themselves before her, but +she forbade them to show their mirth, saying, "I am a Saracen, and +have renounced the faith; otherwise I should not be here, but were +dead already. Therefore I pray and beseech you as you love your lives +and would prolong your days, whatever you may see or hear, not to show +me any affection, but keep yourselves strange to me, and leave me to +unravel the coil. Now I will tell why I have revealed myself to you. +My husband, the Soudan, rides presently to battle. I know well, +Messire Thibault, that you are a hardy knight, and I will pray the +Soudan to take you with him. If ever you were brave, now is the time +to make it plain. See to it that you do him such service that he have +no grievance against you." + +The lady departed forthwith, and coming before the Soudan, said, +"Husband, one of my captives desires greatly to go with you, if such +be your pleasure." + +"Wife," answered he, "I dare not put myself in his hand, for fear that +he may do me a mischief." + +"Husband, he will not dare to be false, since I hold his companions as +hostages." + +"Wife," said he, "I will take him with me, because of your counsel, +and I will deliver him a good horse and harness, and all that warrior +may require." + +The lady returned straightway to the chamber. She said to Messire +Thibault, "I have persuaded the Soudan to bring you to the battle. Act +therefore manfully." + +At this her brother knelt at her knee, praying her to plead with the +Soudan that he might go also. + +"That I may not do," said she, "or the thing will be too clear." + +The Soudan ordered his business, and went forth, Messire Thibault +being with him, and came upon the enemy. According to his word, the +Soudan had given to the knight both horse and harness. By the will of +Jesus Christ, who faileth never such as have faith and affiance in +Him, Messire Thibault did such things in arms that in a short space +the enemies of the Soudan were put under his feet. The Soudan rejoiced +greatly at his knight's deeds and his victory, and returned bringing +many captives with him. He went straight to the dame, and said, "Wife, +by my law I have naught but good to tell of your prisoner, for he has +done me faithful service. So he deny his faith, and receive our holy +religion, I will grant him broad lands, and find him a rich heiress in +marriage." + +"Husband, I know not, but I doubt if he will do this thing." + +No more was spoken of the matter; but the lady set her house in order, +as best she was able, and coming to her captives said, "Sirs, go +warily, so that the Saracens see nothing of what is in our mind; for, +please God, we shall yet win to France and the county of Ponthieu." + +On a day the lady came before the Soudan. She went in torment, and +lamented very grievously. + +"Husband, it is with me as it was before. Well I know it, for I have +fallen into sore sickness, and my food has no relish in my mouth, no, +not since you went to the battle." + +"Wife, I am right glad to hear that you are with child, although your +infirmity is very grievous unto me. Consider and tell me those things +that you deem will be to your healing, and I will seek and procure +them whatever the cost." + +When the lady heard this, her heart beat lightly in her breast. She +showed no semblance of joy, save this only, that she said, "Husband, +my old captive tells me that unless I breathe for awhile such air as +that of my native land, and that quickly, I am but dead, for in nowise +have I long to live." + +"Wife," said the Soudan, "your death shall not be on my conscience. +Consider and show me where you would go, and there I will cause you to +be taken." + +"Husband, it is all one to me, so I be out of this city." + +Then the Soudan made ready a ship, both fair and strong, and garnished +her plenteously with wines and meats. + +"Husband," said the lady to the Soudan, "I will take of my captives +the aged and the young, that they may play chess and draughts at my +bidding, and I will carry with me my son for my delight." + +"Wife," answered he, "your will is my pleasure. But what shall be done +with the third captive?" + +"Husband, deal with him after your desire." + +"Wife, I desire that you take him on the ship; for he is a brave man, +and will keep you well, both on land and sea, if you have need of his +sword." + +The lady took leave of the Soudan, bidding him farewell, and urgently +he prayed her to return so soon as she was healed of her sickness. The +stores being put upon the ship and all things made ready, they entered +therein and set sail from the haven. With a fair wind they went very +swiftly, so that the shipmen sought the lady, saying, "Madam, this +wind is driving the boat to Brindisi. Is it your pleasure to take +refuge there, or to go elsewhere?" + +"Let the ship keep boldly on her course," answered the lady to them, +"for I speak French featly and other tongues also, so I will bring you +to a good end." + +They made such swift passage by day and by night, that according to +the will of Our Lord they came quickly to Brindisi. The ship cast +anchor safely in the harbour, and they lighted on the shore, being +welcomed gladly by the folk of that country. The lady, who was very +shrewd, drew her captives apart, and said, "Sirs, I desire you to +call to mind the pledge and the covenant you have made. I must now be +certain that you are true men, remembering your oaths and plighted +words. I pray you to let me know, by all that you deem of God, whether +you will abide or not by our covenant together; for it is yet not too +late to return to my home." + +They answered, "Lady, know beyond question that the bargain we have +made we will carry out loyally. By our faith in God and as christened +men we will abide by this covenant; so be in no doubt of our +assurance." + +"I trust you wholly," replied the lady; "but, sirs, see here my son, +whom I had of the Soudan, what shall we do with him?" + +"Lady, the boy is right welcome, and to great honour shall he come in +our own land." + +"Sirs," said the dame, "I have dealt mischievously with the Soudan, +for I have stolen my person from him, and the son who was so dear to +his heart." + +The lady went again to the shipmen, and lifting her hand, said to +them, "Sirs, return to the Soudan whence you came, and greet him with +this message. Tell him that I have taken from him my body and the son +he loved so well, that I might deliver my father, my lord, and my +brother from the prison where they were captive." + +When the sailors heard this they were very dolent, but there was +naught that they might do. They set sail for their own country, sad +and very heavy by reason of the lady, of the young lad, whom they +loved greatly, and of the captives who were escaped altogether from +their hand. + +For his part the Count arrayed himself meetly by grace of merchants +and Templars, who lent him gladly of their wealth. He abode in the +town, together with his fellowship, for their solace, till they made +them ready for the journey, and took the road to Rome. The Count +sought the Pontiff, and his company with him. Each confessed him +of the secrets of his heart, and when the Bishop heard thereof, +he accepted their devotion, and comforted them right tenderly. He +baptised the child, who was named William. He reconciled the lady with +Holy Church, and confirmed the lady and Messire Thibault her lord, in +their marriage bond, reknitting them together, giving penance to each, +and absolution for their sins. After this they made no long sojourn +in Rome, but took their leave of the Apostle who had honoured them so +greatly. He granted them his benison, and commended them to God. So +they went their way in great solace and delight, praising God and His +Mother, and all the calendar of saints, and rendering thanks for the +mercies which had been vouchsafed to them. Journeying thus they +came at last to the country of their birth, and were met by a fair +procession of bishops and abbots, monks and priests, who had desired +them fervently. But of all these welcomes they welcomed most gladly +her who was recovered from death, and had delivered her sire, her +lord, and her brother from the hands of the Paynim, even as you have +heard. There we leave them for awhile, and will tell you of the +shipmen and Saracens who had fared with them across the sea. + +The sailors and Saracens who had carried them to Brindisi, returned +as quickly as they were able, and with a fair wind cast anchor before +Aumarie. They got them to land, very sad and heavy, and told their +tidings to the Soudan. Right sorrowful was the Soudan, and neither for +time nor reason could he forget his grief. Because of this mischief he +loved that daughter the less who tarried with him, and showed her the +less courtesy. Nevertheless the maiden increased in virtue and in +wisdom, so that the Paynim held her in love and honour, praising her +for the good that was known of her. But now the story is silent as to +that Soudan who was so tormented by reason of the flight of his dame +and captives; and comes again to the Count of Ponthieu, who was +welcomed to his realm with such pomp and worship, as became a lord of +his degree. + +In no long while after his return the son of the Count was dubbed +knight, and rich was the feast. He became a knight both chivalrous and +brave. Greatly he loved all honourable men, and gladly he bestowed +fair gifts on the poor knights and poor gentlewomen of the country. +Much was he esteemed of lord and hind, for he was a worthy knight, +generous, valiant and debonair, proud only to his foes. Yet his days +on earth were but a span, which was the sorer pity, for he died +lamented of all. + +Now it befell that the Count held high Court, and many a knight and +lord sat with him at the feast. Amongst these came a very noble man +and knight, of great place, in Normandy, named my lord Raoul des +Preaux. This Raoul had a daughter, passing sweet and fair. The Count +spoke so urgently to Raoul and to the maiden's kin that a marriage +was accorded between William, his grandson, the son of the Soudan of +Aumarie, and the daughter of my lord Raoul, the heiress to all his +wealth. William wedded the damsel with every rich observance, and in +right of his wife this William became Lord of Preaux. + +For a long while the realm had peace from its foes. + +Messire Thibault dwelt with the lady, and had of her two sons, who +in later days were worthy gentlemen of great worship. The son of the +Count of Ponthieu, of whom we have spoken much and naught but good, +died shortly after, to the grief of all the land. The Count of St. Pol +was yet alive; therefore the two sons of my lord Thibault were heirs +to both these realms, and attained thereto in the end. That devout +lady, their mother, because of her contrite heart, gave largely to +the poor; and Messire Thibault, like the honourable gentleman he was, +abounded in good works so long as he was quick. + +Now it chanced that the daughter of the lady, who abode with the +Soudan her father, increased greatly in favour and in virtue. She was +called The Fair Captive, by reason that her mother had left her in +the Soudan's keeping, as you have heard. A certain brave Turk in the +service of the Soudan--Malakin of Baudas by name--saw this damsel, so +fair and gracious, and desired her dearly in his heart, because of the +good men told of her. He came before his master, and said to him, + +"Sire, in return for his labour your servant craves a gift." + +"Malakin," returned the Soudan, "what gift would you have?" + +"Sire, I would dare to tell it to your face, if only she were not so +high above my reach." + +The Sultan who was both shrewd and quick witted made reply, + +"Say out boldly what is in your mind, for I hold you dear, and +remember what you have done. If there is aught it beseems me to +grant--saving only my honour--be assured that it is yours." + +"Sire, well I know that your honour is without spot, nor would I seek +anything against it. I pray you to bestow on your servant--if so it be +your pleasure--my lady your daughter, for she is the gift I covet most +in all the world." + +The Soudan kept silence, and considered for a space. He knew well that +Malakin was both valiant and wise, and might easily come to great +honour and degree. Since the servant was worthy of his high desire, +the Soudan said, "By my law you have required of me a great thing, for +I love my daughter dearly, and have no other heir. You know well, and +it is the simple truth, that she comes of the best and bravest blood +in France, for her mother is the child of the Count of Ponthieu. But +since you too are valiant, and have done me loyal service, for my part +I will give her to you willingly, save only that it be to the maiden's +mind." + +"Sire," said Malakin, "I would not take her against her wish." + +The Soudan bade the girl be summoned. When she came, he said, "Fair +daughter, I have granted you in marriage, if it pleases you." + +"Sir," answered the maiden, "my pleasure is in your will." + +The Soudan took her by the hand, saying, "Take her, Malakin, the maid +is yours." + +Malakin received her with a glad heart, and wedded her according to +the Paynim rite, bringing her to his house right joyously, with the +countenance of all his friends. Afterwards he returned with her to his +own land. The Soudan escorted them upon their way, with such a fair +company of his household as seemed good to him. Then he bade farewell +to his child and her lord, and returned to his home. But a great part +of his fellowship he commanded to go with her for their service, +Malakin came back to his own land, where he was welcomed right gladly +of his friends, and served and honoured by all the folk of his realm. +He lived long and tenderly with his wife, neither were they childless, +as this story testifies. For of this lady, who was called the Fair +Captive, was born the mother of that courteous Turk, the Sultan +Saladin, an honourable, a wise, and a conquering lord. + + + + +XVII + + +THE CHATELAINE OF VERGI + +There are divers men who make a great show of loyalty, and pretend to +such discretion in the hidden things they hear, that at the end folk +come to put faith in them. When by their false seeming they have +persuaded the simple to open out to them their love and their deeds, +then they noise the matter about the country, and make it their song +and their mirth. Thus it chances that the lesser joy is his who has +bared to them his heart. For the sweeter the love, the more bitter is +the pang that lovers know, when each deems the other to have bruited +abroad the secret he should conceal. Oftentimes these blabbers do such +mischief with their tongue, that the love they spoil comes to its +close in sorrow and in care. This indeed happened in Burgundy to a +brave and worthy knight, and to the Lady of Vergi. This knight loved +his lady so dearly that she granted him her tenderness, on such +covenant as this--that the day he showed her favour to any, that very +hour he would lose the love and the grace she bestowed on him. To seal +this bond they devised together that the knight should come a days to +an orchard, at such hour as seemed good to his friend. He must remain +coy in his nook within the wall till he might see the lady's lapdog +run across the orchard. Then without further tarrying he should enter +her chamber, knowing full well she was alone, whom so fondly he +desired to greet. This he did, and in this fashion they met together +for a great while, none being privy to their sweet and stolen love, +save themselves alone. + +The knight was courteous and fair, and by reason of his courage was +right welcome to that Duke who was lord of Burgundy. He came and went +about the Court, and that so often that the Duchess set her mind upon +him. She cared so little to hide her thought, that had his heart not +been in another's keeping, he must surely have perceived in her eyes +that she loved him. But however tender her semblance the knight showed +no kindness in return, for he marked nothing of her inclination. +Passing troubled was the dame that he should treat her thus; so that +on a day she took him apart, and sought to make him of her counsel. + +"Sir, as men report, you are a brave and worthy knight, for the which +give God thanks. It would not be more than your deserts, if you had +for friend a lady in so high a place that her love would bring to you +both honour and profit. How richly could such a lady serve you!" + +"Lady," said he, "I have never yet had this in my thought." + +"By my faith," she answered, "it seems to me that the longer you wait, +the less is your hope. Perchance the lady will stoop very readily from +her throne, if you but kneel at her knee." + +The knight replied, "Lady, by my faith, I know little why you speak +such words, and I understand their meaning not at all. I am neither +duke nor count to dare to set my love in so high a seat. There is +nought in me to gain the love of so sovereign a dame, pain me how I +may." + +"Such things have been," said she, "and so may chance again. Many more +marvellous works have been wrought than this, and the day of miracles +is not yet past. Tell me, know you not yet that you have gained the +love of some high princess, even mine?" + +The knight made answer forthwith, "Lady, I know it not. I would desire +to have your love in a fair and honourable fashion; but may God keep +me from such love between us, as would put shame upon my lord. In no +manner, nor for any reason, will I enter on such a business as would +lead me to deal my true and lawful lord so shrewd and foul a wrong." + +Bitter at heart was the dame to see her love so scorned. + +"Fie upon you," she cried, "and who required of you any such thing?" + +"Ah, lady, to God be the praise; you have said enough to make your +meaning passing plain." + +The lady strove no more to show herself kind to him. Great was the +wrath and sharp the malice that she hid within her heart, and well she +purposed that, if she might, she would avenge herself speedily. All +the day she considered her anger. That night as she lay beside the +Duke she began to sigh, and afterwards to weep. Presently the Duke +inquired of her grief, bidding her show it him forthwith. + +"Certes," said the dame, "I make this great sorrow because no prince +can tell who is his faithful servant, and who is not. Often he gives +the more honour and wealth to those who are traitors rather than +friends, and sees nothing of their wrong." + +"In faith, wife," answered the Duke, "I know not why you speak these +words. At least I am free of such blame as this, for in nowise would I +nourish a traitor, if only a traitor I knew him to be." + +"Hate then this traitor," cried she,--and she named a name--"who gives +me no peace, praying and requiring me the livelong day that I should +grant him my love. For a great while he had been in this mind--as he +says--but did not dare to speak his thoughts. I considered the whole +matter, fair lord, and resolved to show it you at once. It is likely +enough to be true that he cherished this hope, for we have never heard +that he loves elsewhere. I entreat you in guerdon, to look well to +your own honour, since this, as you know, is your duty and right." + +Passing grievous was this business to the Duke. He answered to the +lady, + +"I will bring it to a head, and very quickly, as I deem." + +That night the Duke lay upon a bed of little ease. He could neither +sleep nor rest, by reason of that lord, his friend, who, he was +persuaded, had done him such bitter wrong as justly to have forfeited +his love. Because of this he kept vigil the whole night through. He +rose very early on the morrow, and bade him come whom his wife had put +to blame, although he had done nothing blameworthy. Then he took him +to task, man to man, when there were but these two together. + +"Certes," he said, "it is a heavy grief that you who are so comely +and brave, should yet have no honour in you. You have deceived me the +more, for I have long believed you to be a man of good faith, giving +loyalty, at least, to me, in return for the love I have given to you. +I know not how you can have harboured such a felon's wish, as to pray +and require the Duchess to grant you her grace. You are guilty of such +treachery that conduct more vile it would be far to seek. Get you +hence from my realm. You have my leave to part, and it is denied to +you for ever. If you return here it will be at your utmost peril, for +I warn you beforehand that if I lay hands upon you, you will die a +shameful death." + +When the knight heard this judgment, such wrath and mortification +were his that his members trembled beneath him. He called to mind his +friend, of whom he would have no joy, if he might not come and go and +sojourn in that realm from which the Duke had banished him. Moreover +he was sick at heart that his lord should deem him a disloyal traitor, +without just cause. He knew such sore discomfort that he held himself +as dead and betrayed. + +"Sire," said he, "for the love of God believe this never, neither +think that I have been so bold. To do that of which you wrongfully +charge me, has never entered my mind, not one day, nor for one single +hour. Who has told you this lie has wrought a great ill." + +"You gain nothing by such denials," answered the Duke, "for of a +surety the thing is true. I have heard from her own lips the very +guise and fashion in which you prayed and required her love, like the +envious traitor that you are. Many another word it may well be that +you spoke, as to which the lady of her courtesy keeps silence." + +"My lady says what it pleases her to say," replied the dolorous +knight, "and my denials are lighter than her word. Naught is there for +me to say; nothing is left for me to do, so that I may be believed +that this adventure never happened." + +"Happen it did, by my soul," said the Duke, remembering certain words +of his wife. Well he deemed that he might be assured of the truth, +if but the lady's testimony were true that this lord had never loved +otherwhere. Therefore the Duke said to the knight, "If you will pledge +your faith to answer truly what I may ask, I shall be certified by +your words whether or not you have done this deed of which I misdoubt +you." + +The knight had but one desire--to turn aside his lord's wrath, which +had so wrongfully fallen upon him. He feared only lest he should be +driven from the land where lodged the dame who was the closest to his +mind. Knowing nothing of what was in the Duke's thought, he considered +that his question could only concern the one matter; so he replied +that without fraud or concealment he would do as his lord had said. +Thus he pledged his faith, and the Duke accepted his affiance. + +When this was done the Duke made question, + +"I have loved you so dearly that at the bottom of my heart I cannot +believe you guilty of such shameless misdoing as the Duchess tells me. +I would not credit it a moment, if you yourself were not the cause of +my doubtfulness. From your face, the care you bestow upon your person, +and a score of trifles, any who would know, can readily see that you +are in love with some lady. Since none about the Court perceives +damsel or dame on whom you have set your heart, I ask myself whether +indeed it may not be my wife, who tells me that you have entreated her +for love. Nothing that any one may do can take this suspicion from my +mind, except you tell me yourself that you love elsewhere, making it +so plain that I am left without doubt that I know the naked truth. If +you refuse her name you will have broken your oath, and forth from my +realm you go as an outlawed man." + +The knight had none to give him counsel. To himself he seemed to stand +at the parting of two ways, both one and the other leading to death. +If he spoke the simple truth (and tell he must if he would not be a +perjurer) then was he as good as dead; for if he did such wrong as to +sin against the covenant with his lady and his friend, certainly he +would lose her love, so it came to her knowledge. But if he concealed +the truth from the Duke, then he was false to his oath, and had lost +both country and friend. But little he recked of country, so only he +might keep his Love, since of all his riches she was the most dear. +The knight called to heart and remembrance the fair joy and the solace +that were his when he had this lady between his arms. He considered +within himself that if by reason of his misdoing she came to harm, or +were lost to him, since he might not take her where he went, how could +he live without her. It would be with him also, as erst with the +Castellan of Couci, who having his Love fast only in his heart, told +over in his song, + + Ah, God, strong Love, I sit and weep alone, + Remembering the solace that was given; + The tender guise, the semblance that was shown + By her, my friend, my comrade, and my Heaven. + + When grief brings back the joy that was mine own, + I would the heart from out my breast were riven. + Ah, Lord, the sweet words hushed, the beauty flown; + Would God that I were dead, and low, and shriven. + +The knight was in anguish such as this, for he knew not whether to +make clear the truth, or to lie and be banished from the country. + +Whilst he was deep in thought, turning over in his mind what it were +best to do, tears rose in his heart and flowed from his eyes, so that +his face was wet, by reason of the sorrow that he suffered. The Duke +had no more mirth than the knight, deeming that his secret was so +heavy that he dared not make it plain. The Duke spoke swiftly to his +friend, + +"I see clearly that you fear to trust me wholly, as a knight should +trust his lord. If you confess your counsel privily to me, you cannot +think that I shall show the matter to any man. I would rather have my +teeth drawn one by one, than speak a word." + +"Ah," cried the knight, "for God's love, have pity, Sire. I know not +what I ought to say, nor what will become of me; but I would rather +die than lose what lose I shall if she only hears that you have the +truth, and that you heard it from my lips, whilst I am a living man." + +The Duke made answer, + +"I swear to you by my body and my soul, and on the faith and love I +owe you again by reason of your homage, that never in my life will I +tell the tale to any creature born, or even breathe a word or make a +sign about the business." + +With the tears yet running down his face the knight said to him, + +"Sire, right or wrong, now will I show my secret. I love your niece of +Vergi, and she loves me, so that no friends can love more fondly." + +"If you wish to be believed," replied the Duke, "tell me now, if any, +save you two alone, knows anything of this joy?" + +And the knight made answer to him, + +"Nay, not a creature in the world." + +Then said the Duke, + +"No love is so privy as that. If none has heard thereof, how do you +meet together, and how devise time and place?" + +"By my faith, Sire, I will tell you all, and keep back nothing, since +you know so much of our counsel." + +So he related the whole story of his goings to and fro within the +pleasaunce; of that first covenant with his friend, and of the office +of the little dog. + +Then said the Duke, + +"I require of you that I may be your comrade at such fair meeting. +When you go again to the orchard, I too, would enter therein, and +mark for myself the success of your device. As for my niece she shall +perceive naught." + +"Sire, if it be your will it is my pleasure also; save, only, that you +find it not heavy or burdensome. Know well that I go this very night." + +The Duke said that he would go with him, for the vigil would in no +wise be burdensome, but rather a frolic and a game. They accorded +between them a place of meeting, where they would draw together on +foot, and alone. When nightfall was come they fared to the hostel of +the Duke's niece, for her dwelling was near at hand. They had not +tarried long in the garden, when the Duke saw his niece's lapdog run +straight to that end of the orchard where the knight was hidden. +Wondrous kindness showed the knight to his lady's dog. Immediately he +took his way to her lodging, and left his master in his nook by the +wall. The Duke followed after till he drew near the chamber, and held +himself coy, concealing him as best he might. It was easy enough to +do this, for a great tree stood there, high and leafy, so that he was +covered close as by a shield. From this place he marked the little dog +enter the chamber, and presently saw his niece issue therefrom, and +hurry forth to meet her lover in the pleasaunce. He was so close that +he could see and hear the solace of that greeting, the salutation of +her mouth and of her hands. She embraced him closely in her fair white +arms, kissing him more than a hundred times, whilst she spoke many +comforting words. The knight for his part kissed her again, and held +her fast, praising her with many tender names. + +"My lady, my friend, my love," said he, "heart and mistress and hope, +and the sum of all that I hold dear, know well that I have yearned to +be with you as we are now, every day and all day long since we met." + +"Sweet lord, sweet friend, sweet love," replied the lady, "never has a +day nor an hour gone by but I was awearied of its length. But I grieve +no longer over the past, for I have my heart's desire when you are +with me, joyous and well. Right welcome are you to your friend." + +And the knight made answer, + +"Love, you are welcome and wellmet." + +From his place of hiding, near the entrance to the chamber, the Duke +hearkened to every word. His niece's voice and face were so familiar +to him, that he could not doubt that the Duchess had lied. Greatly was +he content, for he was now assured that his friend had not done amiss +in that of which he had misdoubted him. All through the night he kept +watch and ward. But during his vigil the dame and the knight, close +and sleepless in the chamber, knew such joy and tenderness as it is +not seemly should be told or heard, save of those who hope themselves +to attain such solace, when Love grants them recompense for all their +pains. For he who desires nothing of this joy and quittance, even +if it were told him, would but listen to a tongue he could not +understand, since his heart is not turned to Love, and none can know +the wealth of such riches, except Love whisper it in his ear. Of such +kingdom not all are worthy: for there joy goes without anger, and +solace is crowned with fruition. But so fleet are things sweet, that +to the lover his joy seems to find but a brief content. So pleasant +is the life he passes that he wishes his night a week, his week to +stretch to a month, the month become a year, and one year three, and +three years twenty, and the twenty attain to a hundred. Yea, when the +term and end were reached, he would that the dusk were closing, rather +than the dawn had come. + +This was the case with the lover whom the Duke awaited in the orchard. +When day was breaking, and he durst remain no longer, he came with his +lady to the door. The Duke marked the fashion of their leave-taking, +the kisses given and granted, the sighs and the weeping as they bade +farewell. When they had wept many tears, and devised an hour for their +next meeting, the knight departed in this fashion, and the lady shut +the door. But so long as she might see him, she followed his going +with her pretty eyes, since there was nothing better she could do. + +When the Duke knew the postern was made fast, he hastened on his road +until he overtook the knight, who to himself was making his complaint +of the season, that all too short was his hour. The same thought +and the self same words were hers from whom he had parted, for the +briefness of the time had betrayed her delight, and she had no praises +for the dawn. The knight was deep in his thought and speech, when he +was overtaken by the Duke. The Duke embraced his friend, greeting him +very tenderly. Then he said to him, + +"I pledge my faith that I will love you all the days of my life, never +on any day seeking to do you a mischief, for you have told me the very +truth, and have not lied to me by a single word." + +"Sire," he made answer, "thanks and gramercy. But for the love of +God I require and pray of you that it be your pleasure to hide this +counsel; for I should lose my love, and the peace and comfort of my +life--yea, and should die without sin of my own, if I deemed that any +other in this realm than yourself knew aught of the business." + +"Now speak of it never," replied the Duke. "Know that the counsel +shall be kept so hidden, that by me shall not a syllable be spoken." + +On this covenant they came again whence they had set forth together. +That day, when men sat at meat, the Duke showed to his knight a +friendlier semblance and a fairer courtesy than ever he had done +before. The Duchess felt such wrath and despitefulness at this, +that--without any leasing--she rose from the table, and making +pretence of sudden sickness, went to lie upon her bed, where she found +little softness. When the Duke had eaten and washed and made merry, he +afterwards sought his wife's chamber, and causing her to be seated on +her bed, commanded that none should remain, save himself. So all men +went forth at his word, even as he had bidden. Thereupon the Duke +inquired of the lady how this evil had come to her, and of what she +was sick. She made answer, + +"As God hears me, never till I ate at table did I deem that you had so +little sense or decency, as when I saw you making much of him, who, I +have told you already, strove to bring shame and disgrace on me. When +I watched you entreat him with more favour than even was your wont, +such great sorrow and such great anger took hold on me, that I could +not contain myself in the hall." + +"Sweet friend," replied the Duke, "know that I shall never +believe--either from your lips or from those of any creature in the +world--that the story ever happened as you rehearsed it. I am so deep +in his counsel that he has my quittance, for I have full assurance +that he never dreamed of such a deed. But as to this you must ask of +me no more." + +The Duke went straightway from the chamber, leaving the lady sunk in +thought. However long she had to live, never might she know an hour's +comfort, till she had learnt something of that secret of which the +Duke forbade her to seek further. No denial could now stand in her +way, for in her heart swiftly she devised a means to unriddle this +counsel, so only she might endure until the evening, and the Duke was +in her arms. She was persuaded that, beyond doubt, such solace would +win her wish more surely than wrath or tears. For this purpose she +held herself coy, and when the Duke came to lie at her side she betook +herself to the further side of the bed, making semblance that his +company gave her no pleasure. Well she knew that such show of anger +was the device to put her lord beneath her feet. Therefore she turned +her back upon him, that the Duke might the more easily be drawn by +the cords of her wrath. For this same reason when he had no more than +kissed her, she burst out, + +"Right false and treacherous and disloyal are you to make such a +pretence of affection, who yet have never loved me truly one single +day. All these years of our wedded life I have been foolish enough to +believe, what you took such pains in the telling, that you loved +me with a loyal heart. To-day I see plainly that I was the more +deceived." + +"In what are you deceived?" inquired the Duke. + +"By my faith," cried she, who was sick of her desire, "you warn me +that I be not so bold as to ask aught of that of which you know the +secret." + +"In God's name, sweet wife, of what would you know?" + +"Of all that he has told you, the lies and the follies he has put in +your mind, and led you to believe. But it matters little now whether I +hear it or not, for I remember how small is my gain in being your true +and loving wife. For good or for ill I have shown you all my counsel. +There was nothing that was known and seen of my heart that you were +not told at once; and of your courtesy you repay me by concealing your +mind. Know, now, without doubt, that never again shall I have in you +such affiance, nor grant you my love with such sweetness, as I have +bestowed them in the past." + + +Thereat the Duchess began to weep and sigh, making the most tender +sorrow that she was able. The Duke felt such pity for her grief that +he said to her, + +"Fairest and dearest, your wrath and anger are more heavy than I can +bear; but learn that I cannot tell what you wish me to say without +sinning against my honour too grievously." + +Then she replied forthwith, + +"Husband, if you do not tell me, the reason can only be that you do +not trust me to keep silence in the business. I wonder the more sorely +at this, because there is no matter, either great or small, that you +have told me, which has been published by me. I tell you honestly that +never in my life could I be so indiscreet." + +When she had said this, she betook her again to her tears. The Duke +kissed and embraced her, and was so sick of heart that strength failed +him to keep his purpose. + +"Fair wife," he said to her, "by my soul I am at my wits' end. I have +such trust and faith in you that I deem I should hide nothing, but +show you all that I know. Yet I dread that you will let fall some +word. Know, wife--and I tell it you again--that if ever you betray +this counsel you will get death for your payment." + +The Duchess made answer, + +"I agree to the bargain, for it is not possible that I should deal you +so shrewd a wrong." + +Then he who loved her, because of his faith and his credence in her +word, told all this story of his niece, even as he had learned it from +the knight. He told how those two were alone together in the shadow of +the wall, when the little dog ran to them. He showed plainly of that +coming forth from the chamber, and of the entering in; nothing was +hid, he concealed naught of that he had heard and seen. When the +Duchess understood that the love of a mighty dame was despised for the +sake of a lowly gentlewoman, her humiliation was bitter in her mouth +as death. She showed no semblance of despitefulness, but made covenant +and promise with the Duke to keep the matter close, saying that should +she repeat his tale he might hang her from a tree. + +Time went very heavily with the lady, till she could get speech with +her, whom she hated from the hour she knew her to be the friend of him +who had caused her such shame and grief. She was persuaded that for +this reason he would not give her love, in return for that she set on +him. She confirmed herself in her purpose, that at such time and place +she saw the Duke speaking with his niece, she would go swiftly to the +lady, and tell out all her mind, hiding nothing because it was evil. +Neither time nor place was met, till Pentecost was come, and the Duke +held high Court, commanding to the feast all the ladies of his realm, +amongst the first that lady, his niece, who was the Chatelaine of +Vergi. When the Duchess looked on her, the blood pricked in her veins, +for reason that she hated her more than aught else in the world. She +had the courage to hide her malice, and greeted the lady more gladly +than ever she had done before. But she yearned to show openly the +anger that burned in her heart, and the delay was much against her +mind. On Pentecost, whilst the tables were removed, the Duchess +brought the ladies to her chamber with her, that, apart from the +throng, they might the more graciously attire them for the dance. She +deemed her hour had come, and having no longer the power to refrain +her lips, she said gaily, as if in jest, + +"Chatelaine, array yourself very sweetly, since there is a fair and +worthy lord you have to please." + +The lady answered right simply, + +"In truth, madam, I know not what you are thinking of; but for my part +I wish for no such friendship as may not be altogether according to my +honour and to that of my lord." + +"I grant that readily," replied the Duchess, "you are a good mistress, +and have an apt pupil in your little dog." + +The ladies returned with the Duchess to the hall, where the dances +were already set. They had listened to the tale, but could not mark +the jest. The chatelaine remained in the chamber. Her colour came and +went, and because of her wrath and trouble the heart throbbed thickly +in her breast. She passed within a tiring chamber, where a little +maiden was lying at the foot of the bed; but for grief she might not +perceive her. The chatelaine flung herself upon the bed, bewailing her +evil plight, for she was exceedingly sorrowful. She said, + +"Ah, Lord God, take pity on me! What may this mean, that I have +listened to my lady's reproaches because of the training of my little +dog! This she can have learned from none--as well I know--save from +him whom I have loved, and who has betrayed me. He would never have +shown her this thing, except that he was her familiar friend, and +doubtless loves her more dearly than me, whom he has betrayed. I see +now the value of his oaths, since he finds it so easy to fail in his +covenant. Sweet God, and I loved him so fondly, more fondly than any +woman has loved before; who never had him from my thoughts one single +hour, whether it were night or day. For he was my mirth and my carol; +in him were my joy and my pleasure; he alone was my solace and +comfort. Ah, my friend, how can this have come; you who were always +with me, even when I might not see you with my eyes! What ill has +befallen you, that you durst prove false to me? I deemed you more +faithful--God take me in His keeping--than ever was Tristan to Isoude. +May God pity a poor fool, I loved you half as much again than I had +love for myself. From the first to the last of our friendship, never +by thought, or by word, or by deed, have I done amiss; there is no +wrong doing, trifling or great, to make plain your hatred, or to +excuse so vile a betrayal as this scorning of our love for a fresher +face, this desertion of me, this proclaiming of our secret. Alas, my +friend, I marvel greatly; for as God is my witness my heart was not +thus towards you. If God had offered me all the kingdoms of the world, +yea, and His Heaven and its Paradise besides, I would have refused +them gladly, had my gain meant the losing of you. For you were my +wealth and my song and my health, and nothing can hurt me any more, +since my heart has learnt that yours no longer loves me. Ah, lasting, +precious love! Who could have guessed that he would deal this blow, to +whom I gave the grace of my tenderness--who said that I was his lady +both in body and in soul, and he the slave at my bidding. Yea, he told +it over so sweetly, that I believed him faithfully, nor thought in any +wise that his heart would bear wrath and malice against me, whether +for Duchess or for Queen. How good was this love, since the heart in +my breast must always cleave to his! I counted him to be my friend, in +age as in youth, our lives together; for well I knew that if he died +first I should not dare to endure long without him, because of the +greatness of my love. The grave, with him, would be fairer, than life +in a world where I might never see him with my eyes. Ah, lasting, +precious love! Is it then seemly that he should publish our counsel, +and destroy her who had done him no wrong? When I gave him my love +without grudging, I warned him plainly, and made covenant with him, +that he would lose me the self same hour that he made our tenderness a +song. Since part we must, I may not live after so bitter a sorrow; nor +would I choose to live, even if I were able. Fie upon life, it has no +savour in it. Since it pleases me naught, I pray to God to grant me +death, and--so truly as I have loved him who requites me thus--to have +mercy on my soul. I forgive him his wrong, and may God give honour and +life to him who has betrayed and delivered me to death. Since it +comes from his hand, death, meseems, is no bitter potion; and when I +remember his love, to die for his sake is no grievous thing." + +When the chatelaine had thus spoken she kept silence, save only that +she said in sighing, + +"Sweet friend, I commend you to God." + +With these words she strained her arms tightly across her breast, the +heart failed her, and her face lost its fair colour. She swooned in +her anguish, and lay back, pale and discoloured in the middle of the +bed, without life or breath. + +Of this her friend knew nothing, for he sought his delight in the +hall, at carol and dance and play. But amongst all those ladies he had +no pleasure in any that he saw, since he might not perceive her to +whom his heart was given, and much he marvelled thereat. He took the +Duke apart, and said in his ear, + +"Sire, whence is this that your niece tarries so long, and comes not +to the dancing? Have you put her in prison?" + +The Duke looked upon the dancers, for he had not concerned himself +with the revels. He took his friend by the hand, and led him directly +to his wife's chamber. When he might not find her there he bade the +knight seek her boldly in the tiring chamber; and this he did of his +courtesy that these two lovers might solace themselves with clasp and +kiss. The knight thanked his lord sweetly, and entered softly in the +chamber, where his friend lay dark and discoloured upon the bed. Time +and place being met together, he took her in his arms and touched her +lips. But when he found how cold was her mouth, how pale and rigid her +person, he knew by the semblance of all her body that she was quite +dead. In his amazement he cried out swiftly, + +"What is this? Alas, is my dear one dead?" + +The maiden started from the foot of the bed where she still lay, +making answer, + +"Sir, I deem truly that she be dead. Since she came to this room +she has done nothing but call upon death, by reason of her friend's +falsehood, whereof my lady assured her, and because of a little dog, +whereof my lady made her jest. This sorrow brought her to her death." + +When the knight understood from this that the words he had spoken to +the Duke had slain his friend, he was discomforted beyond measure. + +"Alas," said he, "sweet love, the most gracious and the best that ever +knight had, loyal and true, how have I slain you, like the faithless +traitor that I am! It were only just that I should receive the wages +for my deed, so that you could have gone free of blame. But you were +so faithful of heart that you took it on yourself to pay the price. +Then I will do justice on myself for the treason I have wrought." + +The knight drew from its sheath a sword that was hanging from the +wall, and thrust it throught his heart. He pained himself to fall +upon his lady's body; and because of the mightiness of his hurt, bled +swiftly to death. The maiden fled forth from the chamber, when she +marked these lifeless lovers, for she was all adread at what she saw. +She lighted on the Duke, and told him all that she had heard and seen, +keeping back nothing. She showed him the beginning of the matter, and +also of the little dog, whereof the Duchess had spoken. + +Hearken all to what befell. The Duke went straightway to the tiring +chamber, and drew from out the wound that sword by which the knight +lay slain. He said no word, but hastened forthwith to the hall where +the guests were yet at their dancing. Entering there he acquitted +himself of his promise, for he smote the Duchess on the head with the +naked sword he carried in his hand. He struck the blow without one +word, since his wrath was too deep for speech. The Duchess fell at his +feet, in the sight of the barons of his realm, whereat the feast was +sorely troubled, for in place of mirth and carol, now were blood and +death. Then the Duke told loudly and swiftly, before all who cared to +hear, this pitiful story, in the midst of his Court. There was not one +but wept, and his tears were the more piteous when he beheld those two +lovers who lay dead in the chamber, and the Duchess in her hall. So +the Court broke up in dole and anger, for of this deed came mighty +mischief. On the morrow the Duke caused the lovers to be laid in one +tomb, and the Duchess in a place apart. But of this adventure the Duke +had such bitterness that never was he known to laugh again. He took +the Cross, and went beyond the sea, where joining himself to the +Knights Templar, he never returned to his own realm. + +Ah, God! all this mischief and encumbrance chanced to the knight by +reason of his making plain that he should have hid, and of publishing +what his friend forbade him to speak, if he would keep her love. From +this ensample we may learn that it is not seemly to love, and tell. He +who blabs and blazons his friendship gets not one kiss the more; but +he who goes discreetly preserves life and love and fame. For the +friendship of the discreet lover falls not before the mine of such +false and felon pryers as burrow privily into their neighbour's secret +love. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of French Mediaeval Romances from the +Lays of Marie de France, by Marie de France + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11417 *** diff --git a/11417-h/11417-h.htm b/11417-h/11417-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c2d17b8 --- /dev/null +++ b/11417-h/11417-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,8660 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<html> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content= + "text/html; charset=UTF-8"> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of French, by E.P. Dutton and Co. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + <!-- + * { font-family: Times;} + P { text-indent: 1em; + margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; } + HR { width: 33%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em;} + BODY{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%;} + .linenum {position: absolute; top: auto; left: 4%;} /* poetry number */ + .note {margin-left: 2em; margin-right: 2em; margin-bottom: 1em;} /* block indent */ + .pagenum {position: absolute; left: 92%; right: 100%; font-size: 8pt; justify: right;} /* page numbers */ + // --> + </style> + </head> +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11417 ***</div> + +<h1>FRENCH</h1> +<h1>MEDIAEVAL</h1> +<h1>ROMANCES</h1> + +<h2>From the Lays of Marie de France</h2> + +<h3>Translated by</h3> +<h3>Eugene Mason</h3> + +<h3>1911</h3> + +<br> +<p><a href="#CONTENTS"><b>CONTENTS</b></a><br> +<p>INTRODUCTION</p> +<br> + +<p>The tales included in this little book of translations are derived +mainly from the "Lays" of Marie de France. I do not profess +them to be a complete collection of her stories in verse. +The ascription varies. Poems which were included in her +work but yesterday are withdrawn to-day, and new matter +suggested by scholars to take the place of the old. I believe +it to be, however, a far fuller version of Marie's "Lays" +than has yet appeared, to my knowledge, in English. Marie's +poems are concerned chiefly with love. To complete my book +I have added two famous mediaeval stories on the same +excellent theme. This, then, may be regarded as a volume +of French romances, dealing, generally, with one aspect of +mediaeval life.</p> + +<p>An age so feminist in its sympathies as ours should be +attracted the more easily to Marie de France, because she was +both an artist and a woman. To deliver oneself through any +medium is always difficult. For a woman of the Middle +Ages to express herself publicly by any means whatever was +almost impossible. A great lady, a great Saint or church-woman, +might do so very occasionally. But the individuality +of the ordinary wife was merged in that of her husband, and +for one Abbess of Shrewsbury or Whitby, for one St. Clare or +St. Hilda, there were how many thousand obscure sisters, +who were buried in the daily routine of a life hidden with +Christ in God! Doubtless the artistic temperament burst +out now and again in woman, and would take no denial. +It blew where it listed, appearing in the most unexpected +places. A young nun in a Saxon convent, for instance, +would write little dramas in Latin for the amusement and +edification of the noble maidens under her charge. These +comedies, written in the days of the Emperor Otho, can be +read with pleasure in the reign of King George, by those who +find fragrant the perfumes of the past. They deal with the +pious legends of the Saints, and are regarded with wistful +admiration by the most modern of Parisian playwrights. In +their combination of audacity and simplicity they could only +be performed by Saxon religious in the times of Otho, or by +marionettes in the more self-conscious life of to-day. Or, +again, an Abbess, the protagonist of one of the great love +stories of the world, by sheer force of personality, would +compose letters to one—how immeasurably her moral inferior, +in spite of his genius—expressing with an unexampled +poignancy the most passionate emotions of the heart. Or, to +take my third illustration, here are a woman's poems written +in an age when literature was almost entirely in the hands of +men. Consider the strength of character which alone induced +these three ladies to stray from the beaten paths of +their sex. To the average woman it was enough to be an +object of art herself, or to be the inspiration of masterpieces +by man. But these three women of the Middle Ages—and +such as they—shunned the easier way, and, in their several +spheres, were by deliberate effort, self-conscious artists.</p> + +<p>The place and date of birth of Marie de France are unknown—indeed +the very century in which she lived has been +a matter of dispute. Her poems are written in the French of +northern France; but that does not prove her necessarily to +be a Frenchwoman. French was the tongue of the English +Court, and many Englishmen have written in the same +language. Indeed, it is a very excellent vehicle for expression. +Occasionally, Marie would insert English words in her French +text, the better to convey her meaning; but it does not follow +therefrom that the romances were composed in England. It +seems strange that so few positive indications of her race and +home are given in her poems—nothing is contained beyond +her Christian name and the bare statement that she was of +France. She took great pride in her work, which she wrought +to the best of her ability, and was extremely jealous of that +bubble-reputation. Yet whilst this work was an excellent +piece of self-portraiture, it reveals not one single fact or date +on which to go. A consensus of critical opinion presumes +that Marie was a subject of the English Crown, born in an +ancient town called Pitre, some three miles above Rouen, in +the Duchy of Normandy. This speculation is based largely +on the unwonted topographical accuracy of her description +of Pitre, given in "The Lay of the Two Lovers." Such +evidence, perhaps, is insufficient to obtain a judgment in a +Court of Law. The date when Marie lived was long a matter +of dispute. The Prologue to her "Lays" contains a +dedication to some unnamed King; whilst her "Fables" is +dedicated to a certain Count William. These facts prove her +to have been a person of position and repute. The King was +long supposed to be Henry the Third of England, and this +would suggest that she lived in the thirteenth century. An +early scholar, the Abbé de La Rue, in fact, said that this was +"undoubtedly" the case, giving cogent reasons in support of +his contention. But modern scholarship, in the person of +Gaston Paris, has decided that the King was Henry the +Second, of pious memory; the Count, William Longsword, +Earl of Salisbury, his natural son by Fair Rosamund; and +that Marie must be placed in the second half of the twelfth +century. This shows that scholarship is not an exact science, +and that such words as "doubtless" should not be employed +more than necessary. A certain Eastern philosopher, when +engaged in instructing the youth of his country, used always +to conclude his lectures with the unvarying formula, "But, +gentlemen, all that I have told you is probably wrong." +This sage was a wise man (not always the same thing), and +his example should be had in remembrance. It seems +possible (and one hesitates to use a stronger word) that the +"Lays" of Marie were actually written at the Court of +Henry of England. From political ambition the King was +married to Eleanor of Aquitaine, a lady of literary tastes, +who came from a family in which the patronage of singers +was a tradition. Her husband, too, had a pronounced liking +for literature. He was fond of books, and once paid a visit +to Glastonbury to visit King Arthur's tomb. These, perhaps, +are limited virtues, but Henry the Second had need of every +rag. It is somewhat difficult to recognise in that King of +the Prologue, "in whose heart all gracious things are +rooted," the actual King who murdered Becket; who turned +over picture-books at Mass, and never confessed or communicated. +It is yet more difficult to perceive "joy as his +handmaid" who, because of the loss of a favourite city, +threatened to revenge himself on God, by robbing Him of that +thing—<i>i.e.</i>, the soul—He desired most in him; and whose +very last words were an echo of Job's curse upon the day +that he was born. Marie's phrases may be regarded, perhaps, +as a courtly flourish, rather than as conveying truth +with mathematical precision. If not, we should be driven to +suggest an alternative to the favourite simile of lying like an +epitaph. But I think it unlikely that Marie suffered with a +morbidly sensitive conscience. There is little enough real +devotion to be met with in her "Lays"; and if her last +book—a translation from the Latin of the Purgatory of St. +Patrick—is on a subject she avoids in her earlier work, it +was written under the influence of some high prelate, and +may be regarded as a sign that she watched the shadows +cast by the western sun lengthening on the grass.</p> + +<p>Gaston Paris suggests 1175 as an approximate date for the composition of +the "Lays" of Marie de France. Their success was immediate and +unequivocal, as indeed was to be expected in the case of a lady situated +so fortunately at Court. We have proof of this in the testimony of Denis +Pyramus, the author who wrote a Life of St. Edmund the King, early in +the following century. He says, in that poem, "And also Dame Marie, who +turned into rhyme and made verses of 'Lays' which are not in the least +true. For these she is much praised, and her rhyme is loved everywhere; +for counts, barons, and knights greatly admire it, and hold it dear. And +they love her writing so much, and take such pleasure in it, that they +have it read, and often copied. These Lays are wont to please ladies, +who listen to them with delight, for they are after their own hearts." +It is no wonder that the lords and ladies of her century were so +enthralled by Marie's romances, for her success was thoroughly well +deserved. Even after seven hundred years her colours remain surprisingly +vivid, and if the tapestry is now a little worn and faded in places, we +still follow with interest the movements of the figures wrought so +graciously upon the arras. Of course her stories are not original; but +was any plot original at any period of the earth's history? This is not +only an old, but an iterative world. The source of Marie's inspiration +is perfectly clear, for she states it emphatically in quite a number of +her Lays. This adventure chanced in Brittany, and in remembrance thereof +the Bretons made a Lay, which I heard sung by the minstrel to the music +of his rote. Marie's part consisted in reshaping this ancient material +in her own rhythmic and coloured words. Scholars tell us that the +essence of her stories is of Celtic rather than of Breton origin. It may +be so; though to the lay mind this is not a matter of great importance +one way or the other; but it seems better to accept a person's definite +statement until it is proved to be false. The Breton or Celtic +imagination had peculiar qualities of dreaminess, and magic and mystery. +Marie's mind was not cast in a precisely similar mould. Occasionally she +is successful enough; but generally she gives the effect of building +with a substance the significance of which she does not completely +realise. She may be likened to a child playing with symbols which, in +the hand of the enchanter, would be of tremendous import. Her treatment +of Isoude, for example, in "The Lay of the Honeysuckle," is quite +perfect in tone, and, indeed, is a little masterpiece in its own +fashion. But her sketch of Guenevere in "The Lay of Sir Launfal" is of a +character that one does not recall with pleasure. To see how Arthur's +Queen might be treated, we have but to turn to the pages of a +contemporary, and learn from Chrestien de Troyes' "Knight of the Cart," +how an even more considerable poet than Marie could deal with a Celtic +legend. The fact is that Marie's romances derive farther back than any +Breton or Celtic dream. They were so old that they had blown like +thistledown about the four quarters of the world. Her princesses came +really neither from Wales nor Brittany. They were of that stuff from +which romance is shaped. "Her face was bright as the day of union; her +hair dark as the night of separation; and her mouth was magical as +Solomon's seal." You can parallel her "Lays" from folklore, from +classical story and antiquity. Father and son fight together unwittingly +in "The Lay of Milon"; but Rustum had striven with Sohrab long before in +far Persia, and Cuchulain with his child in Ireland. Such stories are +common property. The writer takes his own where he finds it. Marie is +none the less admirable because her stories were narrated by the first +man in Eden; neither are Boccaccio and the Countess D'Aulnoy blameworthy +since they told again what she already had related so well. Marie, +indeed, was an admirable narrator. That was one of her shining virtues. +As a piece of artful tale telling, a specimen of the craft of keeping a +situation in suspense, the arrival of the lady before Arthur's Court, in +"The Lay of Sir Launfal," requires a deal of beating. The justness and +fineness of her sentiment in all that concerns the delicacies of the +human heart are also remarkable. But her true business was that of the +storyteller. In that trade she was almost unapproachable in her day. +There may have been—indeed, there was—a more considerable poet living; +but a more excellent writer of romances, than the author of "Eliduc," it +would have been difficult to find.</p> + +<p>The ladies who found the "Lays" of Marie after their +own hearts were not only admirers of beautiful stories; they +had the delicate privilege also of admiring themselves in +their habit as they lived—perhaps even lovelier than in reality—amidst +their accustomed surroundings. The pleasure of a +modern reader in such tales as these is enhanced by the +light they throw on the household arrangements and customs +of the gentlefolk of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. It +may be of interest to consider some of these domestic +arrangements, as illustrated by stories included in the present +volume.</p> + +<p>The corporate life of a mediaeval household centered in +the hall. It was office and dining and billiard room, and +was common to gentle and simple alike. The hall was by +far the largest room in the house. It was lighted by +windows, and warmed by an open fire of logs. The smoke +drifted about the roof, escaping finally by the simple means +of a lantern placed immediately above the hearth. A beaten +floor was covered by rushes and fresh hay, or with rugs in +that part affected by the more important members of the +household. The lord himself and his wife sat in chairs upon +a raised daïs. The retainers were seated on benches around +the wall, and before them was spread the dining table—a +mere board upon trestles—which was removed when once +the meal was done. After supper, chess and draughts were +played, or (as we may see in "The Lay of the Thorn") +minstrels sang ballads and the guest contributed to the +general entertainment by the recital of such jests and +adventures as commended themselves to his taste. If the +hall may be considered as the dining room of the mediaeval +home, the garden might almost be looked upon as the +drawing room. You would probably get more real privacy +in the garden than in any other part of the crowded castle, +including the lady's chamber. It is no wonder that we read +of Guenevere taking Launfal aside for a little private conversation +in her pleasaunce. It was not only the most +private, but also the most delightful room in the house—ceiled +with blue and carpeted with green. The garden was +laid out elaborately with a perron and many raised seats. +Trees stood about the lawn in tubs, and there was generally +a fountain playing in the centre, or possibly a pond, stocked +with fish. Fruit trees and flower beds grew thickly about +the garden, and a pleasanter place of perfume and colour and +shade it would be difficult to imagine in the summer heat. +The third room of which we hear continually in these +romances is the lady's chamber. It served the purpose of a +boudoir as well as that of a sleeping room, and consequently +had little real privacy. It contained the marriage chest with +its store of linen, and also the bed. This bed recurs eternally +in mediæval tales. It was used as a seat during the day, +and as a resting-place of nights. It was a magnificent +erection, carved and gilded, and inlaid with ivory. Upon it +was placed a mattress of feathers, and a soft pillow. The +sheets were of linen or silk, and over all was spread a +coverlet of some precious material. An excellent description +of such a couch is given in "The Lay of Gugemar." This +chamber served also as a bath room, and there the bath was +taken, piping hot, in the strange vessel, fashioned somewhat +like a churn, that we see in pictures of the Middle Ages.</p> + +<p>Of the dress of the ladies who moved about the castle, +seeing themselves reflected from Marie's pages as in a +polished mirror, I am not competent to speak. The type of +beauty preferred by the old romancers was that of a child's +princess of fairy tale—blue-eyed, golden-haired, and ruddy +of cheek. The lady would wear a shift of linen, "white as +meadow flower." Over this was worn a garment of fur or +silk, according to the season; and, above all, a vividly +coloured gown, all in one line from neck to feet, shapen +closely to the figure, or else the more loosely fitting bliaut. +Her girdle clipped her closely about the waist, falling to the +hem of her skirt, and her feet were shod in soundless shoes, +without heels. The hair was arranged in two long braids, +brought forward over her shoulders; as worn by those +smiling Queens wrought upon the western porch of Chartres +Cathedral. Out of doors, and, indeed, frequently within, as +may be proved by a reference to "The Lay of the Ash Tree," +the lady was clad in a mantle and a hood. It must have +taken a great deal of time and travail to appear so dainty a +production. But to become poetry for others, it is necessary +for a woman first to be prose to herself.</p> + +<p>I am afraid the raw material of this radiant divinity had +much to endure before she suffered her sea change. In +mediaeval illustrations we see the maiden sitting demurely +in company, with downcast eyes, and hands folded modestly +in her lap. This unnatural restraint was induced by the +lavish compulsion of the rod. If there was one text, above +all others, approved and acted upon by fathers and mothers +of the Middle Ages, it was that exhorting parents not to +cocker their child, neither to wink at his follies, but to beat +him on the sides with a stick. Turn to "The Lay of the +Thorn," and mark the gusto with which a mother disciplines +her maid. Parents trained their children with blows. +Husbands (ah, the audacity of the mediaeval husband) +scattered the like seeds of kindness on their wives. In a +book written for the edification of his unmarried daughters, +Chaucer's contemporary, the Knight of La Tour Landry, +tells the following interesting anecdote. A man had a +scolding wife, who railed ungovernably upon him before +strangers, "and he that was angry of her governance smote +her with his first down to the earth; and then with his foot +he struck her on the visage, and broke her nose; and all her +life after that she had her nose crooked, the which shent and +disfigured her visage after, that she might not for shame +show her visage, it was so foul blemished. And this she +had for her evil and great language that she was wont to say +to her husband. And therefore the wife ought to suffer, and +let the husband have the words, and to be master." May +I give yet another illustration before we pass from the +subject. This time it is taken not from a French knight, +but from a sermon of the great Italian preacher, St. +Bernardino of Siena. "There are men who can bear more +patiently with a hen that lays a fresh egg every day than +with their own wives; and sometimes when the hen breaks +a pipkin or a cup he will spare it a beating, simply for love +of the fresh egg which he is unwilling to lose. Oh, raving +madmen! who cannot bear a word from their own wives, +though they bear them such fair fruit; but when the woman +speaks a word more than they like, then they catch up a +stick, and begin to cudgel her; while the hen that cackles +all day, and gives you no rest, you take patience with her +for the sake of her miserable egg—and sometimes she will +break more in your house than she herself is worth, yet +you bear it in patience for the egg's sake. Many fidgetty +fellows, who sometimes see their wives turn out less neat +and dainty than they would like, smite them forthwith; and +meanwhile the hen may make a mess on the table, and you +suffer her. Have patience; it is not right to beat your wife +for every cause, no!"</p> + +<p>At the commencement of this Introduction I stated that +Marie's romances are concerned mainly with love. Her +talent was not very wide nor rich, and I have no doubt that +there were facets of her personality which she was unable +to get upon paper. The prettiest girl in the world can only +give what she has to give. By the time any reader reaches +the end of this volume he will be assured that the stories are +stories of love. Probably he will have noticed also that, in +many cases, the lady who inspires the most delicate of +sentiments is, incidentally, a married woman. He may ask +why this was so; and in answer I propose to conclude my +paper with a few observations upon the subject of mediaeval +love.</p> + +<p>I doubt in my own mind whether romance writers do not +exaggerate what was certainly a characteristic of the Middle +Ages. To be ordinary is to be uninteresting; and it is +obvious that the stranger the experience, the more likely is +it to attract the interest and attention of the hearer. Blessed +is the person—as well as the country—who has no history. +But it was really very difficult for the twelfth century poet +to write a love story, with a maiden as the central figure. +The noble maiden seldom had a love story. It is true enough +that she was sometimes referred to in the choice of her +husband: two young ladies in "A Story of Beyond the +Sea" are both consulted in the matter. As a rule, however, +her inclination was not permitted to stand in the way of the +interests of her parents or guardians. She was betrothed +in childhood, and married very young, for mercenary or +political reasons, to a husband much older than herself. We +read of a girl of twelve being married to a man of fifty. +There was no great opportunity for a love story here; and +the strange entreaty, on the part of the nameless French +poet, to love the maidens for the sake of Christ's love, +passed over the heads of the romance writers. Not that the +mediæval maidens showed any shrinking from matrimony. +"Fair daughter, I have given you a husband." "Blessed +be God," said the damsel. There spoke a contented spirit. +Things have changed, and we can but sigh after the good +old times.</p> + +<p>But the maiden inevitably became the wife, and the +whirligig of Time brought in his revenges. The lady now +found herself the most important member of her sex, in a +dwelling filled with men. She had few women about her +person, and the confidant of a great dame in old romance +is, frequently enough, her chamberlain. These young men +had no chance of marriage, and naturally strove to gain the +attention of a lady, whose favour was to them so important +a matter. A mediæval knight was the sworn champion of +God and the ladies—but more especially the latter. The +chatelaine, herself, found time hang heavily on her hands. +Amusements were few; books limited in number; a husband +not of absorbing interest; so she turned to such distractions +as presented themselves. The prettier a lady, the sweeter +the incense and flattery swung beneath her nose; for this +was one of the disadvantages of marrying an attractive +woman. "It is hard to keep a wife whom everyone admires; +and if no one admires her it is hard to have to live with her +yourself." One of these distractions took the shape of +Courts of Love, where the bored but literary chatelaine +discussed delicate problems of conduct pertaining to the +heart. The minstrel about the lady's castle, for his part, +sought her favourable notice not only by his songs but also +by giving an object lesson of his melancholy condition. One +would imagine that his proceedings were not always +calculated to further their purpose. A famous singer, for +instance, in honour of a lady who was named Lupa, caused +himself to be sewn in a wolf's skin, and ran before the +hounds till he was pulled down, half dead. Another great +minstrel and lover bought a leper's gown and bowl and +clapper from some afflicted wretch. He mutilated his forefinger, +and sat before his lady's door, in the company of a +piteous crowd of sick and maimed, to await her alms. No +doubt he trusted that his devotion would procure him a +different kind of charity. From such discussions as these, +and from conduct such as this, a type of love came into being +which was peculiar to the period. Since the lovers were +not bound in the sweet and common union of children and +home, since on the side of the lady all was of grace and +nought of debt, they searched out other bands to unite them +together. These they found in a system of devotion, silence +and faithfulness, which added a dignity to their relations. +These virtues they took so seriously that we find the +Chatelaine of Vergi dying because she believed her lover to +have betrayed her trust. The mediaeval romancer contemplated +such unions with joy and pity; but for all their +virtues we must not deceive ourselves with words. Such +honour was rooted in dishonour, and the measure of their +guilt was that they debased the moral currency. Presently the +greatest of all the poets of the Middle Ages would arise, to teach +a different fashion of devotion. His was a love that sought no +communion with its object, neither speech nor embrace. It +was sufficient for Dante to contemplate Beatrice from afar, +as one might kneel before the picture of a saint. I do not +say that a love like this—so spiritual and so aloof—will ever +be possible to men. It did not suffice even to Dante, for all +his tremendous moral muscle. Human love must always +and inevitably be founded on a physical basis. But the +burning drop of idealism that Dante contributed to the +passion of the Middle Ages has made possible the love of +which we now and again catch a glimpse in the union of +select natures. And that the seed of such flowering may be +carried about the world is one of the fairest hopes and +possibilities of the human race.</p> + +<p>EUGENE MASON.</p> + +<p>The originals of these narratives are to be found in +Roquefort's edition of the Poésies de Marie de France; in a +volume of the Nouvelles Françoises en Prose, edited by +Moland and D'Héricault; and in M. Gaston Raynaud's text +of La Chatelaine de Vergi.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CONTENTS"></a><h2>CONTENTS</h2> +<br> + + +<p>INTRODUCTION</p> + +<p><a href="#I"><b>I</b></a>. PROLOGUE BY WAY OF DEDICATION</p> + +<p><a href="#II"><b>II</b></a>. THE LAY OF GUGEMAR</p> + +<p><a href="#III"><b>III</b></a>. THE LAY OF THE DOLOROUS KNIGHT</p> + +<p><a href="#IV"><b>IV</b></a>. THE LAY OF ELIDUC</p> + +<p><a href="#V"><b>V.</b></a>. THE LAY OF THE NIGHTINGALE</p> + +<p><a href="#VI"><b>VI</b></a>. THE LAY OF SIR LAUNFAL</p> + +<p><a href="#VII"><b>VII</b></a>. THE LAY OF THE TWO LOVERS</p> + +<p><a href="#VIII"><b>VIII</b></a>. THE LAY OF THE WERE-WOLF</p> + +<p><a href="#IX"><b>IX</b></a>. THE LAY OF THE ASH TREE</p> + +<p><a href="#X"><b>X</b></a>. THE LAY OF THE HONEYSUCKLE</p> + +<p><a href="#XI"><b>XI</b></a>. THE LAY OF EQUITAN</p> + +<p><a href="#XII"><b>XII</b></a>. THE LAY OF MILON</p> + +<p><a href="#XIII"><b>XIII</b></a>. THE LAY OF YONEC</p> + +<p><a href="#XIV"><b>XIV</b></a>. THE LAY OF THE THORN</p> + +<p><a href="#XV"><b>XV</b></a>. THE LAY OF GRAELENT</p> + +<p><a href="#XVI"><b>XVI</b></a>. A STORY OF BEYOND THE SEA</p> + +<p><a href="#XVII"><b>XVII</b></a>. THE CHATELAINE OF VERGI</p> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="I"></a><h2>I</h2> +<br> + +<p>PROLOGUE</p> + +<p>BY WAY OF DEDICATION</p> + +<p>Those to whom God has given the gift of comely speech, +should not hide their light beneath a bushel, but should +willingly show it abroad. If a great truth is proclaimed +in the ears of men, it brings forth fruit a hundred-fold; +but when the sweetness of the telling is praised of many, +flowers mingle with the fruit upon the branch.</p> + +<p>According to the witness of Priscian, it was the custom +of ancient writers to express obscurely some portions +of their books, so that those who came after might +study with greater diligence to find the thought within +their words. The philosophers knew this well, and were +the more unwearied in labour, the more subtle in distinctions, +so that the truth might make them free. +They were persuaded that he who would keep himself +unspotted from the world should search for knowledge, +that he might understand. To set evil from me, and to +put away my grief, I purposed to commence a book. +I considered within myself what fair story in the Latin +or Romance I could turn into the common tongue. +But I found that all the stories had been written, and +scarcely it seemed the worth my doing, what so many +had already done. Then I called to mind those Lays +I had so often heard. I doubted nothing—for well I +know—that our fathers fashioned them, that men +should bear in remembrance the deeds of those who +have gone before. Many a one, on many a day, the +minstrel has chanted to my ear. I would not that they +should perish, forgotten, by the roadside. In my turn, +therefore, I have made of them a song, rhymed as well +as I am able, and often has their shaping kept me sleepless +in my bed.</p> + +<p>In your honour, most noble and courteous King, to +whom joy is a handmaid, and in whose heart all gracious +things are rooted, I have brought together these Lays, +and told my tales in seemly rhyme. Ere they speak +for me, let me speak with my own mouth, and say, +"Sire, I offer you these verses. If you are pleased to +receive them, the fairer happiness will be mine, and the +more lightly I shall go all the days of my life. Do not +deem that I think more highly of myself than I ought +to think, since I presume to proffer this, my gift." +Hearken now to the commencement of the matter.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="II"></a><h2>II</h2> +<br> + +<p>THE LAY OF GUGEMAR</p> + +<p>Hearken, oh gentles, to the words of Marie. When +the minstrel tells his tale, let the folk about the fire heed +him willingly. For his part the singer must be wary +not to spoil good music with unseemly words. Listen, +oh lordlings, to the words of Marie, for she pains herself +grievously not to forget this thing. The craft is hard—then +approve the more sweetly him who carols the tune. +But this is the way of the world, that when a man or +woman sings more tunably than his fellows, those about +the fire fall upon him, pell-mell, for reason of their +envy. They rehearse diligently the faults of his song, +and steal away his praise with evil words. I will brand +these folk as they deserve. They, and such as they, are +like mad dogs—cowardly and felon—who traitorously +bring to death men better than themselves. Now let the +japer, and the smiler with his knife, do me what harm +they may. Verily they are in their right to speak ill of +me.</p> + +<p>Hearken, oh gentles, to the tale I set before you, for +thereof the Bretons already have made a Lay. I will +not do it harm by many words, and here is the commencement +of the matter. According to text and +scripture, now I relate a certain adventure, which +bechanced in the realm of Brittany, in days long gone +before.</p> + +<p>In that time when Arthur maintained his realm, the +now in peace, the now in war, the King counted amongst +his vassals a certain baron, named Oridial. This +knight was lord of Leon, and was very near to his +prince's heart, both in council chamber and in field. +From his wife he had gotten two children, the one a son +and the other a fair daughter. Nogent, he had called +the damsel at the font, and the dansellon was named +Gugemar—no goodlier might be found in any realm. +His mother had set all her love upon the lad, and his +father shewed him every good that he was able. When +the varlet was no more a child, Oridial sent him to +the King, to be trained as a page in the courtesies of +the Court. Right serviceable was he in his station, and +meetly praised of all. The term of his service having +come, and he being found of fitting years and knowledge, +the King made him knight with his own hand, and +armed him in rich harness, according to his wish. So +Gugemar gave gifts to all those about his person, and +bidding farewell, took leave, and departed from the Court. +Gugemar went his way to Flanders, being desirous of advancement, +for in that kingdom ever they have strife +and war. Neither in Loraine nor Burgundy, Anjou nor +Gascony, might be found in that day a better knight +than he, no, nor one his peer. He had but one fault, +since of love he took no care. There was neither dame +nor maiden beneath the sky, however dainty and kind, +to whom he gave thought or heed, though had he +required her love of any damsel, very willingly would she +have granted his desire. Many there were who prayed him +for his love, but might have no kiss in return. So seeing +that he refrained his heart in this fashion, men deemed +him a strange man, and one fallen into a perilous case.</p> + +<p>In the flower of his deeds the good knight returned +to his own land, that he might see again his father +and lord, his mother and his sister, even as he very +tenderly desired. He lodged with them for the space +of a long month, and at the end of that time had envy +to hunt within the wood. The night being come, +Gugemar summoned his prickers and his squires, and +early in the morning rode within the forest. Great +pleasure had Gugemar in the woodland, and much he +delighted in the chase. A tall stag was presently started, +and the hounds being uncoupled, all hastened in pursuit—the +huntsmen before, and the good knight following +after, winding upon his horn. Gugemar rode at a great +pace after the quarry, a varlet riding beside, bearing his +bow, his arrows and his spear. He followed so hotly +that he over-passed the chase. Gazing about him +he marked, within a thicket, a doe hiding with her +fawn. Very white and wonderful was this beast, for she +was without spot, and bore antlers upon her head. The +hounds bayed about her, but might not pull her down. +Gugemar bent his bow, and loosed a shaft at the quarry. +He wounded the deer a little above the hoof, so that +presently she fell upon her side. But the arrow glanced +away, and returning upon itself, struck Gugemar +in the thigh, so grievously, that straightway he fell from +his horse upon the ground. Gugemar lay upon the grass, +beside the deer which he had wounded to his hurt. +He heard her sighs and groans, and perceived the +bitterness of her pity. Then with mortal speech the doe +spake to the wounded man in such fashion as this, +"Alas, my sorrow, for now am I slain. But thou, +Vassal, who hast done me this great wrong, do not think +to hide from the vengeance of thy destiny. Never may +surgeon and his medicine heal your hurt. Neither herb +nor root nor potion can ever cure the wound within your +flesh: For that there is no healing. The only balm to +close that sore must be brought by a woman, who for her +love will suffer such pain and sorrow as no woman +in the world has endured before. And to the dolorous +lady, dolorous knight. For your part you shall do and +suffer so great things for her, that not a lover beneath +the sun, or lovers who are dead, or lovers who yet shall +have their day, but shall marvel at the tale. Now, go +from hence, and let me die in peace."</p> + +<p>Gugemar was wounded twice over—by the arrow, and +by the words he was dismayed to hear. He considered +within himself to what land he must go to find this +healing for his hurt, for he was yet too young to die. He +saw clearly, and told it to his heart, that there was no +lady in his life to whom he could run for pity, and +be made whole of his wound. He called his varlet +before him,</p> + +<p>"Friend," said he, "go forthwith, and bring my comrades +to this place, for I have to speak with them."</p> + +<p>The varlet went upon his errand, leaving his master +sick with the heat and fever of his hurt. When he was +gone, Gugemar tore the hem from his shirt, and bound +it straitly about his wound. He climbed painfully +upon the saddle, and departed without more ado, for he +was with child to be gone before any could come to stay +him from his purpose. A green path led through +the deep forest to the plain, and his way across the +plain brought him to a cliff, exceeding high, and to the sea. +Gugemar looked upon the water, which was very still, for +this fair harbourage was land-locked from the main. +Upon this harbour lay one only vessel, bearing a rich +pavilion of silk, daintily furnished both without and +within, and well it seemed to Gugemar that he had seen +this ship before. Beneath the sky was no ship so rich +or precious, for there was not a sail but was spun of silk, +and not a plank, from keel to mast, but showed of ebony. +Too fair was the nave for mortal man, and Gugemar held +it in sore displeasure. He marvelled greatly from +what country it had come, and wondered long concerning +this harbour, and the ship that lay therein. Gugemar +got him down from his horse upon the shore, and with +mighty pain and labour climbed within the ship. He +trusted to find merchantmen and sailors therein, but +there was none to guard, and none he saw. Now within +the pavilion was a very rich bed, carved by cunning +workmen in the days of King Solomon. This fair bed +was wrought of cypress wood and white ivory, adorned +with gold and gems most precious. Right sweet were the +linen cloths upon the bed, and so soft the pillow, that +he who lay thereon would sleep, were he sadder than any +other in the world. The counterpane was of purple from +the vats of Alexandria, and over all was set a right fair +coverlet of cloth of gold. The pavilion was litten by two +great waxen torches, placed in candlesticks of fine gold, +decked with jewels worth a lord's ransom. So the +wounded knight looked on ship and pavilion, bed and +candle, and marvelled greatly. Gugemar sat him down +upon the bed for a little, because of the anguish of his +wound. After he had rested a space he got upon his feet, +that he might quit the vessel, but he found that for him +there was no return. A gentle wind had filled the +sails, and already he was in the open sea. When +Gugemar saw that he was far from land, he was very +heavy and sorrowful. He knew not what to do, by +reason of the mightiness of his hurt. But he must +endure the adventure as best he was able; so he prayed +to God to take him in His keeping, and in His good pleasure +to bring him safe to port, and deliver him from the peril of +death. Then climbing upon the couch, he laid his +head upon the pillow, and slept as one dead, until, with +vespers, the ship drew to that haven where he might find +the healing for his hurt.</p> + +<p>Gugemar had come to an ancient city, where the +King of that realm held his court and state. This King +was full of years, and was wedded to a dame of high +degree. The lady was of tender age, passing fresh +and fair, and sweet of speech to all. Therefore was the +King jealous of his wife beyond all measure. Such is the +wont of age, for much it fears that old and young cannot +mate together, and that youth will turn to youth. This +is the death in life of the old.</p> + +<p>The castle of this ancient lord had a mighty keep. +Beneath this tower was a right fair orchard, together +with a close, shut in by a wall of green marble, very +strong and high. This wall had one only gate, and the +door was watched of warders, both night and day. On +the other side of this garden was the sea, so that none +might do his errand in the castle therefrom, save in a +boat. To hold his dame in the greater surety, the +King had built a bower within the wall; there was no +fairer chamber beneath the sun. The first room was +the Queen's chapel. Beyond this was the lady's bedchamber, +painted all over with shapes and colours +most wonderful to behold. On one wall might be seen +Dame Venus, the goddess of Love, sweetly flushed as +when she walked the water, lovely as life, teaching men +how they should bear them in loyal service to their +lady. On another wall, the goddess threw Ovid's book +within a fire of coals. A scroll issuing from her lips +proclaimed that those who read therein, and strove to +ease them of their pains, would find from her neither +service nor favour. In this chamber the lady was put +in ward, and with her a certain maiden to hold her +company. This damsel was her niece, since she was her +sister's child, and there was great love betwixt the twain. +When the Queen walked within the garden, or went +abroad, this maiden was ever by her side, and came +again with her to the house. Save this damsel, neither +man nor woman entered in the bower, nor issued forth +from out the wall. One only man possessed the key of +the postern, an aged priest, very white and frail. This +priest recited the service of God within the chapel, and +served the Queen's plate and cup when she ate meat +at table.</p> + +<p>Now, on a day, the Queen had fallen asleep after meat, +and on her awaking would walk a little in the garden. +She called her companion to her, and the two went +forth to be glad amongst the flowers. As they looked +across the sea they marked a ship drawing near the land, +rising and falling upon the waves. Very fearful was the +Queen thereat, for the vessel came to anchorage, though +there was no helmsman to direct her course. The dame's +face became sanguine for dread, and she turned her +about to flee, because of her exceeding fear. Her maiden, +who was of more courage than she, stayed her mistress +with many comforting words. For her part she was very +desirous to know what this thing meant. She hastened +to the shore, and laying aside her mantle, climbed +within this wondrous vessel. Thereon she found no +living soul, save only the knight sleeping fast within +the pavilion. The damsel looked long upon the knight, +for pale he was as wax, and well she deemed him dead. +She returned forthwith to the Queen, and told her of +this marvel, and of the good knight who was slain.</p> + +<p>"Let us go together on the ship," replied the lady. +"If he be dead we may give him fitting burial, and the +priest shall pray meetly for his soul. Should he be yet +alive perchance he will speak, and tell us of his case."</p> + +<p>Without more tarrying the two damsels mounted +on the ship, the lady before, and her maiden following +after. When the Queen entered in the pavilion she +stayed her feet before the bed, for joy and grief of what +she saw. She might not refrain her eyes from gazing +on the knight, for her heart was ravished with his beauty, +and she sorrowed beyond measure, because of his grievous +hurt. To herself she said, "In a bad hour cometh the +goodly youth." She drew near the bed, and placing +her hand upon his breast, found that the flesh was warm, +and that the heart beat strongly in his side. Gugemar +awoke at the touch, and saluted the dame as sweetly +as he was able, for well he knew that he had come to +a Christian land. The lady, full of thought, returned +him his salutation right courteously, though the tears +were yet in her eyes. Straightway she asked of him +from what realm he came, and of what people, and in +what war he had taken his hurt.</p> + +<p>"Lady," answered Gugemar, "in no battle I received +this wound. If it pleases you to hear my tale I will +tell you the truth, and in nothing will I lie. I am a +knight of Little Brittany. Yesterday I chased a wonderful +white deer within the forest. The shaft with which +I struck her to my hurt, returned again on me, +and caused this wound upon my thigh, which may never +be searched, nor made whole. For this wondrous +Beast raised her plaint in a mortal tongue. She cursed +me loudly, with many evil words, swearing that never +might this sore be healed, save by one only damsel in +the world, and her I know not where to find. When I +heard my luckless fate I left the wood with what speed +I might, and coming to a harbour, not far from thence, +I lighted on this ship. For my sins I climbed therein. +Then without oars or helm this boat ravished me from +shore; so that I know not where I have come, nor +what is the name of this city. Fair lady, for God's love, +counsel me of your good grace, for I know not where to +turn, nor how to govern the ship."</p> + +<p>The lady made answer, +"Fair sir, willingly shall I give you such good counsel +as I may. This realm and city are the appanage of my +husband. He is a right rich lord, of high lineage, but +old and very full of years. Also he is jealous beyond +all measure; therefore it is that I see you now. By +reason of his jealousy he has shut me fast between +high walls, entered by one narrow door, with an ancient +priest to keep the key. May God requite him for his +deed. Night and day I am guarded in this prison, +from whence I may never go forth, without the knowledge +of my lord. Here are my chamber and my chapel, and +here I live, with this, my maiden, to bear me company. +If it pleases you to dwell here for a little, till you may +pass upon your way, right gladly we shall receive you, +and with a good heart we will tend your wound, till +you are healed."</p> + +<p>When Gugemar heard this speech he rejoiced greatly. +He thanked the lady with many sweet words, and +consented to sojourn in her hall awhile. He raised himself +upon his couch, and by the courtesy of the damsels left +the ship. Leaning heavily upon the lady, at the end +he won to her maiden's chamber, where there was a +fair bed covered with a rich dossal of broidered silk, +edged with fur. When he was entered in this bed, the +damsels came bearing clear water in basins of gold, +for the cleansing of his hurt. They stanched the blood +with a towel of fine linen, and bound the wound strictly, +to his exceeding comfort. So after the vesper meal was +eaten, the lady departed to her own chamber, leaving +the knight in much ease and content.</p> + +<p>Now Gugemar set his love so fondly upon the lady +that he forgot his father's house. He thought no more +of the anguish of his hurt, because of another wound +that was beneath his breast. He tossed and sighed in +his unrest, and prayed the maiden of his service to depart, +so that he might sleep a little. When the maid was gone, +Gugemar considered within himself whether he might +seek the dame, to know whether her heart was warmed +by any ember of the flame that burned in his. He turned +it this way and that, and knew not what to do. This +only was clear, that if the lady refused to search his +wound, death, for him, was sure and speedy.</p> + +<p>"Alas," said he, "what shall I do! Shall I go to my +lady, and pray her pity on the wretch who has none +to give him counsel? If she refuse my prayer, because +of her hardness and pride, I shall know there is nought +for me but to die in my sorrow, or, at least, to go heavily +all the days of my life."</p> + +<p>Then he sighed, and in his sighing lighted on a better +purpose; for he said within himself that doubtless +he was born to suffer, and that the best of him was tears. +All the long night he spent in vigil and groanings and +watchfulness. To himself he told over her words and +her semblance. He remembered the eyes and the fair +mouth of his lady, and all the grace and the sweetness, +which had struck like a knife at his heart. Between +his teeth he cried on her for pity, and for a little more +would have called her to his side. Ah, had he but +known the fever of the lady, and how terrible a lord +to her was Love, how great had been his joy and solace. +His visage would have been the more sanguine, which +was now so pale of colour, because of the dolour that +was his. But if the knight was sick by reason of his +love, the dame had small cause to boast herself of +health. The lady rose early from her bed, since she +might not sleep. She complained of her unrest, and of +Love who rode her so hardly. The maiden, who was +of her company, saw clearly enough that all her lady's +thoughts were set upon the knight, who, for his healing, +sojourned in the chamber. She did not know whether his +thoughts were given again to the dame. When, therefore, +the lady had entered in the chapel, the damsel went +straightway to the knight. He welcomed her gladly, +and bade her be seated near the bed. Then he inquired, +"Friend, where now is my lady, and why did she +rise so early from her bed?"</p> + +<p>Having spoken so far, he became silent, and sighed.</p> + +<p>"Sir," replied the maiden softly, "you love, and are +discreet, but be not too discreet therein. In such a +love as yours there is nothing to be ashamed. He who +may win my lady's favour has every reason to be proud +of his fortune. Altogether seemly would be your +friendship, for you are young, and she is fair."</p> + +<p>The knight made answer to the maiden, +"I am so fast in the snare, that I pray the fowler +to slay me, if she may not free me from the net. Counsel +me, fair sweet friend, if I may hope of kindness at her +hand."</p> + +<p>Then the maiden of her sweetness comforted the knight, +and assured him of all the good that she was able. So +courteous and debonair was the maid.</p> + +<p>When the lady had heard Mass, she hastened back +to the chamber. She had not forgotten her friend, +and greatly she desired to know whether he was awake +or asleep, of whom her heart was fain. She bade her +maiden to summon him to her chamber, for she had a +certain thing in her heart to show him at leisure, were +it for the joy or the sorrow of their days.</p> + +<p>Gugemar saluted the lady, and the dame returned +the knight his courtesy, but their hearts were too +fearful for speech. The knight dared ask nothing of +his lady, for reason that he was a stranger in a strange +land, and was adread to show her his love. But—as +says the proverb—he who will not tell of his sore, may +not hope for balm to his hurt. Love is a privy wound +within the heart, and none knoweth of that bitterness +but the heart alone. Love is an evil which may last +for a whole life long, because of man and his constant +heart. Many there be who make of Love a gibe and a +jest, and with specious words defame him by boastful +tales. But theirs is not love. Rather it is folly and +lightness, and the tune of a merry song. But let him +who has found a constant lover prize her above rubies, +and serve her with loyal service, being altogether at +her will. Gugemar loved in this fashion, and therefore +Love came swiftly to his aid. Love put words in his +mouth, and courage in his heart, so that his hope might +be made plain.</p> + +<p>"Lady," said he, "I die for your love. I am in fever +because of my wound, and if you care not to heal my +hurt I would rather die. Fair friend, I pray you for +grace. Do not gainsay me with evil words."</p> + +<p>The lady hearkened with a smile to Gugemar's +speech. Right daintily and sweetly she replied, +"Friend, yea is not a word of two letters. I do not +grant such a prayer every day of the week, and must +you have your gift so quickly?"</p> + +<p>"Lady," cried he, "for God's sake pity me, and take +it not amiss. She, who loves lightly, may make her +lover pray for long, so that she may hide how often her +feet have trodden the pathway with another friend. +But the honest dame, when she has once given her heart +to a friend, will not deny his wish because of pride. +The rather she will find her pride in humbleness, and +love him again with the same love he has set on her. +So they will be glad together, and since none will have +knowledge or hearing of the matter, they will rejoice +in their youth. Fair, sweet lady, be this thy pleasure?"</p> + +<p>When the lady heard these words well she found them +honest and true. Therefore without further prayings +and ado she granted Gugemar her love and her kiss. +Henceforward Gugemar lived greatly at his ease, for +he had sight and speech of his friend, and many a time +she granted him her embrace and tenderness, as is the +wont of lovers when alone.</p> + +<p>For a year and a half Gugemar dwelt with his lady, +in solace and great delight. Then Fortune turned her +wheel, and in a trice cast those down, whose seat had +been so high. Thus it chanced to them, for they were +spied upon and seen.</p> + +<p>On a morning in summer time the Queen and the +damoiseau sat fondly together. The knight embraced +her, eyes and face, but the lady stayed him, saying, +"Fair sweet friend, my heart tells me that I shall +lose you soon, for this hidden thing will quickly be made +clear. If you are slain, may the same sword kill me. +But if you win forth, well I know that you will find +another love, and that I shall be left alone with my +thoughts. Were I parted from you, may God give me +neither joy, nor rest, nor peace, if I would seek another +friend. Of that you need have no fear. Friend, for surety +and comfort of my heart deliver me now some sark +of thine. Therein I will set a knot, and make this +covenant with you, that never will you put your love +on dame or maiden, save only on her who shall first +unfasten this knot. Then you will ever keep faith with +me, for so cunning shall be my craft, that no woman +may hope to unravel that coil, either by force or guile, +or even with her knife."</p> + +<p>So the knight rendered the sark to his lady, and made +such bargain as she wished, for the peace and assurance +of her mind.</p> + +<p>For his part the knight took a fair girdle, and girt +it closely about the lady's middle. Right secret was the +clasp and buckle of this girdle. Therefore he required +of the dame that she would never grant her love, save +to him only, who might free her from the strictness of +this bond, without injury to band or clasp. Then they +kissed together, and entered into such covenant as you +have heard.</p> + +<p>That very day their hidden love was made plain to +men. A certain chamberlain was sent by that ancient +lord with a message to the Queen. This unlucky wretch, +finding that in no wise could he enter within the chamber, +looked through the window, and saw. Forthwith he +hastened to the King, and told him that which he had +seen. When the agèd lord understood these words, +never was there a sadder man than he. He called +together the most trusty sergeants of his guard, and +coming with them to the Queen's chamber, bade them +to thrust in the door. When Gugemar was found therein, +the King commanded that he should be slain with the +sword, by reason of the anguish that was his. Gugemar +was in no whit dismayed by the threat. He started to +his feet, and gazing round, marked a stout rod of fir, +on which it is the use for linen to be hung. This he +took in hand, and faced his foes, bidding them have a +care, for he would do a mischief to them all. The King +looked earnestly upon the fearless knight, inquiring +of him who he was, and where he was born, and in what +manner he came to dwell within his house. So Gugemar +told over to him this story of his fate. He showed him +of the Beast that he had wounded to his hurt; of the +nave, and of his bitter wound; of how he came within +the realm, and of the lady's surgery. He told all to +the ancient lord, to the last moment when he stood within +his power. The King replied that he gave no credence +to his word, nor believed that the story ran as he had +said. If, however, the vessel might be found, he would +commit the knight again to the waves. He would go +the more heavily for the knight's saining, and a +glad day would it be if he made shipwreck at sea. +When they had entered into this covenant together, +they went forth to the harbour, and there discovered +the barge, even as Gugemar had said. So they set +him thereon, and prayed him to return unto his own +realm.</p> + +<p>Without sail or oar the ship parted from that coast, +with no further tarrying. The knight wept and wrung +his hands, complaining of his lady's loss, and of her +cherishing. He prayed the mighty God to grant him +speedy death, and never to bring him home, save to +meet again with her who was more desirable than life. +Whilst he was yet at his orisons, the ship drew again +to that port, from whence she had first come. Gugemar +made haste to get him from the vessel, so that he +might the more swiftly return to his own land. He +had gone but a little way when he was aware of a +squire of his household, riding in the company of a certain +knight. This squire held the bridle of a destrier in his +hand, though no man rode thereon. Gugemar called +to him by name, so that the varlet looking upon him, +knew again his lord. He got him to his feet, and bringing +the destrier to his master, set the knight thereon. Great +was the joy, and merry was the feast, when Gugemar +returned to his own realm. But though his friends did +all that they were able, neither song nor game could +cheer the knight, nor turn him from dwelling in his +unhappy thoughts. For peace of mind they urged that +he took to himself a wife, but Gugemar would have +none of their counsel. Never would he wed a wife, on +any day, either for love or for wealth, save only that +she might first unloose the knot within his shirt. When +this news was noised about the country, there was neither +dame nor damsel in the realm of Brittany, but essayed +to unfasten the knot. But there was no lady who could +gain to her wish, whether by force or guile.</p> + +<p>Now will I show of that lady, whom Gugemar so +fondly loved. By the counsel of a certain baron the +ancient King set his wife in prison. She was shut fast +in a tower of grey marble, where her days were bad, +and her nights worse. No man could make clear to you +the great pain, the anguish and the dolour, that she +suffered in this tower, wherein, I protest, she died daily. +Two years and more she lay bound in prison, where +warders came, but never joy or delight. Often she +thought upon her friend.</p> + +<p>"Gugemar, dear lord, in an evil hour I saw you with +my eyes. Better for me that I die quickly, than endure +longer my evil lot. Fair friend, if I could but win to +that coast whence you sailed, very swiftly would I +fling myself in the sea, and end my wretched life." +When she had said these words she rose to her feet, +and coming to the door was amazed to find therein +neither bolt nor key. She issued forth, without challenge +from sergeant or warder, and hastening to the harbour, +found there her lover's ship, made fast to that very +rock, from which she would cast her down. When she +saw the barge she climbed thereon, but presently +bethought her that on this nave her friend had gone +to perish in the sea. At this thought she would have +fled again to the shore, but her bones were as water, and +she fell upon the deck. So in sore travail and sorrow, +the vessel carried her across the waves, to a port of +Brittany, guarded by a castle, strong and very fair. +Now the lord of this castle was named Meriadus. He +was a right warlike prince, and had made him ready to +fight with the prince of a country near by. He had +risen very early in the morning, to send forth a great +company of spears, the more easily to ravage this +neighbour's realm. Meriadus looked forth from his +window, and marked the ship which came to port. +He hastened down the steps of the perron, and calling to +his chamberlain, came with what speed he might to +the nave. Then mounting the ladder he stood upon +the deck. When Meriadus found within the ship a +dame, who for beauty seemed rather a fay than a mere +earthly woman, he seized her by her mantle, and brought +her swiftly to his keep. Right joyous was he because +of his good fortune, for lovely was the lady beyond +mortal measure. He made no question as to who had +set her on the barge. He knew only that she was fair, +and of high lineage, and that his heart turned towards +her with so hot a love as never before had he put on +dame or damsel. Now there dwelt within the castle +a sister of this lord, who was yet unwed. Meriadus +bestowed the lady in his sister's chamber, because it +was the fairest in the tower. Moreover he commanded +that she should be meetly served, and held in all reverence. +But though the dame was so richly clothed and +cherished, ever was she sad and deep in thought. +Meriadus came often to cheer her with mirth and speech, +by reason that he wished to gain her love as a free gift, +and not by force. It was in vain that he prayed her for +grace, since she had no balm for his wound. For answer +she showed him the girdle about her body, saying that +never would she give her love to man, save only to him +who might unloose the buckle of that girdle, without +harm to belt or clasp. When Meriadus heard these +words, he spoke in haste and said,</p> + +<p>"Lady, there dwells in this country a very worthy +knight, who will take no woman as wife, except she +first untie a certain crafty knot in the hem of a shirt, +and that without force or knife. For a little I would +wager that it was you who tied this knot."</p> + +<p>When the lady heard thereof her breath went from +her, and near she came to falling on the ground. +Meriadus caught her in his arms, and cut the laces of +her bodice, that she might have the more air. He +strove to unfasten her girdle, but might not dissever the +clasp. Yea, though every knight in the realm essayed +to unfasten that cincture, it would not yield, except +to one alone.</p> + +<p>Now Meriadus made the lists ready for a great +jousting, and called to that tournament all the knights +who would aid him in his war. Many a lord came at his +bidding, and with them Gugemar, amongst the first. +Meriadus had sent letters to the knight, beseeching +him, as friend and companion, not to fail him in this +business. So Gugemar hastened to the need of his +lord, and at his back more than one hundred spears. +All these Meriadus welcomed very gladly, and gave +them lodging within his tower. In honour of his guest, +the prince sent two gentlemen to his sister, praying +her to attire herself richly, and come to hall, together +with the dame whom he loved so dearly well. These +did as they were bidden, and arrayed in their sweetest +vesture, presently entered in the hall, holding each other +by the hand. Very pale and pensive was the lady, but +when she heard her lover's name her feet failed beneath +her, and had not the maiden held her fast, she would +have fallen on the floor. Gugemar rose from his seat +at the sight of the dame, her fashion and her semblance, +and stood staring upon her. He went a little apart, +and said within himself, +"Can this be my sweet friend, my hope, my heart, +my life, the fair lady who gave me the grace of her love? +From whence comes she; who might have brought her +to this far land? But I speak in my folly, for well I +know that this is not my dear. A little red, a little +white, and all women are thus shapen. My thoughts +are troubled, by reason that the sweetness of this lady +resembles the sweetness of that other, for whom my heart +sighs and trembles. Yet needs must that I have speech +of the lady."</p> + +<p>Gugemar drew near to the dame. He kissed her +courteously, and found no word to utter, save to pray +that he might be seated at her side. Meriadus spied +upon them closely, and was the more heavy because +of their trouble. Therefore he feigned mirth.</p> + +<p>"Gugemar, dear lord, if it pleases you, let this damsel +essay to untie the knot of your sark, if so be she may +loosen the coil."</p> + +<p>Gugemar made answer that very willingly he would +do this thing. He called to him a squire who had the +shirt in keeping, and bade him seek his charge, and +deliver it to the dame. The lady took the sark in hand. +Well she knew the knot that she had tied so cunningly, +and was so willing to unloose; but for reason of the +trouble at her heart, she did not dare essay. Meriadus +marked the distress of the damsel, and was more +sorrowful than ever was lover before.</p> + +<p>"Lady," said he, "do all that you are able to unfasten +this coil."</p> + +<p>So at his commandment she took again to her the +hem of the shirt, and lightly and easily unravelled the +tie.</p> + +<p>Gugemar marvelled greatly when he saw this thing. +His heart told him that of a truth this was his lady, +but he could not give faith to his eyes.</p> + +<p>"Friend, are you indeed the sweet comrade I have +known? Tell me truly now, is there about your body +the girdle with which I girt you in your own realm?"</p> + +<p>He set his hands to her waist, and found that the +secret belt was yet about her sides.</p> +<br> + +<p>"Fair sweet friend, tell me now by what adventure +I find you here, and who has brought you to this tower?"</p> + +<p>So the lady told over to her friend the pain and the +anguish and the dolour of the prison in which she was +held; of how it chanced that she fled from her dungeon, +and lighting upon a ship, entered therein, and came +to this fair haven; of how Meriadus took her from the +barge, but kept her in all honour, save only that ever +he sought for her love; "but now, fair friend, all is well, +for you hold your lady in your arms."</p> + +<p>Gugemar stood upon his feet, and beckoned with his +hand.</p> + +<p>"Lords," he cried, "hearken now to me. I have +found my friend, whom I have lost for a great while. +Before you all I pray and require of Meriadus to yield +me my own. For this grace I give him open thanks. +Moreover I will kneel down, and become his liege man. +For two years, or three, if he will, I will bargain to serve +in his quarrels, and with me, of riders, a hundred or +more at my back."</p> + +<p>Then answered Meriadus, +"Gugemar, fair friend, I am not yet so shaken or +overborne in war, that I must do as you wish, right +humbly. This woman is my captive. I found her: +I hold her: and I will defend my right against you +and all your power."</p> + +<p>When Gugemar heard these proud words he got to +horse speedily, him and all his company. He threw +down his glove, and parted in anger from the tower. But +he went right heavily, since he must leave behind his +friend. In his train rode all those knights who had drawn +together to that town for the great tournament. Not +a knight of them all but plighted faith to follow where he +led, and to hold himself recreant and shamed if he failed +his oath.</p> +<br> + +<p>That same night the band came to the castle of the +prince with whom Meriadus was at war. He welcomed +them very gladly, and gave them lodging in his tower. +By their aid he had good hope to bring this quarrel to +an end. Very early in the morning the host came together +to set the battle in array. With clash of mail and noise +of horns they issued from the city gate, Gugemar riding +at their head. They drew before the castle where +Meriadus lay in strength, and sought to take it by storm. +But the keep was very strong, and Meriadus bore himself +as a stout and valiant knight. So Gugemar, like a wary +captain, sat himself down before the town, till all the folk +of that place were deemed by friend and sergeant to be +weak with hunger. Then they took that high keep with +the sword, and burnt it with fire. The lord thereof they +slew in his own hall; but Gugemar came forth, after +such labours as you have heard, bearing his lady with +him, to return in peace to his own land.</p> + +<p>From this adventure that I have told you, has come +the Lay that minstrels chant to harp and viol—fair +is that song and sweet the tune.</p> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="III"></a><h2>III</h2> + +<p>THE LAY OF THE DOLOROUS KNIGHT</p> +<br> + +<p>Hearken now to the Lay that once I heard a minstrel +chanting to his harp. In surety of its truth I will +name the city where this story passed. The Lay of the +Dolorous Knight, my harper called his song, but of those +who hearkened, some named it rather, The Lay of the +Four Sorrows.</p> + +<p>In Nantes, of Brittany, there dwelt a dame who was +dearly held of all, for reason of the much good that +was found in her. This lady was passing fair of body, +apt in book as any clerk, and meetly schooled in every +grace that it becometh dame to have. So gracious of +person was this damsel, that throughout the realm there +was no knight could refrain from setting his heart upon +her, though he saw her but one only time. Although the +demoiselle might not return the love of so many, certainly +she had no wish to slay them all. Better by far that a +man pray and require in love all the dames of his country, +than run mad in woods for the bright eyes of one. +Therefore this dame gave courtesy and good will to each +alike. Even when she might not hear a lover's words, so +sweetly she denied his wish that the more he held her dear +and was the more her servant for that fond denial. So +because of her great riches of body and of heart, this lady +of whom I tell, was prayed and required in love by +the lords of her country, both by night and by day.</p> + +<p>Now in Brittany lived four young barons, but their +names I cannot tell. It is enough that they were desirable +in the eyes of maidens for reason of their beauty, and +that men esteemed them because they were courteous of +manner and open of hand. Moreover they were stout and +hardy knights amongst the spears, and rich and worthy +gentlemen of those very parts. Each of these four knights +had set his heart upon the lady, and for love of her +pained himself mightily, and did all that he was able, so +that by any means he might gain her favour. Each +prayed her privily for her love, and strove all that he +could to make him worthy of the gift, above his fellows. +For her part the lady was sore perplexed, and considered +in her mind very earnestly, which of these four knights +she should take as friend. But since they all were +loyal and worthy gentlemen, she durst not choose +amongst them; for she would not slay three lovers +with her hand so that one might have content. Therefore +to each and all, the dame made herself fair and +sweet of semblance. Gifts she gave to all alike. Tender +messages she sent to each. Every knight deemed himself +esteemed and favoured above his fellows, and by soft +words and fair service diligently strove to please. When +the knights gathered together for the games, each of +these lords contended earnestly for the prize, so that he +might be first, and draw on him the favour of his dame. +Each held her for his friend. Each bore upon him her +gift—pennon, or sleeve, or ring. Each cried her name +within the lists.</p> + +<p>Now when Eastertide was come, a great tournament +was proclaimed to be held beyond the walls of Nantes, +that rich city. The four lovers were the appellants in +this tourney, and from every realm knights rode to +break a lance in honour of their dame. Frenchman +and Norman and Fleming; the hardiest knights of +Brabant, Boulogne and Anjou; each came to do his +devoir in the field. Nor was the chivalry of Nantes +backward in this quarrel, but till the vespers of the +tournament was come, they stayed themselves within +the lists, and struck stoutly for their lord. After the +four lovers had laced their harness upon them, they +issued forth from the city, followed by the knights who +were of their company in this adventure. But upon the +four fell the burden of the day, for they were known +of all by the embroidered arms upon their surcoat, +and the device fashioned on the shield. Now against +the four lovers arrayed themselves four other knights, +armed altogether in coats of mail, and helmets and +gauntlets of steel. Of these stranger knights two were +of Hainault, and the two others were Flemings. When +the four lovers saw their adversaries prepare themselves +for the combat, they had little desire to flee, but hastened +to join them in battle. Each lowered his spear, and +choosing his enemy, met him so eagerly that all men +wondered, for horse and man fell to the earth. The +four lovers recked little of their destriers, but freeing +their feet from the stirrups bent over the fallen foe, +and called on him to yield. When the friends of the +vanquished knights saw their case, they hastened to +their succour; so for their rescue there was a great press, +and many a mighty stroke with the sword.</p> + +<p>The damsel stood upon a tower to watch these feats +of arms. By their blazoned coats and shields she knew +her knights; she saw their marvellous deeds, yet might +not say who did best, nor give to one the praise. But +the tournament was no longer a seemly and ordered +battle. The ranks of the two companies were confused +together, so that every man fought against his fellow, +and none might tell whether he struck his comrade or +his foe. The four lovers did well and worshipfully, so +that all men deemed them worthy of the prize. But +when evening was come, and the sport drew to its close, +their courage led them to folly. Having ventured too +far from their companions, they were set upon by their +adversaries, and assailed so fiercely that three were +slain outright. As to the fourth he yet lived, but +altogether mauled and shaken, for his thigh was broken, +and a spear head remained in his side. The four bodies +were fallen on the field, and lay with those who had +perished in that day. But because of the great mischief +these four lovers had done their adversaries, their +shields were cast despitefully without the lists; but +in this their foemen did wrongfully, and all men held +them in sore displeasure.</p> + +<p>Great were the lamentation and the cry when the +news of this mischance was noised about the city. Such +a tumult of mourning was never before heard, for the +whole city was moved. All men hastened forth to the +place where the lists were set. Meetly to mourn the +dead there rode nigh upon two thousand knights, with +hauberks unlaced, and uncovered heads, plucking upon +their beards. So the four lovers were placed each upon +his shield, and being brought back in honour to Nantes, +were carried to the house of that dame, whom so greatly +they had loved. When the lady knew this distressful +adventure, straightway she fell to the ground. Being +returned from her swoon, she made her complaint, +calling upon her lovers each by his name.</p> + +<p>"Alas," said she, "what shall I do, for never shall +I know happiness again. These four knights had set their +hearts upon me, and despite their great treasure, +esteemed my love as richer than all their wealth. Alas, +for the fair and valiant knight! Alas, for the loyal and +generous man! By gifts such as these they sought to +gain my favour, but how might lady bereave three of +life, so as to cherish one. Even now I cannot tell for +whom I have most pity, or who was closest to my mind. +But three are dead, and one is sore stricken; neither +is there anything in the world which can bring me +comfort. Only this is there to do—to give the slain +men seemly burial, and, if it may be, to heal their +comrade of his wounds."</p> + +<p>So, because of her great love and nobleness, the lady +caused these three distressful knights to be buried well +and worshipfully in a rich abbey. In that place she +offered their Mass penny, and gave rich offerings of +silver and of lights besides. May God have mercy +on them in that day. As for the wounded knight +she commanded him to be carried to her own chamber. +She sent for surgeons, and gave him into their hands. +These searched his wounds so skilfully, and tended him +with so great care, that presently his hurt commenced +to heal. Very often was the lady in the chamber, and +very tenderly she cherished the stricken man. Yet ever +she felt pity for the three Knights of the Sorrows, and +ever she went heavily by reason of their deaths.</p> + +<p>Now on a summer's day, the lady and the knight +sat together after meat. She called to mind the sorrow +that was hers; so that, in a space, her head fell upon +her breast, and she gave herself altogether to her grief. +The knight looked earnestly upon his dame. Well he +might see that she was far away, and clearly he perceived +the cause.</p> + +<p>"Lady," said he, "you are in sorrow. Open now +your grief to me. If you tell me what is in your heart +perchance I may find you comfort."</p> + +<p>"Fair friend," replied she, "I think of what is gone, +and remember your companions, who are dead. Never +was lady of my peerage, however fair and good and +gracious, ever loved by four such valiant gentlemen, +nor ever lost them in one single day. Save you—who +were so maimed and in such peril—all are gone. Therefore +I call to mind those who loved me so dearly, and am +the saddest lady beneath the sun. To remember these +things, of you four I shall make a Lay, and will call it +the Lay of the Four Sorrows."</p> + +<p>When the knight heard these words he made answer +very swiftly, +"Lady, name it not the Lay of the Four Sorrows, +but, rather, the Lay of the Dolorous Knight. Would +you hear the reason why it should bear this name? +My three comrades have finished their course; they +have nothing more to hope of their life. They are gone, +and with them the pang of their great sorrow, and the +knowledge of their enduring love for you. I alone have +come, all amazed and fearful, from the net wherein +they were taken, but I find my life more bitter than my +comrades found the grave. I see you on your goings +and comings about the house. I may speak with you +both matins and vespers. But no other joy do I get— +neither clasp nor kiss, nothing but a few empty, courteous +words. Since all these evils are come upon me because +of you, I choose death rather than life. For this reason +your Lay should bear my name, and be called the Lay +of the Dolorous Knight. He who would name it the +Lay of the Four Sorrows would name it wrongly, and +not according to the truth."</p> + +<p>"By my faith," replied the lady, "this is a fair +saying. So shall the song be known as the Lay of the +Dolorous Knight."</p> + +<p>Thus was the Lay conceived, made perfect, and +brought to a fair birth. For this reason it came by its +name; though to this day some call it the Lay of the +Four Sorrows. Either name befits it well, for the story +tells of both these matters, but it is the use and wont +in this land to call it the Lay of the Dolorous Knight. +Here it ends; no more is there to say. I heard no +more, and nothing more I know. Perforce I bring my +story to a close.</p> + +<a name="IV"></a><h2>IV</h2> + +<p>THE LAY OF ELIDUC</p> +<br> + +<p>Now will I rehearse before you a very ancient Breton +Lay. As the tale was told to me, so, in turn, will I tell +it over again, to the best of my art and knowledge. +Hearken now to my story, its why and its reason.</p> + +<p>In Brittany there lived a knight, so courteous and so +brave, that in all the realm there was no worthier lord than +he. This knight was named Eliduc. He had wedded in +his youth a noble lady of proud race and name. They +had long dwelt together in peace and content, for their +hearts were fixed on one another in faith and loyalty. +Now it chanced that Eliduc sought his fortune in a +far land, where there was a great war. There he loved +a Princess, the daughter of the King and Queen of those +parts. Guillardun was the maiden's name, and in all +the realm was none more fair. The wife of Eliduc had to +name, Guildeluec, in her own country. By reason of +these two ladies their story is known as the Lay of Guildeluec +and Guillardun, but at first it was rightly called +the Lay of Eliduc. The name is a little matter; but +if you hearken to me you shall learn the story of these +three lovers, in its pity and its truth.</p> + +<p>Eliduc had as lord and suzerain, the King of Brittany +over Sea. The knight was greatly loved and cherished +of his prince, by reason of his long and loyal service. +When the King's business took him from his realm, +Eliduc was his master's Justice and Seneschal. He +governed the country well and wisely, and held it from +the foe with a strong hand. Nevertheless, in spite of +all, much evil was appointed unto him. Eliduc was a +mighty hunter, and by the King's grace, he would chase +the stag within the woods. He was cunning and fair as +Tristan, and so wise in venery, that the oldest forester +might not gainsay him in aught concerning the shaw. +But by reason of malice and envy, certain men accused +him to the King that he had meddled with the royal +pleasaunce. The King bade Eliduc to avoid his Court. +He gave no reason for his commandment, and the knight +might learn nothing of the cause. Often he prayed the +King that he might know whereof he was accused. +Often he begged his lord not to heed the specious and +crafty words of his foes. He called to mind the wounds +he had gained in his master's wars, but was answered +never a word. When Eliduc found that he might get +no speech with his lord, it became his honour to depart. +He returned to his house, and calling his friends around +him, opened out to them this business of the King's +wrath, in recompense for his faithful service.</p> + +<p>"I did not reckon on a King's gratitude; but as the +proverb says, it is useless for a farmer to dispute with +the horse in his plough. The wise and virtuous man +keeps faith to his lord, and bears goodwill to his neighbour, +not for what he may receive in return."</p> + +<p>Then the knight told his friends that since he might +no longer stay in his own country, he should cross the +sea to the realm of Logres, and sojourn there awhile, +for his solace. His fief he placed in the hands of his wife, +and he required of his men, and of all who held him +dear, that they would serve her loyally. Having given +good counsel to the utmost of his power, the knight +prepared him for the road. Right heavy were his friends +and kin, that he must go forth from amongst them.</p> + +<p>Eliduc took with him ten knights of his household, and +set out on his journey. His dame came with him so far +as she was able, wringing her hands, and making much +sorrow, at the departure of her husband. At the end +he pledged good faith to her, as she to him, and so she +returned to her own home. Eliduc went his way, till +he came to a haven on the sea. He took ship, and sailed +to the realm of Totenois, for many kings dwell in that +country, and ever there were strife and war. Now, +near to Exeter, in this land, there dwelt a King, right +rich and strong, but old and very full of years. He had +no son of his body, but one maid only, young, and of +an age to wed. Since he would not bestow this damsel +on a certain prince of his neighbours, this lord made +mortal war upon his fellow, spoiling and wasting all +his land. The ancient King, for surety, had set his +daughter within a castle, fair and very strong. He had +charged the sergeants not to issue forth from the gates, +and for the rest there was none so bold as to seek to +storm the keep, or even to joust about the barriers. +When Eliduc was told of this quarrel, he needed to go +no farther, and sojourned for awhile in the land. He +turned over in his mind which of these princes dealt +unjustly with his neighbour. Since he deemed that the +agèd king was the more vexed and sorely pressed in +the matter, he resolved to aid him to the best of his +might, and to take arms in his service. Eliduc, therefore, +wrote letters to the King, telling him that he had +quitted his own country, and sought refuge in the King's +realm. For his part he was willing to fight as a mercenary +in the King's quarrel, and if a safe conduct were +given him, he and the knights of his company would +ride, forthwith, to their master's aid. This letter, +Eliduc sent by the hands of his squires to the King. +When the ancient lord had read the letter, he rejoiced +greatly, and made much of the messengers. He summoned +his constable, and commanded him swiftly to +write out the safe conduct, that would bring the baron +to his side. For the rest he bade that the messengers +meetly should be lodged and apparelled, and that such +money should be given them as would be sufficient to +their needs. Then he sealed the safe conduct with his +royal seal, and sent it to Eliduc, straightway, by a sure +hand.</p> + +<p>When Eliduc came in answer to the summons, he +was received with great honour by the King. His +lodging was appointed in the house of a grave and +courteous burgess of the city, who bestowed the fairest +chamber on his guest. Eliduc fared softly, both at bed +and board. He called to his table such good knights +as were in misease, by reason of prison or of war. He +charged his men that none should be so bold as to take +pelf or penny from the citizens of the town, during the +first forty days of their sojourn. But on the third day, +it was bruited about the streets, that the enemy were +near at hand. The country folk deemed that they +approached to invest the city, and to take the gates +by storm. When the noise and clamour of the fearful +burgesses came to the ears of Eliduc, he and his company +donned their harness, and got to horse, as quickly as +they might. Forty horsemen mounted with him; as +to the rest, many lay sick or hurt within the city, and +others were captives in the hands of the foe. These +forty stout sergeants waited for no sounding of trumpets; +they hastened to seek their captain at his lodging, and +rode at his back through the city gate.</p> + +<p>"Sir," said they, "where you go, there we will follow, +and what you bid us, that shall we do."</p> + +<p>"Friends," made answer the knight, "I thank you +for your fellowship. There is no man amongst us but +who wishes to molest the foe, and do them all the mischief +that he is able. If we await them in the town, we +defend ourselves with the shield, and not with the +sword. To my mind it is better to fall in the field than +to hide behind walls; but if any of you have a wiser +counsel to offer, now let him speak."</p> + +<p>"Sir," replied a soldier of the company, "through +the wood, in good faith, there runs a path, right strict +and narrow. It is the wont of the enemy to approach +our city by this track. After their deeds of arms before +the walls, it is their custom to return by the way they +came, helmet on saddle bow, and hauberk unbraced. +If we might catch them, unready in the path, we could +trouble them very grievously, even though it be at the +peril of our lives."</p> + +<p>"Friends," answered Eliduc, "you are all the King's +men, and are bound to serve him faithfully, even to +the death. Come, now, with me where I will go, and +do that thing which you shall see me do. I give you my +word as a loyal gentleman, that no harm shall hap to +any. If we gain spoil and riches from the foe, each shall +have his lot in the ransom. At the least we may do them +much hurt and mischief in this quarrel."</p> + +<p>Eliduc set his men in ambush, near by that path, +within the wood. He told over to them, like a cunning +captain, the crafty plan he had devised, and taught them +how to play their parts, and to call upon his name. +When the foe had entered on that perilous path, and +were altogether taken in the snare, Eliduc cried his +name, and summoned his companions to bear themselves +like men. This they did stoutly, and assailed their +enemy so fiercely that he was dismayed beyond measure, +and his line being broken, fled to the forest. In this +fight was the constable taken, together with fifty and +five other lords, who owned themselves prisoners, and +were given to the keeping of the squires. Great was +the spoil in horse and harness, and marvellous was the +wealth they gained in gold and ransom. So having +done such great deeds in so short a space, they returned +to the city, joyous and content.</p> + +<p>The King looked forth from a tower. He feared +grievously for his men, and made his complaint of +Eliduc, who—he deemed—had betrayed him in his need. +Upon the road he saw a great company, charged and +laden with spoil. Since the number of those who +returned was more than those who went forth, the king +knew not again his own. He came down from the tower, +in doubt and sore trouble, bidding that the gates should +be made fast, and that men should mount upon the walls. +For such coil as this, there was slender warrant. A +squire who was sent out, came back with all speed, and +showed him of this adventure. He told over the story of +the ambush, and the tale of the prisoners. He rehearsed +how the constable was taken, and that many a knight +was wounded, and many a brave man slain. When the +King might give credence thereto, he had more joy than +ever king before. He got him from his tower, and going +before Eliduc, he praised him to his face, and rendered +him the captives as a gift. Eliduc gave the King's +bounty to his men. He bestowed on them besides, all +the harness and the spoil; keeping, for his part, but +three knights, who had won much honour in the battle. +From this day the King loved and cherished Eliduc very +dearly. He held the knight, and his company, for a full +year in his service, and at the end of the year, such faith +had he in the knight's loyalty, that he appointed him +Seneschal and Constable of his realm.</p> + +<p>Eliduc was not only a brave and wary captain; he +was also a courteous gentleman, right goodly to behold.</p> + +<p>That fair maiden, the daughter of the King, heard tell +of his deeds, and desired to see his face, because of the +good men spake of him. She sent her privy chamberlain +to the knight, praying him to come to her house, that +she might solace herself with the story of his deeds, for +greatly she wondered that he had no care for her friendship. +Eliduc gave answer to the chamberlain that +he would ride forthwith, since much he desired to +meet so high a dame. He bade his squire to saddle +his destrier, and rode to the palace, to have speech +with the lady. Eliduc stood without the lady's +chamber, and prayed the chamberlain to tell the dame +that he had come, according to her wish. The chamberlain +came forth with a smiling face, and straightway +led him in the chamber. When the princess saw the +knight, she cherished him very sweetly, and welcomed +him in the most honourable fashion. The knight +gazed upon the lady, who was passing fair to see. +He thanked her courteously, that she was pleased to +permit him to have speech with so high a princess. +Guillardun took Eliduc by the hand, and seated him +upon the bed, near her side. They spake together of +many things, for each found much to say. The maiden +looked closely upon the knight, his face and semblance; +to her heart she said that never before had she beheld +so comely a man. Her eyes might find no blemish in +his person, and Love knocked upon her heart, requiring +her to love, since her time had come. She sighed, and her +face lost its fair colour; but she cared only to hide her +trouble from the knight, lest he should think her the +less maidenly therefore. When they had talked together +for a great space, Eliduc took his leave, and went +his way. The lady would have kept him longer gladly, +but since she did not dare, she allowed him to depart. +Eliduc returned to his lodging, very pensive and deep +in thought. He called to mind that fair maiden, +the daughter of his King, who so sweetly had bidden +him to her side, and had kissed him farewell, with +sighs that were sweeter still. He repented him right +earnestly that he had lived so long a while in the land +without seeking her face, but promised that often +he would enter her palace now. Then he remembered +the wife whom he had left in his own house. He +recalled the parting between them, and the covenant +he made, that good faith and stainless honour should +be ever betwixt the twain. But the maiden, from +whom he came, was willing to take him as her knight! +If such was her will, might any pluck him from her +hand?</p> + +<p>All night long, that fair maiden, the daughter of the +King, had neither rest nor sleep. She rose up, very +early in the morning, and commanding her chamberlain, +opened out to him all that was in her heart. She leaned +her brow against the casement.</p> + +<p>"By my faith," she said, "I am fallen into a deep +ditch, and sorrow has come upon me. I love Eliduc, +the good knight, whom my father made his Seneschal. +I love him so dearly that I turn the whole night upon +my bed, and cannot close my eyes, nor sleep. If he +assured me of his heart, and loved me again, all my +pleasure should be found in his happiness. Great +might be his profit, for he would become King of this +realm, and little enough is it for his deserts, so courteous +is he and wise. If he have nothing better than friendship +to give me, I choose death before life, so deep is +my distress."</p> + +<p>When the princess had spoken what it pleased her to +say, the chamberlain, whom she had bidden, gave her +loyal counsel.</p> + +<p>"Lady," said he, "since you have set your love upon +this knight, send him now—if so it please you—some +goodly gift-girdle or scarf or ring. If he receive the +gift with delight, rejoicing in your favour, you may be +assured that he loves you. There is no Emperor, under +Heaven, if he were tendered your tenderness, but would +go the more lightly for your grace."</p> + +<p>The damsel hearkened to the counsel of her chamberlain, +and made reply, +"If only I knew that he desired my love! Did ever +maiden woo her knight before, by asking whether he +loved or hated her? What if he make of me a mock and +a jest in the ears of his friends! Ah, if the secrets of the +heart were but written on the face! But get you ready, +for go you must, at once."</p> + +<p>"Lady," answered the chamberlain, "I am ready to +do your bidding."</p> + +<p>"You must greet the knight a hundred times in my +name, and will place my girdle in his hand, and this my +golden ring."</p> + +<p>When the chamberlain had gone upon his errand, the +maiden was so sick at heart, that for a little she would +have bidden him return. Nevertheless, she let him +go his way, and eased her shame with words.</p> + +<p>"Alas, what has come upon me, that I should put my +heart upon a stranger. I know nothing of his folk, +whether they be mean or high; nor do I know whether he +will part as swiftly as he came. I have done foolishly, +and am worthy of blame, since I have bestowed my +love very lightly. I spoke to him yesterday for +the first time, and now I pray him for his love. +Doubtless he will make me a song! Yet if he be the +courteous gentleman I believe him, he will understand, +and not deal hardly with me. At least the dice are +cast, and if he may not love me, I shall know myself +the most woeful of ladies, and never taste of joy all +the days of my life."</p> +<br> + +<p>Whilst the maiden lamented in this fashion, the chamberlain +hastened to the lodging of Eliduc. He came +before the knight, and having saluted him in his lady's +name, he gave to his hand the ring and the girdle. The +knight thanked him earnestly for the gifts. He placed +the ring upon his finger, and the girdle he girt about his +body. He said no more to the chamberlain, nor asked +him any questions; save only that he proffered him a +gift. This the messenger might not have, and returned +the way he came. The chamberlain entered in the palace +and found the princess within her chamber. He greeted +her on the part of the knight, and thanked her for her +bounty.</p> + +<p>"Diva, diva," cried the lady hastily, "hide nothing +from me; does he love me, or does he not?"</p> + +<p>"Lady," answered the chamberlain, "as I deem, he +loves you, and truly. Eliduc is no cozener with words. +I hold him for a discreet and prudent gentleman, who +knows well how to hide what is in his heart. I gave him +greeting in your name, and granted him your gifts. He +set the ring upon his finger, and as to your girdle, he girt +it upon him, and belted it tightly about his middle. I +said no more to him, nor he to me; but if he received not +your gifts in tenderness, I am the more deceived. Lady, I +have told you his words: I cannot tell you his thoughts. +Only, mark carefully what I am about to say. If +Eliduc had not a richer gift to offer, he would not have +taken your presents at my hand."</p> + +<p>"It pleases you to jest," said the lady. "I know well +that Eliduc does not altogether hate me. Since my only +fault is to cherish him too fondly, should he hate me, +he would indeed be blameworthy. Never again by you, +or by any other, will I require him of aught, or look to +him for comfort. He shall see that a maiden's love is no +slight thing, lightly given, and lightly taken again—but, +perchance, he will not dwell in the realm so long as to +know of the matter."</p> + +<p>"Lady, the knight has covenanted to serve the King, +in all loyalty, for the space of a year. You have full +leisure to tell, whatever you desire him to learn."</p> + +<p>When the maiden heard that Eliduc remained in the +country, she rejoiced very greatly. She was glad that the +knight would sojourn awhile in her city, for she knew +naught of the torment he endured, since first he looked +upon her. He had neither peace nor delight, for he +could not get her from his mind. He reproached himself +bitterly. He called to remembrance the covenant he +made with his wife, when he departed from his own land, +that he would never be false to his oath. But his heart +was a captive now, in a very strong prison. He desired +greatly to be loyal and honest, but he could not deny his +love for the maiden—Guillardun, so frank and so fair.</p> + +<p>Eliduc strove to act as his honour required. He had +speech and sight of the lady, and did not refuse her kiss +and embrace. He never spoke of love, and was diligent +to offend in nothing. He was careful in this, because he +would keep faith with his wife, and would attempt no +matter against his King. Very grievously he pained himself, +but at the end he might do no more. Eliduc +caused his horse to be saddled, and calling his companions +about him, rode to the castle to get audience of +the King. He considered, too, that he might see his +lady, and learn what was in her heart. It was the hour +of meat, and the King having risen from table, had entered +in his daughter's chamber. The King was at chess, +with a lord who had but come from over-sea. The lady +sat near the board, to watch the movements of the game. +When Eliduc came before the prince, he welcomed him +gladly, bidding him to seat himself close at hand. Afterwards +he turned to his daughter, and said, +"Princess, it becomes you to have a closer friendship +with this lord, and to treat him well and worshipfully. +Amongst five hundred, there is no better knight than he."</p> + +<p>When the maiden had listened demurely to her father's +commandment, there was no gayer lady than she. She +rose lightly to her feet, and taking the knight a little from +the others, seated him at her side. They remained silent, +because of the greatness of their love. She did not dare +to speak the first, and to him the maid was more dreadful +than a knight in mail. At the end Eliduc thanked her +courteously for the gifts she had sent him; never was +grace so precious and so kind. The maiden made answer +to the knight, that very dear to her was the use he had +found for her ring, and the girdle with which he had +belted his body. She loved him so fondly that she +wished him for her husband. If she might not have her +wish, one thing she knew well, that she would take no +living man, but would die unwed. She trusted he would +not deny her hope.</p> + +<p>"Lady," answered the knight, "I have great joy in +your love, and thank you humbly for the goodwill you +bear me. I ought indeed to be a happy man, since you +deign to show me at what price you value our friendship. +Have you remembered that I may not remain always in +your realm? I covenanted with the King to serve him +as his man for the space of one year. Perchance I may +stay longer in his service, for I would not leave him till +his quarrel be ended. Then I shall return to my own +land; so, fair lady, you permit me to say farewell."</p> + +<p>The maiden made answer to her knight, +"Fair friend, right sweetly I thank you for your +courteous speech. So apt a clerk will know, without +more words, that he may have of me just what he would. +It becomes my love to give faith to all you say."</p> + +<p>The two lovers spoke together no further; each was +well assured of what was in the other's heart. Eliduc +rode back to his lodging, right joyous and content. +Often he had speech with his friend, and passing great +was the love which grew between the twain.</p> + +<p>Eliduc pressed on the war so fiercely that in the end +he took captive the King who troubled his lord, and had +delivered the land from its foes. He was greatly praised +of all as a crafty captain in the field, and a hardy comrade +with the spear. The poor and the minstrel counted +him a generous knight. About this time that King, +who had bidden Eliduc avoid his realm, sought diligently +to find him. He had sent three messengers beyond the +seas to seek his ancient Seneschal. A strong enemy +had wrought him much grief and loss. All his castles +were taken from him, and all his country was a spoil +to the foe. Often and sorely he repented him of the evil +counsel to which he had given ear. He mourned the +absence of his mightiest knight, and drove from his +councils those false lords who, for malice and envy, +had defamed him. These he outlawed for ever from his +realm. The King wrote letters to Eliduc, conjuring +him by the loving friendship that was once between +them, and summoning him as a vassal is required of +his lord, to hasten to his aid, in that his bitter need. +When Eliduc heard these tidings they pressed heavily +upon him, by reason of the grievous love he bore the +dame. She, too, loved him with a woman's whole heart. +Between the two there was nothing but the purest love +and tenderness. Never by word or deed had they spoiled +their friendship. To speak a little closely together; +to give some fond and foolish gift; this was the sum +of their love. In her wish and hope the maiden trusted +to hold the knight in her land, and to have him as her +lord. Naught she deemed that he was wedded to a wife +beyond the sea.</p> + +<p>"Alas," said Eliduc, "I have loitered too long in +this country, and have gone astray. Here I have set +my heart on a maiden, Guillardun, the daughter of the +King, and she, on me. If, now, we part, there is no +help that one, or both, of us, must die. Yet go I must. +My lord requires me by letters, and by the oath of fealty +that I have sworn. My own honour demands that I +should return to my wife. I dare not stay; needs must +I go. I cannot wed my lady, for not a priest in Christendom +would make us man and wife. All things turn to +blame. God, what a tearing asunder will our parting +be! Yet there is one who will ever think me in the right, +though I be held in scorn of all. I will be guided by her +wishes, and what she counsels that will I do. The King, +her sire, is troubled no longer by any war. First, I will +go to him, praying that I may return to my own land, +for a little, because of the need of my rightful lord. +Then I will seek out the maiden, and show her the whole +business. She will tell me her desire, and I shall act +according to her wish."</p> + +<p>The knight hesitated no longer as to the path he should +follow. He went straight to the King, and craved leave +to depart. He told him the story of his lord's distress, +and read, and placed in the King's hands, the letters +calling him back to his home. When the King had read +the writing, and knew that Eliduc purposed to depart, +he was passing sad and heavy. He offered the knight +the third part of his kingdom, with all the treasure that +he pleased to ask, if he would remain at his side. He +offered these things to the knight—these, and the +gratitude of all his days besides.</p> + +<p>"Do not tempt me, sire," replied the knight. "My +lord is in such deadly peril, and his letters have come +so great a way to require me, that go I must to aid him +in his need. When I have ended my task, I will return +very gladly, if you care for my services, and with me a +goodly company of knights to fight in your quarrels."</p> + +<p>The King thanked Eliduc for his words, and granted +him graciously the leave that he demanded. He gave +him, moreover, all the goods of his house; gold and +silver, hound and horses, silken cloths, both rich and +fair, these he might have at his will. Eliduc took of +them discreetly, according to his need. Then, very +softly, he asked one other gift. If it pleased the King, +right willingly would he say farewell to the princess, +before he went. The King replied that it was his pleasure, +too. He sent a page to open the door of the maiden's +chamber, and to tell her the knight's request. When +she saw him, she took him by the hand, and saluted him +very sweetly. Eliduc was the more fain of counsel +than of claspings. He seated himself by the maiden's +side, and as shortly as he might, commenced to show +her of the business. He had done no more than read her +of his letters, than her face lost its fair colour, and near +she came to swoon. When Eliduc saw her about to +fall, he knew not what he did, for grief. He kissed her +mouth, once and again, and wept above her, very +tenderly. He took, and held her fast in his arms, till +she had returned from her swoon.</p> + +<p>"Fair dear friend," said he softly, "bear with me +while I tell you that you are my life and my death, +and in you is all my comfort. I have bidden farewell +to your father, and purposed to go back to my own land, +for reason of this bitter business of my lord. But my +will is only in your pleasure, and whatever the future +brings me, your counsel I will do."</p> + +<p>"Since you cannot stay," said the maiden, "take +me with you, wherever you go. If not, my life is so +joyless without you, that I would wish to end it with +my knife."</p> + +<p>Very sweetly made answer Sir Eliduc, for in honesty +he loved honest maid, +"Fair friend, I have sworn faith to your father, and +am his man. If I carried you with me, I should give +the lie to my troth. Let this covenant be made between +us. Should you give me leave to return to my own +land I swear to you on my honour as a knight, that I +will come again on any day that you shall name. My +life is in your hands. Nothing on earth shall keep me +from your side, so only that I have life and health."</p> + +<p>Then she, who loved so fondly, granted her knight +permission to depart, and fixed the term, and named the +day for his return. Great was their sorrow that the hour +had come to bid farewell. They gave rings of gold for +remembrance, and sweetly kissed adieu. So they severed +from each other's arms.</p> + +<p>Eliduc sought the sea, and with a fair wind, crossed +swiftly to the other side. His lord was greatly content +to learn the tidings of his knight's return. His friends +and his kinsfolk came to greet him, and the common +folk welcomed him very gladly. But, amongst them all, +none was so blithe at his home-coming as the fair and +prudent lady who was his wife. Despite this show of +friendship, Eliduc was ever sad, and deep in thought. +He went heavily, till he might look upon his friend. +He felt no happiness, nor made pretence of any, till he +should meet with her again. His wife was sick at heart, +because of the coldness of her husband. She took +counsel with her soul, as to what she had done amiss. +Often she asked him privily, if she had come short or +offended in any measure, whilst he was without the +realm. If she was accused by any, let him tell her the +accusation, that she might purge herself of the offence.</p> + +<p>"Wife," answered Eliduc, "neither I, nor any other, +charge you with aught that is against your honour to +do. The cause of my sorrow is in myself. I have pledged +my faith to the King of that country, from whence I +come, that I will return to help him in his need. When +my lord the King has peace in his realm, within eight +days I shall be once more upon the sea. Great travail +I must endure, and many pains I shall suffer, in readiness +for that hour. Return I must, and till then I have no +mind for anything but toil; for I will not give the lie +to my plighted word."</p> + +<p>Eliduc put his fief once more in the hands of his dame. +He sought his lord, and aided him to the best of his +might. By the counsel and prowess of the knight, the +King came again into his own. When the term appointed +by his lady, and the day she named for his return drew +near, Eliduc wrought in such fashion that peace was +accorded between the foes. Then the knight made him +ready for his journey, and took thought to the folk +he should carry with him. His choice fell on two of +his nephews, whom he loved very dearly, and on a +certain chamberlain of his household. These were trusted +servitors, who were of his inmost mind, and knew much +of his counsel. Together with these went his squires, +these only, for Eliduc had no care to take many. All +these, nephew and squire and chamberlain, Eliduc +made to promise, and confirm by an oath, that they +would reveal nothing of his business.</p> + +<p>The company put to sea without further tarrying, +and, crossing quickly, came to that land where Eliduc +so greatly desired to be. The knight sought a hostel +some distance from the haven, for he would not be seen +of any, nor have it bruited that Eliduc was returned. +He called his chamberlain, and sent him to his friend, +bearing letters that her knight had come, according to +the covenant that had been made. At nightfall, before +the gates were made fast, Eliduc issued forth from the +city, and followed after his messenger. He had clothed +himself in mean apparel, and rode at a footpace +straight to the city, where dwelt the daughter of the +King. The chamberlain arrived before the palace, +and by dint of asking and prying, found himself within +the lady's chamber. He saluted the maiden, and told +her that her lover was near. When Guillardun heard +these tidings she was astonied beyond measure, and +for joy and pity wept right tenderly. She kissed the +letters of her friend, and the messenger who brought +such welcome tidings. The chamberlain prayed the lady +to attire and make her ready to join her friend. The +day was spent in preparing for the adventure, according +to such plan as had been devised. When dark was come, +and all was still, the damsel stole forth from the palace, +and the chamberlain with her. For fear that any man +should know her again, the maiden had hidden, beneath +a riding cloak, her silken gown, embroidered with gold. +About the space of a bow shot from the city gate, +there was a coppice standing within a fair meadow. +Near by this wood, Eliduc and his comrades awaited +the coming of Guillardun. When Eliduc saw the lady, +wrapped in her mantle, and his chamberlain leading +her by the hand, he got from his horse, and kissed her +right tenderly. Great joy had his companions at so +fair a sight. He set her on the horse, and climbing +before her, took bridle in glove, and returned to the haven, +with all the speed he might. He entered forthwith in +the ship, which put to sea, having on board none, +save Eliduc, his men, and his lady, Guillardun. With +a fair wind, and a quiet hour, the sailors thought that +they would swiftly come to shore. But when their +journey was near its end, a sudden tempest arose on +the sea. A mighty wind drove them far from their +harbourage, so that their rudder was broken, and their +sail torn from the mast. Devoutly they cried on St. +Nicholas, St. Clement, and Madame St. Mary, to aid +them in this peril. They implored the Mother that she +would approach her Son, not to permit them to perish, +but to bring them to the harbour where they would +come. Without sail or oar, the ship drifted here and +there, at the mercy of the storm. They were very close +to death, when one of the company, with a loud voice +began to cry, +"What need is there of prayers! Sir, you have with +you, her, who brings us to our death. We shall never win +to land, because you, who already have a faithful wife, +seek to wed this foreign woman, against God and His +law, against honour and your plighted troth. Grant us +to cast her in the sea, and straightway the winds and +the waves will be still."</p> + +<p>When Eliduc heard these words he was like to come +to harm for rage.</p> + +<p>"Bad servant and felon traitor," he cried, "you +should pay dearly for your speech, if I might leave my +lady."</p> + +<p>Eliduc held his friend fast in his arms, and cherished +her as well as he was able. When the lady heard that +her knight was already wedded in his own realm, she +swooned where she lay. Her face became pale and discoloured; +she neither breathed nor sighed, nor could +any bring her any comfort. Those who carried her to +a sheltered place, were persuaded that she was but dead, +because of the fury of the storm. Eliduc was passing +heavy. He rose to his feet, and hastening to his squire, +smote him so grievously with an oar, that he fell senseless +on the deck. He haled him by his legs to the side of +the ship and flung the body in the sea, where it was +swiftly swallowed by the waves. He went to the broken +rudder, and governed the nave so skilfully, that it +presently drew to land. So, having come to their fair +haven, they cast anchor, and made fast their bridge to +the shore. Dame Guillardun lay yet in her swoon, and +seemed no other than if she were really dead. Eliduc's +sorrow was all the more, since he deemed that he had +slain her with his hand. He inquired of his companions +in what near place they might lay the lady to her rest, +"for I will not bid her farewell, till she is put in holy +ground with such pomp and rite as befit the obsequies +of the daughter of a King." His comrades answered +him never a word, for they were all bemused by reason +of what had befallen. Eliduc, therefore, considered +within himself to what place he should carry the lady. +His own home was so near the haven where he had +come, that very easily they could ride there before +evening. He called to mind that in his realm there was +a certain great forest, both long and deep. Within +this wood there was a little chapel, served by a holy +hermit for forty years, with whom Eliduc had oftimes +spoken.</p> + +<p>"To this holy man," he said, "I will bear my lady. +In his chapel he shall bury her sweet body. I will endow +him so richly of my lands, that upon her chantry shall +be founded a mighty abbey. There some convent of +monks or nuns or canons shall ever hold her in remembrance, +praying God to grant her mercy in His day."</p> + +<p>Eliduc got to horse, but first took oath of his comrades +that never, by them, should be discovered, that which +they should see. He set his friend before him on the +palfrey, and thus the living and the dead rode together, +till they had entered the wood, and come before the +chapel. The squires called and beat upon the door, but +it remained fast, and none was found to give them any +answer. Eliduc bade that one should climb through a +window, and open the door from within. When they +had come within the chapel they found a new made +tomb, and writ thereon, that the holy hermit having +finished his course, was made perfect, eight days before +Passing sad was Eliduc, and esmayed. His companions +would have digged a second grave, and set therein, his +friend; but the knight would in no wise consent, for—he +said—he purposed to take counsel of the priests +of his country, as to building some church or abbey +above her tomb. "At this hour we will but lay her +body before the altar, and commend her to God His holy +keeping." He commanded them to bring their mantles +and make a bed upon the altar-pace. Thereon they +laid the maiden, and having wrapped her close in her +lover's cloak, left her alone. When the moment came +for Eliduc to take farewell of his lady, he deemed that +his own last hour had come. He kissed her eyes and her +face.</p> + +<p>"Fair friend," said he, "if it be pleasing to God, +never will I bear sword or lance again, or seek the +pleasures of this mortal world. Fair friend, in an ill +hour you saw me! Sweet lady, in a bitter hour you +followed me to death! Fairest, now were you a queen, +were it not for the pure and loyal love you set upon me? +Passing sad of heart am I for you, my friend. The hour +that I have seen you in your shroud, I will take the +habit of some holy order, and every day, upon your +tomb, I will tell over the chaplet of my sorrow."</p> + +<p>Having taken farewell of the maiden, Eliduc came +forth from the chapel, and closed the doors. He sent +messages to his wife, that he was returning to his house, +but weary and overborne. When the dame heard these +tidings, she was happy in her heart, and made ready +to greet him. She received her lord tenderly; but +little joy came of her welcome, for she got neither smiles +in answer, nor tender words in return. She dared not +inquire the reason, during the two days Eliduc remained +in the house. The knight heard Mass very early in the +morning, and then set forth on the road leading to the +chapel where the maiden lay. He found her as he had +parted, for she had not come back from her swoon, +and there was neither stir in her, nor breath. He +marvelled greatly, for he saw her, vermeil and white, +as he had known her in life. She had lost none of her +sweet colour, save that she was a little blanched. He +wept bitterly above her, and entreated for her soul. +Having made his prayer, he went again to his house.</p> + +<p>On a day when Eliduc went forth, his wife called to +her a varlet of her household, commanding him to +follow his lord afar off, and mark where he went, and +on what business. She promised to give him harness +and horses, if he did according to her will. The varlet +hid himself in the wood, and followed so cunningly +after his lord, that he was not perceived. He watched +the knight enter the chapel, and heard the cry and +lamentation that he made. When Eliduc came out, the +varlet hastened to his mistress, and told her what he +had seen, the tears and dolour, and all that befell his +lord within the hermitage. The lady summoned all her +courage.</p> + +<p>"We will go together, as soon as we may, to this +hermitage. My lord tells me that he rides presently to +the Court to speak with the King. I knew that my +husband loved this dead hermit very tenderly, but I +little thought that his loss would make him mad with +grief."</p> + +<p>The next day the dame let her lord go forth in peace. +When, about noon, Eliduc rode to the Court to greet +his King, the lady rose quickly, and carrying the varlet +with her, went swiftly to the hermitage. She entered +the chapel, and saw the bed upon the altar-pace, and +the maiden thereon, like a new sprung rose. Stooping +down the lady removed the mantle. She marked the +rigid body, the long arms, and the frail white hands, +with their slender fingers, folded on the breast. Thus +she learned the secret of the sorrow of her lord. She +called the varlet within the chapel, and showed him +this wonder.</p> + +<p>"Seest thou," she said, "this woman, who for beauty +shineth as a gem! This lady, in her life, was the lover +of my lord. It was for her that all his days were spoiled +by grief. By my faith I marvel little at his sorrow, +since I, who am a woman too, will—for pity's sake or +love—never know joy again, having seen so fair a lady +in the dust."</p> + +<p>So the wife wept above the body of the maiden. +Whilst the lady sat weeping, a weasel came from under +the altar, and ran across Guillardun's body. The varlet +smote it with his staff, and killed it as it passed. He +took the vermin and flung it away. The companion +of this weasel presently came forth to seek him. She +ran to the place where he lay, and finding that he would +not get him on his feet, seemed as one distraught. +She went forth from the chapel, and hastened to the +wood, from whence she returned quickly, bearing a +vermeil flower beneath her teeth. This red flower she +placed within the mouth of that weasel the varlet had +slain, and immediately he stood upon his feet. When +the lady saw this, she cried to the varlet,</p> + +<p>"Throw, man, throw, and gain the flower."</p> + +<p>The servitor flung his staff, and the weasels fled away, +leaving that fair flower upon the floor. The lady rose. +She took the flower, and returned with it swiftly to the +altar pace. Within the mouth of the maiden, she set +a flower that was more vermeil still. For a short space +the dame and the damsel were alike breathless. Then +the maiden came to herself, with a sigh. She opened +her eyes, and commenced to speak.</p> + +<p>"Diva," she said, "have I slept so long, indeed!"</p> + +<p>When the lady heard her voice she gave thanks to +God. She inquired of the maiden as to her name and +degree. The damsel made answer to her, +"Lady, I was born in Logres, and am daughter to +the King of that realm. Greatly there I loved a knight, +named Eliduc, the seneschal of my sire. We fled together +from my home, to my own most grievous fault. +He never told me that he was wedded to a wife in his +own country, and he hid the matter so cunningly, that +I knew naught thereof. When I heard tell of his dame, +I swooned for pure sorrow. Now I find that this false +lover, has, like a felon, betrayed me in a strange land. +What will chance to a maiden in so foul a plight? Great +is that woman's folly who puts her trust in man."</p> + +<p>"Fair damsel," replied the lady, "there is nothing +in the whole world that can give such joy to this felon, +as to hear that you are yet alive. He deems that you +are dead, and every day he beweeps your swoon in the +chapel. I am his wife, and my heart is sick, just for +looking on his sorrow. To learn the reason of his grief, +I caused him to be followed, and that is why I have +found you here. It is a great happiness for me to +know that you live. You shall return with me to my +home, and I will place you in the tenderness of your +friend. Then I shall release him of his marriage troth, +since it is my dearest hope to take the veil."</p> + +<p>When the wife had comforted the maiden with such +words, they went together to her own house. She called +to her servitor, and bade him seek his lord. The varlet +went here and there, till he lighted on Eliduc. He +came before him, and showed him of all these things. +Eliduc mounted straightway on his horse, and waiting +neither for squire or companion, that same night came +to his hall. When he found alive, her, who once was +dead, Eliduc thanked his wife for so dear a gift. He +rejoiced beyond measure, and of all his days, no day +was more happy than this. He kissed the maiden +often, and very sweetly she gave him again his kiss, +for great was the joy between the twain. The dame +looked on their happiness, and knew that her lord +meetly had bestowed his love. She prayed him, therefore, +that he would grant her leave to depart, since she would +serve God as a cloistered nun. Of his wealth she craved +such a portion as would permit her to found a convent. +He would then be able to wed the maiden on whom his +heart was set, for it was neither honest nor seemly that +a man should maintain a wife with either hand.</p> + +<p>Eliduc could do no otherwise than consent. He gave +the permission she asked, and did all according to her +will. He endowed the lady of his lands, near by that +chapel and hermitage, within the wood. There he built +a church with offices and refectory, fair to see. Much +wealth he bestowed on the convent, in money and estate. +When all was brought to a good end, the lady took the +veil upon her head. Thirty other ladies entered in the +house with her, and long she ruled them as their Abbess, +right wisely and well.</p> + +<p>Eliduc wedded with his friend, in great pomp, and +passing rich was the marriage feast. They dwelt in +unity together for many days, for ever between them +was perfect love. They walked uprightly, and gave +alms of their goods, till such a time as it became them +to turn to God. After much thought, Eliduc built a +great church close beside his castle. He endowed it +with all his gold and silver, and with the rest of his +land. He set priests there, and holy layfolk also, for +the business of the house, and the fair services of religion.</p> + +<p>When all was builded and ordered, Eliduc offered himself, +with them, that he—weak man—might serve the +omnipotent God. He set with the Abbess Guildeluec +—who once was his dame—that wife whom he loved +so dearly well. The Abbess received her as a sister, +and welcomed her right honourably. She admonished +her in the offices of God, and taught her of the rules +and practice of their holy Order. They prayed to God +for their friend, that He would grant him mercy in His +day. In turn, he entreated God for them. Messages +came from convent and monastery as to how they fared, +so that each might encourage the other in His way. +Each strove painfully, for himself and his, to love God +the more dearly, and to abide in His holy faith. Each +made a good end, and the mercy of God was abundantly +made clear to all.</p> + +<p>Of the adventure of these three lovers, the courteous +Bretons made this Lay for remembrance, since they +deemed it a matter that men should not forget.</p> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="V"></a><h2>V.</h2> +<br> + +<p>THE LAY OF THE NIGHTINGALE</p> + +<p>Now will I tell you a story, whereof the Breton harper +already has made a Lay. Laustic, I deem, men name +it in that country, which, being interpreted, means rossignol +in French, and nightingale in good plain English.</p> + +<p>In the realm of Brittany stands a certain rich and +mighty city, called Saint Malo. There were citizens +of this township two knights, so well spoken and reputed +of all, that the city drew therefrom great profit and fame. +The houses of these lords were very near the one to the +other. One of the two knights had to wife a passing fair +lady, right gracious of manner and sweet of tongue. +Wondrous pleasure found this dame to array herself +richly, after the wont and fashion of her time. The other +knight was yet a bachelor. He was well accounted of +amongst his fellows as a hardy knight and as an honourable +man. He gave hospitality gladly. Largely he +gained, largely he spent, and willingly bestowed gifts of +all that he had.</p> + +<p>This bachelor set his love upon his neighbour's wife. +By reason of his urgent prayers, his long suit and service, +and by reason that all men spake naught of him but +praise—perchance, also, for reason that he was never far +from her eye—presently this lady came to set her heart +on him again. Though these two friends loved right +tenderly, yet were they so private and careful in their +loves that none perceived what was in their hearts. No +man pried on them, or disturbed their goings and comings. +These were the more easy to devise since the bachelor +and the lady were such near neighbours. Their two +houses stood side by side, hall and cellar and combles. +Only between the gardens was built a high and ancient +wall, of worn gray stone. When the lady sat within her +bower, by leaning from the casement she and her +friend might speak together, he to her, and she to +him. They could also throw messages in writing, and +divers pretty gifts, the one to the other. Little enough +had they to displease them, and greatly were they at their +ease, save only that they might not take their pleasure +together, so often as their hearts had wished. For the +dame was guarded very straitly when her husband +was abroad. Yet not so strictly but that they might +have word and speech, the now by night and now +by day. At least, however close the watch and ward, none +might hinder that at times these fair lovers stood within +their casements, and looked fondly on the other's face.</p> + +<p>Now after these friends had loved for a great space it +chanced that the season became warm and sweet. It +was the time when meadow and copse are green; when +orchards grow white with bloom, and birds break into +song as thickly as the bush to flower. It is the season +when he who loves would win to his desire. Truly I tell +you that the knight would have done all in his power to +attain his wish, and the lady, for her part, yearned for +sight and speech of her friend. At night, when the moon +shone clearly in the sky, and her lord lay sleeping at +her side, often the dame slipped softly from her bed, +and hastening to the casement, leaned forth to have +sight of him who watched. The greater part of the +dark they kept vigil together, for very pleasant it is to +look upon your friend, when sweeter things are denied.</p> + +<p>This chanced so often, and the lady rose so frequently +from her bed, that her lord was altogether wrathful, and +many a time inquired the reason of her unrest.</p> + +<p>"Husband," replied the dame, "there is no dearer joy +in this world, than to hear the nightingale sing. It +is to hearken to the song that rises so sweetly on the +night, that I lean forth from the casement. What tune +of harp or viol is half so fair! Because of my delight +in his song, and of my desire to hear, I may not shut +my eyes till it be morn."</p> + +<p>When the husband heard the lady's words he laughed +within himself for wrath and malice. He purposed +that very soon the nightingale should sing within +a net. So he bade the servants of his house to devise +fillets and snares, and to set their cunning traps about +the orchard. Not a chestnut tree nor hazel within +the garth but was limed and netted for the caging +of this bird. It was not long therefore ere the nightingale +was taken, and the servants made haste to give +him to the pleasure of their lord. Wondrous merry +was the knight when he held him living in his hand. +He went straightway to the chamber of his dame, and +entering, said,</p> + +<p>"Wife, are you within? Come near, for I must speak +with you. Here is the nightingale, all limed and taken, +who made vigil of your sleeping hours. Take now your +rest in peace, for he will never disturb you more."</p> + +<p>When the lady understood these words she was +marvellously sorrowful and heavy. She prayed her +lord to grant her the nightingale for a gift. But for +all answer he wrung his neck with both hands so fiercely +that the head was torn from the body. Then, right foully, +he flung the bird upon the knees of the dame, in such +fashion that her breast was sprinkled with the blood. +So he departed, incontinent, from the chamber in a rage.</p> + +<p>The lady took the little body in her hands, and wept +his evil fate. She railed on those who with nets and +snares had betrayed the nightingale to his death; for +anger and hate beyond measure had gained hold on +her heart.</p> + +<p>"Alas," cried she, "evil is come upon me. Never +again may I rise from my bed in the night, and watch +from the casement, so that I may see my friend. One +thing I know full well, that he will deem my love is no +more set upon him. Woe to her who has none to give +her counsel. This I will do. I will bestow the nightingale +upon him, and send him tidings of the chance that has +befallen."</p> + +<p>So this doleful lady took a fair piece of white samite, +broidered with gold, and wrought thereon the whole +story of this adventure. In this silken cloth she wrapped +the body of the little bird, and calling to her a trusty +servant of her house, charged him with the message, +and bade him bear it to her friend. The varlet went +his way to the knight, and having saluted him on the +part of the lady, he told over to him the story, and +bestowed the nightingale upon him. When all had been +rehearsed and shown to him, and he had well considered +the matter, the knight was very dolent; yet in no +wise would he avenge himself wrongfully. So he caused +a certain coffret to be fashioned, made not of iron or steel, +but of fine gold and fair stones, most rich and precious, +right strongly clasped and bound. In this little chest +he set the body of the nightingale, and having sealed +the shrine, carried it upon him whenever his business +took him abroad.</p> + +<p>This adventure could not long be hid. Very swiftly +it was noised about the country, and the Breton folk +made a Lay thereon, which they called the Lay of the +Laustic, in their own tongue.</p> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="VI"></a><h2>VI</h2> + +<p>THE LAY OF SIR LAUNFAL</p> + +<p>I will tell you the story of another Lay. It relates the +adventures of a rich and mighty baron, and the Breton +calls it, the Lay of Sir Launfal.</p> + +<p>King Arthur—that fearless knight and courteous +lord—removed to Wales, and lodged at Caerleon-on-Usk, +since the Picts and Scots did much mischief in the land. +For it was the wont of the wild people of the north to +enter in the realm of Logres, and burn and damage +at their will. At the time of Pentecost, the King cried +a great feast. Thereat he gave many rich gifts to his +counts and barons, and to the Knights of the Round +Table. Never were such worship and bounty shown +before at any feast, for Arthur bestowed honours and +lands on all his servants—save only on one. This lord, +who was forgotten and misliked of the King, was +named Launfal. He was beloved by many of the Court, +because of his beauty and prowess, for he was a worthy +knight, open of heart and heavy of hand. These lords, +to whom their comrade was dear, felt little joy to see so +stout a knight misprized. Sir Launfal was son to a King +of high descent, though his heritage was in a distant +land. He was of the King's household, but since Arthur +gave him naught, and he was of too proud a mind to +pray for his due, he had spent all that he had. Right +heavy was Sir Launfal, when he considered these things, +for he knew himself taken in the toils. Gentles, marvel +not overmuch hereat. Ever must the pilgrim go heavily +in a strange land, where there is none to counsel and +direct him in the path.</p> + +<p>Now, on a day, Sir Launfal got him on his horse, +that he might take his pleasure for a little. He came +forth from the city, alone, attended by neither servant +nor squire. He went his way through a green mead, +till he stood by a river of clear running water. Sir +Launfal would have crossed this stream, without thought +of pass or ford, but he might not do so, for reason that +his horse was all fearful and trembling. Seeing that he +was hindered in this fashion, Launfal unbitted his steed, +and let him pasture in that fair meadow, where they +had come. Then he folded his cloak to serve him as a +pillow, and lay upon the ground. Launfal lay in great +misease, because of his heavy thoughts, and the discomfort +of his bed. He turned from side to side, and +might not sleep. Now as the knight looked towards +the river he saw two damsels coming towards him; +fairer maidens Launfal had never seen. These two +maidens were richly dressed in kirtles closely laced and +shapen to their persons and wore mantles of a goodly +purple hue. Sweet and dainty were the damsels, alike +in raiment and in face. The elder of these ladies carried +in her hands a basin of pure gold, cunningly wrought +by some crafty smith—very fair and precious was the +cup; and the younger bore a towel of soft white linen. +These maidens turned neither to the right hand nor to +the left, but went directly to the place where Launfal +lay. When Launfal saw that their business was with +him, he stood upon his feet, like a discreet and courteous +gentleman. After they had greeted the knight, one +of the maidens delivered the message with which she +was charged.</p> + +<p>"Sir Launfal, my demoiselle, as gracious as she is +fair, prays that you will follow us, her messengers, as +she has a certain word to speak with you. We will +lead you swiftly to her pavilion, for our lady is very +near at hand. If you but lift your eyes you may see +where her tent is spread."</p> + +<p>Right glad was the knight to do the bidding of the +maidens. He gave no heed to his horse, but left him +at his provand in the meadow. All his desire was to +go with the damsels, to that pavilion of silk and divers +colours, pitched in so fair a place. Certainly neither +Semiramis in the days of her most wanton power, +nor Octavian, the Emperor of all the West, had so +gracious a covering from sun and rain. Above the tent +was set an eagle of gold, so rich and precious, that none +might count the cost. The cords and fringes thereof were +of silken thread, and the lances which bore aloft the +pavilion were of refined gold. No King on earth might +have so sweet a shelter, not though he gave in fee the +value of his realm. Within this pavilion Launfal came +upon the Maiden. Whiter she was than any altar lily, +and more sweetly flushed than the new born rose in +time of summer heat. She lay upon a bed with napery +and coverlet of richer worth than could be furnished +by a castle's spoil. Very fresh and slender showed the +lady in her vesture of spotless linen. About her person +she had drawn a mantle of ermine, edged with purple +dye from the vats of Alexandria. By reason of the heat +her raiment was unfastened for a little, and her throat +and the rondure of her bosom showed whiter and more +untouched than hawthorn in May. The knight came +before the bed, and stood gazing on so sweet a sight. +The Maiden beckoned him to draw near, and when he had +seated himself at the foot of her couch, spoke her mind.</p> + +<p>"Launfal," she said, "fair friend, it is for you that +I have come from my own far land. I bring you my +love. If you are prudent and discreet, as you are goodly +to the view, there is no emperor nor count, nor king, +whose day shall be so filled with riches and with mirth +as yours."</p> + +<p>When Launfal heard these words he rejoiced greatly, +for his heart was litten by another's torch.</p> + +<p>"Fair lady," he answered, "since it pleases you to +be so gracious, and to dower so graceless a knight with +your love, there is naught that you may bid me do—right +or wrong, evil or good—that I will not do to the +utmost of my power. I will observe your commandment, +and serve in your quarrels. For you I renounce my +father and my father's house. This only I pray, that +I may dwell with you in your lodging, and that you will +never send me from your side."</p> + +<p>When the Maiden heard the words of him whom so +fondly she desired to love, she was altogether moved, +and granted him forthwith her heart and her tenderness. +To her bounty she added another gift besides. +Never might Launfal be desirous of aught, but he would +have according to his wish. He might waste and spend +at will and pleasure, but in his purse ever there was to +spare. No more was Launfal sad. Right merry was the +pilgrim, since one had set him on the way, with such +a gift, that the more pennies he bestowed, the more +silver and gold were in his pouch.</p> + +<p>But the Maiden had yet a word to say.</p> + +<p>"Friend," she said, "hearken to my counsel. I lay this +charge upon you, and pray you urgently, that you tell +not to any man the secret of our love. If you show this +matter, you will lose your friend, for ever and a day. +Never again may you see my face. Never again will +you have seisin of that body, which is now so tender +in your eyes."</p> + +<p>Launfal plighted faith, that right strictly he would +observe this commandment. So the Maiden granted him +her kiss and her embrace, and very sweetly in that fair +lodging passed the day till evensong was come.</p> + +<p>Right loath was Launfal to depart from the pavilion +at the vesper hour, and gladly would he have stayed, +had he been able, and his lady wished.</p> + +<p>"Fair friend," said she, "rise up, for no longer +may you tarry. The hour is come that we must part. +But one thing I have to say before you go. When you +would speak with me I shall hasten to come before +your wish. Well I deem that you will only call your +friend where she may be found without reproach or +shame of men. You may see me at your pleasure; my +voice shall speak softly in your ear at will; but I must +never be known of your comrades, nor must they ever +learn my speech."</p> + +<p>Right joyous was Launfal to hear this thing. He +sealed the covenant with a kiss, and stood upon his +feet. Then there entered the two maidens who had led +him to the pavilion, bringing with them rich raiment, +fitting for a knight's apparel. When Launfal had clothed +himself therewith, there seemed no goodlier varlet under +heaven, for certainly he was fair and true. After these +maidens had refreshed him with clear water, and dried +his hands upon the napkin, Launfal went to meat. +His friend sat at table with him, and small will had he +to refuse her courtesy. Very serviceably the damsels +bore the meats, and Launfal and the Maiden ate and +drank with mirth and content. But one dish was more +to the knight's relish than any other. Sweeter than +the dainties within his mouth, was the lady's kiss upon +his lips.</p> + +<p>When supper was ended, Launfal rose from table, +for his horse stood waiting without the pavilion. The +destrier was newly saddled and bridled, and showed +proudly in his rich gay trappings. So Launfal kissed, +and bade farewell, and went his way. He rode back +towards the city at a slow pace. Often he checked his +steed, and looked behind him, for he was filled with +amazement, and all bemused concerning this adventure. +In his heart he doubted that it was but a dream. He +was altogether astonished, and knew not what to do. +He feared that pavilion and Maiden alike were from the +realm of faery.</p> + +<p>Launfal returned to his lodging, and was greeted by +servitors, clad no longer in ragged raiment. He fared +richly, lay softly, and spent largely, but never knew +how his purse was filled. There was no lord who had +need of a lodging in the town, but Launfal brought him +to his hall, for refreshment and delight. Launfal bestowed +rich gifts. Launfal redeemed the poor captive. +Launfal clothed in scarlet the minstrel. Launfal gave +honour where honour was due. Stranger and friend +alike he comforted at need. So, whether by night or by +day, Launfal lived greatly at his ease. His lady, she +came at will and pleasure, and, for the rest, all was added +unto him.</p> + +<p>Now it chanced, the same year, about the feast of St. +John, a company of knights came, for their solace, to +an orchard, beneath that tower where dwelt the Queen. +Together with these lords went Gawain and his cousin, +Yvain the fair. Then said Gawain, that goodly knight, +beloved and dear to all,</p> + +<p>"Lords, we do wrong to disport ourselves in this +pleasaunce without our comrade Launfal. It is not well +to slight a prince as brave as he is courteous, and of a +lineage prouder than our own."</p> + +<p>Then certain of the lords returned to the city, and +finding Launfal within his hostel, entreated him to +take his pastime with them in that fair meadow. The +Queen looked out from a window in her tower, she and +three ladies of her fellowship. They saw the lords at +their pleasure, and Launfal also, whom well they knew. +So the Queen chose of her Court thirty damsels—the +sweetest of face and most dainty of fashion—and commanded +that they should descend with her to take their +delight in the garden. When the knights beheld this +gay company of ladies come down the steps of the +perron, they rejoiced beyond measure. They hastened +before to lead them by the hand, and said such words +in their ear as were seemly and pleasant to be spoken. +Amongst these merry and courteous lords hasted not +Sir Launfal. He drew apart from the throng, for with +him time went heavily, till he might have clasp and +greeting of his friend. The ladies of the Queen's fellowship +seemed but kitchen wenches to his sight, in comparison +with the loveliness of the maiden. When the +Queen marked Launfal go aside, she went his way, +and seating herself upon the herb, called the knight +before her. Then she opened out her heart.</p> + +<p>"Launfal, I have honoured you for long as a worthy +knight, and have praised and cherished you very dearly. +You may receive a queen's whole love, if such be your +care. Be content: he to whom my heart is given, +has small reason to complain him of the alms."</p> + +<p>"Lady," answered the knight, "grant me leave to +go, for this grace is not for me. I am the King's man, +and dare not break my troth. Not for the highest +lady in the world, not even for her love, will I set this +reproach upon my lord."</p> + +<p>When the Queen heard this, she was full of wrath, +and spoke many hot and bitter words.</p> + +<p>"Launfal," she cried, "well I know that you think +little of woman and her love. There are sins more black +that a man may have upon his soul. Traitor you are, +and false. Right evil counsel gave they to my lord, +who prayed him to suffer you about his person. You +remain only for his harm and loss."</p> + +<p>Launfal was very dolent to hear this thing. He was +not slow to take up the Queen's glove, and in his haste +spake words that he repented long, and with tears.</p> + +<p>"Lady," said he, "I am not of that guild of which +you speak. Neither am I a despiser of woman, since +I love, and am loved, of one who would bear the prize +from all the ladies in the land. Dame, know now and +be persuaded, that she, whom I serve, is so rich in state, +that the very meanest of her maidens, excels you, +Lady Queen, as much in clerkly skill and goodness, +as in sweetness of body and face, and in every +virtue."</p> + +<p>The Queen rose straightway to her feet, and fled to +her chamber, weeping. Right wrathful and heavy was +she, because of the words that had besmirched her. +She lay sick upon her bed, from which, she said, she +would never rise, till the King had done her justice, +and righted this bitter wrong. Now the King that day +had taken his pleasure within the woods. He returned +from the chase towards evening, and sought the chamber +of the Queen. When the lady saw him, she sprang from +her bed, and kneeling at his feet, pleaded for grace and +pity. Launfal—she said—had shamed her, since he +required her love. When she had put him by, very +foully had he reviled her, boasting that his love was +already set on a lady, so proud and noble, that her +meanest wench went more richly, and smiled more +sweetly, than the Queen. Thereat the King waxed +marvellously wrathful, and swore a great oath that he +would set Launfal within a fire, or hang him from a +tree, if he could not deny this thing, before his peers.</p> + +<p>Arthur came forth from the Queen's chamber, and +called to him three of his lords. These he sent to seek +the knight who so evilly had entreated the Queen. +Launfal, for his part, had returned to his lodging, in +a sad and sorrowful case. He saw very clearly that he +had lost his friend, since he had declared their love to +men. Launfal sat within his chamber, sick and heavy +of thought. Often he called upon his friend, but the +lady would not hear his voice. He bewailed his evil +lot, with tears; for grief he came nigh to swoon; a +hundred times he implored the Maiden that she would +deign to speak with her knight. Then, since the lady +yet refrained from speech, Launfal cursed his hot and +unruly tongue. Very near he came to ending all this +trouble with his knife. Naught he found to do but to +wring his hands, and call upon the Maiden, begging her +to forgive his trespass, and to talk with him again, as +friend to friend.</p> + +<p>But little peace is there for him who is harassed by +a King. There came presently to Launfal's hostel those +three barons from the Court. These bade the knight +forthwith to go with them to Arthur's presence, to acquit +him of this wrong against the Queen. Launfal went +forth, to his own deep sorrow. Had any man slain him +on the road, he would have counted him his friend. +He stood before the King, downcast and speechless, +being dumb by reason of that great grief, of which he +showed the picture and image.</p> + +<p>Arthur looked upon his captive very evilly.</p> + +<p>"Vassal," said he, harshly, "you have done me a +bitter wrong. It was a foul deed to seek to shame me +in this ugly fashion, and to smirch the honour of the +Queen. Is it folly or lightness which leads you to boast +of that lady, the least of whose maidens is fairer, and +goes more richly, than the Queen?"</p> + +<p>Launfal protested that never had he set such shame +upon his lord. Word by word he told the tale of how +he denied the Queen, within the orchard. But concerning +that which he had spoken of the lady, he owned the +truth, and his folly. The love of which he bragged was +now lost to him, by his own exceeding fault. He cared +little for his life, and was content to obey the judgment +of the Court.</p> + +<p>Right wrathful was the King at Launfal's words. +He conjured his barons to give him such wise counsel +herein, that wrong might be done to none. The lords +did the King's bidding, whether good came of the matter, +or evil. They gathered themselves together, and appointed +a certain day that Launfal should abide the +judgment of his peers. For his part Launfal must give +pledge and surety to his lord, that he would come before +this judgment in his own body. If he might not give +such surety then he should be held captive till the +appointed day. When the lords of the King's household +returned to tell him of their counsel, Arthur demanded +that Launfal should put such pledge in his hand, +as they had said. Launfal was altogether mazed and +bewildered at this judgment, for he had neither friend +nor kindred in the land. He would have been set in +prison, but Gawain came first to offer himself as his +surety, and with him, all the knights of his fellowship. +These gave into the King's hand as pledge, the fiefs and +lands that they held of his Crown. The King having +taken pledges from the sureties, Launfal returned to +his lodging, and with him certain knights of his company. +They blamed him greatly because of his foolish +love, and chastened him grievously by reason of the +sorrow he made before men. Every day they came to +his chamber, to know of his meat and drink, for much +they feared that presently he would become mad.</p> + +<p>The lords of the household came together on the day +appointed for this judgment. The King was on his chair, +with the Queen sitting at his side. The sureties brought +Launfal within the hall, and rendered him into the hands +of his peers. Right sorrowful were they because of his +plight. A great company of his fellowship did all that +they were able to acquit him of this charge. When all +was set out, the King demanded the judgment of the +Court, according to the accusation and the answer. +The barons went forth in much trouble and thought to +consider this matter. Many amongst them grieved +for the peril of a good knight in a strange land; others +held that it were well for Launfal to suffer, because of +the wish and malice of their lord. Whilst they were thus +perplexed, the Duke of Cornwall rose in the council, +and said,</p> + +<p>"Lords, the King pursues Launfal as a traitor, and +would slay him with the sword, by reason that he +bragged of the beauty of his maiden, and roused the +jealousy of the Queen. By the faith that I owe this +company, none complains of Launfal, save only the +King. For our part we would know the truth of this +business, and do justice between the King and his man. +We would also show proper reverence to our own liege +lord. Now, if it be according to Arthur's will, let us +take oath of Launfal, that he seek this lady, who has +put such strife between him and the Queen. If her +beauty be such as he has told us, the Queen will have +no cause for wrath. She must pardon Launfal for his +rudeness, since it will be plain that he did not speak +out of a malicious heart. Should Launfal fail his word, +and not return with the lady, or should her fairness +fall beneath his boast, then let him be cast off from our +fellowship, and be sent forth from the service of the +King."</p> + +<p>This counsel seemed good to the lords of the household. +They sent certain of his friends to Launfal, to acquaint +him with their judgment, bidding him to pray his damsel +to the Court, that he might be acquitted of this blame. +The knight made answer that in no wise could he do +this thing. So the sureties returned before the judges, +saying that Launfal hoped neither for refuge nor for +succour from the lady, and Arthur urged them to a +speedy ending, because of the prompting of the Queen.</p> + +<p>The judges were about to give sentence upon Launfal, +when they saw two maidens come riding towards the +palace, upon two white ambling palfreys. Very sweet +and dainty were these maidens, and richly clothed in +garments of crimson sendal, closely girt and fashioned +to their bodies. All men, old and young, looked willingly +upon them, for fair they were to see. Gawain, and three +knights of his company, went straight to Launfal, and +showed him these maidens, praying him to say which +of them was his friend. But he answered never a +word. The maidens dismounted from their palfreys, +and coming before the dais where the King was seated, +spake him fairly, as they were fair.</p> + +<p>"Sire, prepare now a chamber, hung with silken +cloths, where it is seemly for my lady to dwell; for she +would lodge with you awhile."</p> + +<p>This gift the King granted gladly. He called to him +two knights of his household, and bade them bestow +the maidens in such chambers as were fitting to their +degree. The maidens being gone, the King required +of his barons to proceed with their judgment, saying +that he had sore displeasure at the slowness of the cause.</p> + +<p>"Sire," replied the barons, "we rose from Council, +because of the damsels who entered in the hall. We +will at once resume the sitting, and give our judgment +without more delay."</p> + +<p>The barons again were gathered together, in much +thought and trouble, to consider this matter. There +was great strife and dissension amongst them, for they +knew not what to do. In the midst of all this noise and +tumult, there came two other damsels riding to the hall +on two Spanish mules. Very richly arrayed were these +damsels in raiment of fine needlework, and their kirtles +were covered by fresh fair mantles, embroidered with +gold. Great joy had Launfal's comrades when they +marked these ladies. They said between themselves +that doubtless they came for the succour of the good +knight. Gawain, and certain of his company, made +haste to Launfal, and said, +"Sir, be not cast down. Two ladies are near at +hand, right dainty of dress, and gracious of person. +Tell us truly, for the love of God, is one of these your +friend?"</p> + +<p>But Launfal answered very simply that never before +had he seen these damsels with his eyes, nor known and +loved them in his heart.</p> + +<p>The maidens dismounted from their mules, and +stood before Arthur, in the sight of all. Greatly were +they praised of many, because of their beauty, and of +the colour of their face and hair. Some there were who +deemed already that the Queen was overborne.</p> + +<p>The elder of the damsels carried herself modestly +and well, and sweetly told over the message wherewith +she was charged.</p> + +<p>"Sire, make ready for us chambers, where we may +abide with our lady, for even now she comes to speak +with thee."</p> + +<p>The King commanded that the ladies should be led +to their companions, and bestowed in the same honourable +fashion as they. Then he bade the lords of his +household to consider their judgment, since he would +endure no further respite. The Court already had given +too much time to the business, and the Queen was +growing wrathful, because of the blame that was hers. +Now the judges were about to proclaim their sentence, +when, amidst the tumult of the town, there came riding +to the palace the flower of all the ladies of the world. +She came mounted upon a palfrey, white as snow, +which carried her softly, as though she loved her burthen. +Beneath the sky was no goodlier steed, nor one more +gentle to the hand. The harness of the palfrey was so +rich, that no king on earth might hope to buy trappings +so precious, unless he sold or set his realm in pledge. +The Maiden herself showed such as I will tell you. +Passing slim was the lady, sweet of bodice and slender +of girdle. Her throat was whiter than snow on branch, +and her eyes were like flowers in the pallor of her face. +She had a witching mouth, a dainty nose, and an open +brow. Her eyebrows were brown, and her golden hair +parted in two soft waves upon her head. She was clad +in a shift of spotless linen, and above her snowy kirtle +was set a mantle of royal purple, clasped upon her breast. +She carried a hooded falcon upon her glove, and a greyhound +followed closely after. As the Maiden rode at a +slow pace through the streets of the city, there was +none, neither great nor small, youth nor sergeant, but +ran forth from his house, that he might content his +heart with so great beauty. Every man that saw her +with his eyes, marvelled at a fairness beyond that of +any earthly woman. Little he cared for any mortal +maiden, after he had seen this sight. The friends of +Sir Launfal hastened to the knight, to tell him of his +lady's succour, if so it were according to God's will.</p> + +<p>"Sir comrade, truly is not this your friend? This +lady is neither black nor golden, mean nor tall. She is +only the most lovely thing in all the world."</p> + +<p>When Launfal heard this, he sighed, for by their +words he knew again his friend. He raised his head, +and as the blood rushed to his face, speech flowed from +his lips.</p> + +<p>"By my faith," cried he, "yes, she is indeed my +friend. It is a small matter now whether men slay me, +or set me free; for I am made whole of my hurt just +by looking on her face."</p> + +<p>The Maiden entered in the palace—where none so +fair had come before—and stood before the King, in +the presence of his household. She loosed the clasp +of her mantle, so that men might the more easily perceive +the grace of her person. The courteous King +advanced to meet her, and all the Court got them on +their feet, and pained themselves in her service. When +the lords had gazed upon her for a space, and praised +the sum of her beauty, the lady spake to Arthur in this +fashion, for she was anxious to begone.</p> + +<p>"Sire, I have loved one of thy vassals,—the knight +who stands in bonds, Sir Launfal. He was always +misprized in thy Court, and his every action turned to +blame. What he said, that thou knowest; for over +hasty was his tongue before the Queen. But he never +craved her in love, however loud his boasting. I cannot +choose that he should come to hurt or harm by me. +In the hope of freeing Launfal from his bonds, I have +obeyed thy summons. Let now thy barons look boldly +upon my face, and deal justly in this quarrel between +the Queen and me."</p> + +<p>The King commanded that this should be done, and +looking upon her eyes, not one of the judges but was +persuaded that her favour exceeded that of the Queen.</p> + +<p>Since then Launfal had not spoken in malice against +his lady, the lords of the household gave him again his +sword. When the trial had come thus to an end the +Maiden took her leave of the King, and made her ready +to depart. Gladly would Arthur have had her lodge +with him for a little, and many a lord would have rejoiced +in her service, but she might not tarry. Now without +the hall stood a great stone of dull marble, where it +was the wont of lords, departing from the Court, to +climb into the saddle, and Launfal by the stone. The +Maiden came forth from the doors of the palace, and +mounting on the stone, seated herself on the palfrey, +behind her friend. Then they rode across the plain +together, and were no more seen.</p> + +<p>The Bretons tell that the knight was ravished by +his lady to an island, very dim and very fair, known +as Avalon. But none has had speech with Launfal and +his faery love since then, and for my part I can tell +you no more of the matter.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="VII"></a><h2>VII</h2> + +<p>THE LAY OF THE TWO LOVERS</p> +<br> + +<p>Once upon a time there lived in Normandy two lovers, +who were passing fond, and were brought by Love to +Death. The story of their love was bruited so abroad, +that the Bretons made a song in their own tongue, +and named this song the Lay of the Two Lovers.</p> + +<p>In Neustria—that men call Normandy—there is +verily a high and marvellously great mountain, where +lie the relics of the Two Children. Near this high place +the King of those parts caused to be built a certain fair +and cunning city, and since he was lord of the Pistrians, +it was known as Pistres. The town yet endures, with +its towers and houses, to bear witness to the truth; +moreover the country thereabouts is known to us all +as the Valley of Pistres.</p> + +<p>This King had one fair daughter, a damsel sweet of +face and gracious of manner, very near to her father's +heart, since he had lost his Queen. The maiden increased +in years and favour, but he took no heed to her trothing, +so that men—yea, even his own people—blamed him +greatly for this thing. When the King heard thereof +he was passing heavy and dolent, and considered within +himself how he might be delivered from this grief. So +then, that none should carry off his child, he caused +it to be proclaimed, both far and near, by script and trumpet, +that he alone should wed the maid, who would bear +her in his arms, to the pinnacle of the great and perilous +mountain, and that without rest or stay. When this +news was noised about the country, many came upon +the quest. But strive as they would they might not +enforce themselves more than they were able. However +mighty they were of body, at the last they failed upon +the mountain, and fell with their burthen to the ground. +Thus, for a while, was none so bold as to seek the high +Princess.</p> + +<p>Now in this country lived a squire, son to a certain +count of that realm, seemly of semblance and courteous, +and right desirous to win that prize, which was so +coveted of all. He was a welcome guest at the Court, +and the King talked with him very willingly. This +squire had set his heart upon the daughter of the King, +and many a time spoke in her ear, praying her to give +him again the love he had bestowed upon her. So +seeing him brave and courteous, she esteemed him for +the gifts which gained him the favour of the King, +and they loved together in their youth. But they +hid this matter from all about the Court. This thing +was very grievous to them, but the damoiseau thought +within himself that it were good to bear the pains he +knew, rather than to seek out others that might prove +sharper still. Yet in the end, altogether distraught by +love, this prudent varlet sought his friend, and showed +her his case, saying that he urgently required of her +that she would flee with him, for no longer could he +endure the weariness of his days. Should he ask her +of the King, well he knew that by reason of his love he +would refuse the gift, save he bore her in his arms up +the steep mount. Then the maiden made answer to +her lover, and said,</p> + +<p>"Fair friend, well I know you may not carry me to +that high place. Moreover should we take to flight, +my father would suffer wrath and sorrow beyond +measure, and go heavily all his days. Certainly my love +is too fond to plague him thus, and we must seek another +counsel, for this is not to my heart. Hearken well. +I have kindred in Salerno, of rich estate. For more +than thirty years my aunt has studied there the art +of medicine, and knows the secret gift of every root +and herb. If you hasten to her, bearing letters from +me, and show her your adventure, certainly she will +find counsel and cure. Doubt not that she will discover +some cunning simple, that will strengthen your body, +as well as comfort your heart. Then return to this +realm with your potion, and ask me at my father's +hand. He will deem you but a stripling, and set forth +the terms of his bargain, that to him alone shall I be +given who knows how to climb the perilous mountain, +without pause or rest, bearing his lady between his +arms."</p> + +<p>When the varlet heard this cunning counsel of the +maiden, he rejoiced greatly, and thanking her sweetly +for her rede, craved permission to depart. He returned +to his own home, and gathering together a goodly store +of silken cloths most precious, he bestowed his gear +upon the pack horses, and made him ready for the road. +So with a little company of men, mounted on swift +palfreys, and most privy to his mind, he arrived at +Salerno. Now the squire made no long stay at his +lodging, but as soon as he might, went to the damsel's +kindred to open out his mind. He delivered to the +aunt the letters he carried from his friend, and bewailed +their evil case. When the dame had read these letters +with him, line by line, she charged him to lodge with +her awhile, till she might do according to his wish. +So by her sorceries, and for the love of her maid, she +brewed such a potion that no man, however wearied +and outworn, but by drinking this philtre, would not +be refreshed in heart and blood and bones. Such virtue +had this medicine, directly it were drunken. This simple +she poured within a little flacket, and gave it to the +varlet, who received the gift with great joy and delight, +and returned swiftly to his own land.</p> + +<p>The varlet made no long sojourn in his home. He +repaired straightway to the Court, and, seeking out the +King, required of him his fair daughter in marriage, +promising, for his part, that were she given him, he +would bear her in his arms to the summit of the mount. +The King was no wise wrath at his presumption. He +smiled rather at his folly, for how should one so young +and slender succeed in a business wherein so many +mighty men had failed. Therefore he appointed a +certain day for this judgment. Moreover he caused letters +to be written to his vassals and his friends—passing +none by—bidding them to see the end of this adventure. +Yea, with public cry and sound of trumpet he bade all +who would, come to behold the stripling carry his fair +daughter to the pinnacle of the mountain. And from +every region round about men came to learn the issue +of this thing. But for her part the fair maiden did all +that she was able to bring her love to a good end. Ever +was it fast day and fleshless day with her, so that by +any means she might lighten the burthen that her +friend must carry in his arms.</p> + +<p>Now on the appointed day this young dansellon came +very early to the appointed place, bringing the flacket +with him. When the great company were fully met +together, the King led forth his daughter before them; +and all might see that she was arrayed in nothing but +her smock. The varlet took the maiden in his arms, +but first he gave her the flask with the precious brewage +to carry, since for pride he might not endure to drink +therefrom, save at utmost peril. The squire set forth +at a great pace, and climbed briskly till he was halfway +up the mount. Because of the joy he had in +clasping his burthen, he gave no thought to the +potion. But she—she knew the strength was failing in +his heart.</p> + +<p>"Fair friend," said she, "well I know that you tire: +drink now, I pray you, of the flacket, and so shall your +manhood come again at need."</p> + +<p>But the varlet answered,</p> + +<p>"Fair love, my heart is full of courage; nor for any +reason will I pause, so long as I can hold upon my way. +It is the noise of all this folk—the tumult and the +shouting—that makes my steps uncertain. Their cries +distress me, I do not dare to stand."</p> + +<p>But when two thirds of the course was won, the grasshopper +would have tripped him off his feet. Urgently +and often the maiden prayed him, saying,</p> + +<p>"Fair friend, drink now of thy cordial."</p> + +<p>But he would neither hear, nor give credence to her +words. A mighty anguish filled his bosom. He climbed +upon the summit of the mountain, and pained himself +grievously to bring his journey to an end. This he might +not do. He reeled and fell, nor could he rise again, for +the heart had burst within his breast.</p> + +<p>When the maiden saw her lover's piteous plight, she +deemed that he had swooned by reason of his pain. +She kneeled hastily at his side, and put the enchanted +brewage to his lips, but he could neither drink nor speak, +for he was dead, as I have told you. She bewailed his +evil lot, with many shrill cries, and flung the useless +flacket far away. The precious potion bestrewed the +ground, making a garden of that desolate place. For +many saving herbs have been found there since that day +by the simple folk of that country, which from the +magic philtre derived all their virtue.</p> + +<p>But when the maiden knew that her lover was dead, +she made such wondrous sorrow, as no man had ever +seen. She kissed his eyes and mouth, and falling upon +his body, took him in her arms, and pressed him closely +to her breast. There was no heart so hard as not to +be touched by her sorrow; for in this fashion died a +dame, who was fair and sweet and gracious, beyond +the wont of the daughters of men.</p> + +<p>Now the King and his company, since these two +lovers came not again, presently climbed the mountain +to learn their end. But when the King came upon +them lifeless, and fast in that embrace, incontinent he +fell to the ground, bereft of sense. After his speech +had returned to him, he was passing heavy, and lamented +their doleful case, and thus did all his people with him.</p> + +<p>Three days they kept the bodies of these two fair +children from earth, with uncovered face. On the +third day they sealed them fast in a goodly coffin of +marble, and by the counsel of all men, laid them softly +to rest on that mountain where they died. Then they +departed from them, and left them together, alone.</p> + +<p>Since this adventure of the Two Children this hill +is known as the Mountain of the Two Lovers, and their +story being bruited abroad, the Breton folk have made +a Lay thereof, even as I have rehearsed before you.</p> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="VIII"></a><h2>VIII</h2> + +<p>THE LAY OF THE WERE-WOLF</p> +<br> + +<p>Amongst the tales I tell you once again, I would not +forget the Lay of the Were-Wolf. Such beasts as he are +known in every land. Bisclavaret he is named in +Brittany; whilst the Norman calls him Garwal.</p> + +<p>It is a certain thing, and within the knowledge of +all, that many a christened man has suffered this change, +and ran wild in woods, as a Were-Wolf. The Were-Wolf +is a fearsome beast. He lurks within the thick +forest, mad and horrible to see. All the evil that he +may, he does. He goeth to and fro, about the solitary +place, seeking man, in order to devour him. Hearken, +now, to the adventure of the Were-Wolf, that I have +to tell.</p> + +<p>In Brittany there dwelt a baron who was marvellously +esteemed of all his fellows. He was a stout knight, and +a comely, and a man of office and repute. Right +private was he to the mind of his lord, and dear to the +counsel of his neighbours. This baron was wedded +to a very worthy dame, right fair to see, and sweet of +semblance. All his love was set on her, and all her love +was given again to him. One only grief had this lady. +For three whole days in every week her lord was absent +from her side. She knew not where he went, nor on +what errand. Neither did any of his house know the +business which called him forth.</p> + +<p>On a day when this lord was come again to his house, +altogether joyous and content, the lady took him to +task, right sweetly, in this fashion, +"Husband," said she, "and fair, sweet friend, I have +a certain thing to pray of you. Right willingly would I +receive this gift, but I fear to anger you in the asking. +It is better for me to have an empty hand, than to gain +hard words."</p> + +<p>When the lord heard this matter, he took the lady +in his arms, very tenderly, and kissed her.</p> + +<p>"Wife," he answered, "ask what you will. What +would you have, for it is yours already?"</p> + +<p>"By my faith," said the lady, "soon shall I be +whole. Husband, right long and wearisome are the +days that you spend away from your home. I rise +from my bed in the morning, sick at heart, I know +not why. So fearful am I, lest you do aught to +your loss, that I may not find any comfort. Very +quickly shall I die for reason of my dread. Tell me +now, where you go, and on what business! How may +the knowledge of one who loves so closely, bring you +to harm?"</p> + +<p>"Wife," made answer the lord, "nothing but evil +can come if I tell you this secret. For the mercy of +God do not require it of me. If you but knew, you +would withdraw yourself from my love, and I should be +lost indeed."</p> + +<p>When the lady heard this, she was persuaded that +her baron sought to put her by with jesting words. +Therefore she prayed and required him the more urgently, +with tender looks and speech, till he was overborne, and +told her all the story, hiding naught.</p> + +<p>"Wife, I become Bisclavaret. I enter in the forest, +and live on prey and roots, within the thickest of the +wood."</p> + +<p>After she had learned his secret, she prayed and +entreated the more as to whether he ran in his raiment, +or went spoiled of vesture.</p> + +<p>"Wife," said he, "I go naked as a beast."</p> + +<p>"Tell me, for hope of grace, what you do with your +clothing?"</p> + +<p>"Fair wife, that will I never. If I should lose my +raiment, or even be marked as I quit my vesture, +then a Were-Wolf I must go for all the days of my life. +Never again should I become man, save in that hour +my clothing were given back to me. For this reason +never will I show my lair."</p> + +<p>"Husband," replied the lady to him, "I love you +better than all the world. The less cause have you for +doubting my faith, or hiding any tittle from me. What +savour is here of friendship? How have I made forfeit +of your love; for what sin do you mistrust my honour? +Open now your heart, and tell what is good to be +known."</p> + +<p>So at the end, outwearied and overborne by her +importunity, he could no longer refrain, but told her all.</p> + +<p>"Wife," said he, "within this wood, a little from +the path, there is a hidden way, and at the end thereof +an ancient chapel, where oftentimes I have bewailed my +lot. Near by is a great hollow stone, concealed by a +bush, and there is the secret place where I hide my +raiment, till I would return to my own home."</p> + +<p>On hearing this marvel the lady became sanguine of +visage, because of her exceeding fear. She dared no +longer to lie at his side, and turned over in her mind, +this way and that, how best she could get her from him. +Now there was a certain knight of those parts, who, for +a great while, had sought and required this lady for +her love. This knight had spent long years in her service, +but little enough had he got thereby, not even fair +words, or a promise. To him the dame wrote a letter, +and meeting, made her purpose plain.</p> + +<p>"Fair friend," said she, "be happy. That which +you have coveted so long a time, I will grant without +delay. Never again will I deny your suit. My heart, +and all I have to give, are yours, so take me now as +love and dame."</p> + +<p>Right sweetly the knight thanked her for her grace, +and pledged her faith and fealty. When she had confirmed +him by an oath, then she told him all this business +of her lord—why he went, and what he became, and +of his ravening within the wood. So she showed him +of the chapel, and of the hollow stone, and of how to +spoil the Were-Wolf of his vesture. Thus, by the kiss +of his wife, was Bisclavaret betrayed. Often enough +had he ravished his prey in desolate places, but from +this journey he never returned. His kinsfolk and +acquaintance came together to ask of his tidings, when +this absence was noised abroad. Many a man, on many +a day, searched the woodland, but none might find him, +nor learn where Bisclavaret was gone.</p> + +<p>The lady was wedded to the knight who had cherished +her for so long a space. More than a year had passed +since Bisclavaret disappeared. Then it chanced that +the King would hunt in that self-same wood where the +Were-Wolf lurked. When the hounds were unleashed +they ran this way and that, and swiftly came upon his +scent. At the view the huntsman winded on his horn, +and the whole pack were at his heels. They followed +him from morn to eve, till he was torn and bleeding, +and was all adread lest they should pull him down. +Now the King was very close to the quarry, and when +Bisclavaret looked upon his master, he ran to him for pity +and for grace. He took the stirrup within his paws, +and fawned upon the prince's foot. The King was very +fearful at this sight, but presently he called his courtiers +to his aid.</p> + +<p>"Lords," cried he, "hasten hither, and see this marvellous +thing. Here is a beast who has the sense of +man. He abases himself before his foe, and cries for +mercy, although he cannot speak. Beat off the hounds, +and let no man do him harm. We will hunt no more +to-day, but return to our own place, with the wonderful +quarry we have taken."</p> + +<p>The King turned him about, and rode to his hall, +Bisclavaret following at his side. Very near to his +master the Were-Wolf went, like any dog, and had no +care to seek again the wood. When the King had brought +him safely to his own castle, he rejoiced greatly, for +the beast was fair and strong, no mightier had any man +seen. Much pride had the King in his marvellous beast. +He held him so dear, that he bade all those who wished +for his love, to cross the Wolf in naught, neither to +strike him with a rod, but ever to see that he was richly +fed and kennelled warm. This commandment the Court +observed willingly. So all the day the Wolf sported +with the lords, and at night he lay within the chamber +of the King. There was not a man who did not make +much of the beast, so frank was he and debonair. None +had reason to do him wrong, for ever was he about his +master, and for his part did evil to none. Every day +were these two companions together, and all perceived +that the King loved him as his friend.</p> + +<p>Hearken now to that which chanced.</p> + +<p>The King held a high Court, and bade his great vassals +and barons, and all the lords of his venery to the feast. +Never was there a goodlier feast, nor one set forth with +sweeter show and pomp. Amongst those who were +bidden, came that same knight who had the wife of +Bisclavaret for dame. He came to the castle, richly +gowned, with a fair company, but little he deemed +whom he would find so near. Bisclavaret marked his +foe the moment he stood within the hall. He ran +towards him, and seized him with his fangs, in the +King's very presence, and to the view of all. Doubtless +he would have done him much mischief, had not the +King called and chidden him, and threatened him with a +rod. Once, and twice, again, the Wolf set upon the +knight in the very light of day. All men marvelled at +his malice, for sweet and serviceable was the beast, +and to that hour had shown hatred of none. With one +consent the household deemed that this deed was done +with full reason, and that the Wolf had suffered at the +knight's hand some bitter wrong. Right wary of his +foe was the knight until the feast had ended, and all +the barons had taken farewell of their lord, and departed, +each to his own house. With these, amongst the very +first, went that lord whom Bisclavaret so fiercely had +assailed. Small was the wonder that he was glad to go.</p> + +<p>No long while after this adventure it came to pass +that the courteous King would hunt in that forest where +Bisclavaret was found. With the prince came his wolf, +and a fair company. Now at nightfall the King abode +within a certain lodge of that country, and this was +known of that dame who before was the wife of Bisclavaret. +In the morning the lady clothed her in her +most dainty apparel, and hastened to the lodge, since +she desired to speak with the King, and to offer him +a rich present. When the lady entered in the chamber, +neither man nor leash might restrain the fury of the Wolf. +He became as a mad dog in his hatred and malice. +Breaking from his bonds he sprang at the lady's face, +and bit the nose from her visage. From every side +men ran to the succour of the dame. They beat off +the wolf from his prey, and for a little would have cut +him in pieces with their swords. But a certain wise +counsellor said to the King,</p> + +<p>"Sire, hearken now to me. This beast is always +with you, and there is not one of us all who has not +known him for long. He goes in and out amongst us, +nor has molested any man, neither done wrong or felony +to any, save only to this dame, one only time as we have +seen. He has done evil to this lady, and to that knight, +who is now the husband of the dame. Sire, she was +once the wife of that lord who was so close and private +to your heart, but who went, and none might find where +he had gone. Now, therefore, put the dame in a sure +place, and question her straitly, so that she may tell—if +perchance she knows thereof—for what reason this +Beast holds her in such mortal hate. For many a strange +deed has chanced, as well we know, in this marvellous +land of Brittany."</p> + +<p>The King listened to these words, and deemed the +counsel good. He laid hands upon the knight, and put +the dame in surety in another place. He caused them +to be questioned right straitly, so that their torment +was very grievous. At the end, partly because of her +distress, and partly by reason of her exceeding fear, +the lady's lips were loosed, and she told her tale. She +showed them of the betrayal of her lord, and how his +raiment was stolen from the hollow stone. Since then +she knew not where he went, nor what had befallen +him, for he had never come again to his own land. +Only, in her heart, well she deemed and was persuaded, +that Bisclavaret was he.</p> + +<p>Straightway the King demanded the vesture of his +baron, whether this were to the wish of the lady, or +whether it were against her wish. When the raiment +was brought him, he caused it to be spread before +Bisclavaret, but the Wolf made as though he had not +seen. Then that cunning and crafty counsellor took +the King apart, that he might give him a fresh rede.</p> + +<p>"Sire," said he, "you do not wisely, nor well, to +set this raiment before Bisclavaret, in the sight of all. +In shame and much tribulation must he lay aside the +beast, and again become man. Carry your wolf within +your most secret chamber, and put his vestment therein. +Then close the door upon him, and leave him alone for +a space. So we shall see presently whether the ravening +beast may indeed return to human shape."</p> + +<p>The King carried the Wolf to his chamber, and shut +the doors upon him fast. He delayed for a brief while, +and taking two lords of his fellowship with him, came +again to the room. Entering therein, all three, softly +together, they found the knight sleeping in the King's +bed, like a little child. The King ran swiftly to the bed +and taking his friend in his arms, embraced and kissed +him fondly, above a hundred times. When man's speech +returned once more, he told him of his adventure. +Then the King restored to his friend the fief that was +stolen from him, and gave such rich gifts, moreover, as +I cannot tell. As for the wife who had betrayed +Bisclavaret, he bade her avoid his country, and chased +her from the realm. So she went forth, she and her second +lord together, to seek a more abiding city, and were no +more seen.</p> + +<p>The adventure that you have heard is no vain fable. +Verily and indeed it chanced as I have said. The Lay +of the Were-Wolf, truly, was written that it should ever +be borne in mind.</p> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="IX"></a><h2>IX</h2> + +<p>THE LAY OF THE ASH TREE</p> +<br> + +<p>Now will I tell you the Lay of the Ash Tree, according +to the story that I know.</p> + +<p>In ancient days there dwelt two knights in Brittany, +who were neighbours and close friends. These two +lords were brave and worthy gentlemen, rich in goods +and lands, and near both in heart and home. Moreover +each was wedded to a dame. One of these ladies was +with child, and when her time was come, she was +delivered of two boys. Her husband was right happy +and content. For the joy that was his, he sent messages +to his neighbour, telling that his wife had brought forth +two sons, and praying that one of them might be +christened with his name. The rich man was at meat +when the messenger came before him. The servitor +kneeled before the dais, and told his message in his ear. +The lord thanked God for the happiness that had befallen +his friend, and bestowed a fair horse on the bringer of +good tidings. His wife, sitting at board with her husband, +heard the story of the messenger, and smiled +at his news. Proud she was, and sly, with an envious +heart, and a rancorous tongue. She made no effort +to bridle her lips, but spoke lightly before the servants +of the house, and said,</p> + +<p>"I marvel greatly that so reputable a man as our +neighbour, should publish his dishonour to my lord. +It is a shameful thing for any wife to have two children +at a birth. We all know that no woman brings forth +two at one bearing, except two husbands have aided her +therein."</p> + +<p>Her husband looked upon her in silence for awhile, +and when he spoke it was to blame her very sternly.</p> + +<p>"Wife," he said, "be silent. It is better to be dumb, +than to utter such words as these. As you know well, +there is not a breath to tarnish this lady's good name."</p> + +<p>The folk of the house, who listened to these words, +stored them in their hearts, and told abroad the tale, +spoken by their lady. Very soon it was known throughout +Brittany. Greatly was the lady blamed for her evil +tongue, and not a woman who heard thereof—whether +she were rich or poor—but who scorned her for her malice. +The servant who carried the message, on his return +repeated to his lord of what he had seen and heard. +Passing heavy was the knight, and knew not what to +do. He doubted his own true wife, and suspected her +the more sorely, because she had done naught that was +in any way amiss.</p> + +<p>The lady, who so foully slandered her fellow, fell +with child in the same year. Her neighbour was avenged +upon her, for when her term was come, she became the +mother of two daughters. Sick at heart was she. She +was right sorrowful, and lamented her evil case.</p> + +<p>"Alas," she said, "what shall I do, for I am dishonoured +for all my days. Shamed I am, it is the simple +truth. When my lord and his kinsfolk shall hear of +what has chanced, they will never believe me a stainless +wife. They will remember how I judged all women in +my plight. They will recall how I said before my house, +that my neighbour could not have been doubly a mother, +unless she had first been doubly a wife. I have the best +reason now to know that I was wrong, and I am caught +in my own snare. She who digs a pit for another, +cannot tell that she may not fall into the hole herself. +If you wish to speak loudly concerning your neighbour, +it is best to say nothing of him but in praise. The only +way to keep me from shame, is that one of my children +should die. It is a great sin; but I would rather trust +to the mercy of God, than suffer scorn and reproach for +the rest of my life."</p> + +<p>The women about her comforted her as best they +might in this trouble. They told her frankly that they +would not suffer such wrong to be done, since the slaying +of a child was not reckoned a jest. The lady had a +maiden near her person, whom she had long held and +nourished. The damsel was a freeman's daughter, and +was greatly loved and cherished of her mistress. When +she saw the lady's tears, and heard the bitterness of +her complaint, anguish went to her heart, like a knife. +She stooped over her lady, striving to bring her comfort.</p> + +<p>"Lady," she said, "take it not so to heart. Give +over this grief, for all will yet be well. You shall deliver +me one of these children, and I will put her so far from +you, that you shall never see her again, nor know shame +because of her. I will carry her safe and sound to the +door of a church. There I will lay her down. Some +honest man shall find her, and—please God—will be +at the cost of her nourishing."</p> + +<p>Great joy had the lady to hear these words. She +promised the maiden that in recompense of her service, +she would grant her such guerdon as she should wish. +The maiden took the babe—yet smiling in her sleep—and +wrapped her in a linen cloth. Above this she set +a piece of sanguine silk, brought by the husband of +this dame from a bazaar in Constantinople—fairer was +never seen. With a silken lace they bound a great ring +to the child's arm. This ring was of fine gold, weighing +fully an ounce, and was set with garnets most precious.</p> + +<p>Letters were graven thereon, so that those who found the +maid might understand that she came of a good house. +The damsel took the child, and went out from the +chamber. When night was come, and all was still, she +left the town, and sought the high road leading through +the forest. She held on her way, clasping the baby +to her breast, till from afar, to her right hand, she +heard the howling of dogs and the crowing of cocks. +She deemed that she was near a town, and went the +lighter for the hope, directing her steps, there, whence +the noises came. Presently the damsel entered in a fair +city, where was an Abbey, both great and rich. This +Abbey was worshipfully ordered, with many nuns in +their office and degree, and an Abbess in charge of all. +The maiden gazed upon the mighty house, and considered +its towers and walls, and the church with its +belfry. She went swiftly to the door, and setting the +child upon the ground, kneeled humbly to make her +prayer.</p> + +<p>"Lord," said she, "for the sake of Thy Holy Name, +if such be Thy will, preserve this child from death."</p> + +<p>Her petition ended, the maiden looked about her, +and saw an ash tree, planted to give shadow in a sunny +place. It was a fair tree, thick and leafy, and was +divided into four strong branches. The maiden took +the child again in her arms, and running to the ash, +set her within the tree. There she left her, commending +her to the care of God. So she returned to her mistress, +and told her all that she had done.</p> + +<p>Now in this Abbey was a porter, whose duty it was +to open the doors of the church, before folk came to +hear the service of God. This night he rose at his +accustomed hour, lighted candles and lamps, rang the +bells, and set wide the doors. His eyes fell upon the +silken stuff within the ash. He thought at first that some +bold thief had hidden his spoil within the tree. He felt +with his hand to discover what it might be, and found +that it was a little child. The porter praised God for +His goodness; he took the babe, and going again to his +house, called to his daughter, who was a widow, with an +infant yet in the cradle.</p> + +<p>"Daughter," he cried, "get from bed at once; light +your candle, and kindle the fire. I bring you a little +child, whom I have found within our ash. Take her +to your breast; cherish her against the cold, and bathe +her in warm water."</p> + +<p>The widow did according to her father's will. She +kindled a fire, and taking the babe, washed and cherished +her in her need. Very certain she was, when she saw +that rich stuff of crimson samite, and the golden ring +about the arm, that the girl was come of an honourable +race. The next day, when the office was ended, the +porter prayed the Abbess that he might have speech +with her as she left the church. He related his story, +and told of the finding of the child. The Abbess bade +him to fetch the child, dressed in such fashion as she +was discovered in the ash. The porter returned to his. +house, and showed the babe right gladly to his dame. +The Abbess observed the infant closely, and said that +she would be at the cost of her nourishing, and would +cherish her as a sister's child. She commanded the +porter strictly to forget that he took her from the ash. +In this manner it chanced that the maiden was tended +of the Abbess. The lady considered the maid as her +niece, and since she was taken from the ash, gave her +the name of Frêne. By this name she was known of all, +within the Abbey precincts, where she was nourished.</p> + +<p>When Frêne came to that age in which a girl turns to +woman, there was no fairer maiden in Brittany, nor +so sweet a damsel. Frank, she was, and open, but +discreet in semblance and in speech. To see her was to +love her, and to prize her smile above the beauty of +the world. Now at Dol there lived a lord of whom much +good was spoken. I will tell you his name. The folk +of his country called him Buron. This lord heard speak +of the maiden, and began to love her, for the sweetness +men told of her. As he rode home from some tournament, +he passed near the convent, and prayed the Abbess +that he might look upon her niece. The Abbess gave +him his desire. Greatly was the maiden to his mind. +Very fair he found her, sweetly schooled and fashioned, +modest and courteous to all. If he might not win her +to his love, he counted himself the more forlorn. This +lord was at his wits end, for he knew not what to do. +If he repaired often to the convent, the Abbess would +consider of the cause of his comings, and he would never +again see the maiden with his eyes. One thing only +gave him a little hope. Should he endow the Abbey +of his wealth, he would make it his debtor for ever. +In return he might ask a little room, where he might +abide to have their fellowship, and, at times, withdraw +him from the world. This he did. He gave richly of +his goods to the Abbey. Often, in return, he went to +the convent, but for other reasons than for penitence +and peace. He besought the maiden, and with prayers +and promises, persuaded her to set upon him her love. +When this lord was assured that she loved him, on a +certain day he reasoned with her in this manner.</p> + +<p>"Fair friend," said he, "since you have given me +your love, come with me, where I can cherish you +before all the world. You know, as well as I, that if +your aunt should perceive our friendship, she would +be passing wrath, and grieve beyond measure. If my +counsel seems good, let us flee together, you with me, +and I with you. Certes, you shall never have cause to +regret your trust, and of my riches you shall have the +half."</p> + +<p>When she who loved so fondly heard these words, +she granted of her tenderness what it pleased him to +have, and followed after where he would. Frêne fled +to her lover's castle, carrying with her that silken cloth +and ring, which might do her service on a day. These +the Abbess had given her again, telling her how one +morning at prime she was found upon an ash, this +ring and samite her only wealth, since she was not her +niece. Right carefully had Frêne guarded her treasure +from that hour. She shut them closely in a little chest, +and this coffret she bore with her in her flight, for she +would neither lose them nor forget.</p> + +<p>The lord, with whom the maiden fled, loved and +cherished her very dearly. Of all the men and servants +of his house, there was not one—either great or small—but +who loved and honoured her for her simplicity. +They lived long together in love and content, till the +fair days passed, and trouble came upon this lord. The +knights of his realm drew together, and many a time +urged that he should put away his friend, and wed with +some rich gentlewoman. They would be joyous if a +son were born, to come after to his fief and heritage. +The peril was too great to suffer that he remained a +bachelor, and without an heir. Never more would +they hold him as lord, or serve him with a good heart, +if he would not do according to their will.</p> + +<p>There being naught else to do, the lord deferred to +this counsel of his knights, and begged them to name +the lady whom he needs must wed.</p> + +<p>"Sir," answered they, "there is a lord of these parts, +privy to our counsel, who has but one child, a maid, +his only heir. Broad lands will he give as her dowry. +This damsel's name is Coudre, and in all this country +there is none so fair. Be advised: throw away the +ash rod you carry, and take the hazel as your staff.<a name="FNanchor1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1"><sup>[1]</sup></a> +The ash is a barren stock; but the hazel is thick with +nuts and delight. We shall be content if you take this +maiden as your wife, so it be to the will of God, and +she be given you of her kinsfolk."</p> + +<p>Buron demanded the hand of the lady in marriage, +and her father and kin betrothed her to the lord. Alas! +it was hid from all, that these two were twin sisters. +It was Frêne's lot to be doubly abandoned, and to see +her lover become her sister's husband. When she +learned that her friend purposed taking to himself a +wife, she made no outcry against his falseness. She +continued to serve her lord faithfully, and was diligent +in the business of his house. The sergeant and the varlet +were marvellously wrathful, when they knew that she +must go from amongst them. On the day appointed for +the marriage, Buron bade his friends and acquaintance +to the feast. Together with these came the Archbishop, +and those of Dol who held of him their lands. His +betrothed was brought to his home by her mother. +Great dread had the mother because of Frêne, for she +knew of the love that the lord bore the maiden, and +feared lest her daughter should be a stranger in her own +hall. She spoke to her son-in-law, counselling him to +send Frêne from his house, and to find her an honest +man for her husband. Thus there would be quittance +between them. Very splendid was the feast. Whilst +all was mirth and jollity, the damsel visited the chambers, +to see that each was ordered to her lord's pleasure. +She hid the torment in her heart, and seemed neither +troubled nor downcast. She compassed the bride with +every fair observance, and waited upon her right daintily.</p> + +<a name="Footnote_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor1">[1]</a><div class=note> This is a play on words; Frêne in the French, +meaning ash, and Coudre meaning hazel.</div> + +<p>Her courage was marvellous to that company of lords +and ladies, who observed her curiously. The mother +of the bride regarded her also, and praised her privily. +She said aloud that had she known the sweetness of +this lady, she would not have taken her lover from her, +nor spoiled her life for the sake of the bride. The night +being come the damsel entered in the bridal chamber +to deck the bed against her lord. She put off her mantle, +and calling the chamberlains, showed them how their +master loved to lie. His bed being softly arrayed, a +coverlet was spread upon the linen sheets. Frêne looked +upon the coverlet: in her eyes it showed too mean a +garnishing for so fair a lord. She turned it over in +her mind, and going to her coffret she took therefrom +that rich stuff of sanguine silk, and set it on the couch. +This she did not only in honour of her friend, but +that the Archbishop might not despise the house, +when he blessed the marriage bed, according to the rite. +When all was ready the mother carried the bride to +that chamber where she should lie, to disarray her +for the night. Looking upon the bed she marked the +silken coverlet, for she had never seen so rich a cloth, +save only that in which she wrapped her child. When +she remembered of this thing, her heart turned to water. +She summoned a chamberlain.</p> + +<p>"Tell me," she said, "tell me in good faith where +this garniture was found."</p> + +<p>"Lady," he made reply, "that you shall know. Our +damsel spread it on the bed, because this dossal is +richer than the coverlet that was there before."</p> + +<p>The lady called for the damsel. Frêne came before +her in haste, being yet without her mantle. All the +mother moved within her, as she plied her with questions.</p> + +<p>"Fair friend, hide it not a whit from me. Tell me +truly where this fair samite was found; whence came +it; who gave it to you? Answer swiftly, and tell me +who bestowed on you this cloth?"</p> + +<p>The damsel made answer to her:</p> + +<p>"Lady, my aunt, the Abbess, gave me this silken stuff, +and charged me to keep it carefully. At the same time +she gave me a ring, which those who put me forth, +had bound upon me."</p> + +<p>"Fair friend, may I see this ring?"</p> + +<p>"Certes, lady, I shall be pleased to show it."</p> + +<p>The lady looked closely on the ring, when it was +brought. She knew again her own, and the crimson +samite flung upon the bed. No doubt was in her mind. +She knew and was persuaded that Frêne was her very +child. All words were spoken, and there was nothing +more to hide.</p> + +<p>"Thou art my daughter, fair friend."</p> + +<p>Then for reason of the pity that was hers, she fell to +the ground, and lay in a swoon. When the lady came +again to herself, she sent for her husband, who, all +adread, hastened to the chamber. He marvelled the +more sorely when his wife fell at his feet, and embracing +him closely, entreated pardon for the evil that she had +done.</p> + +<p>Knowing nothing of her trespass, he made reply, +"Wife, what is this? Between you and me there is +nothing to call for forgiveness. Pardon you may have for +whatever fault you please. Tell me plainly what is +your wish."</p> + +<p>"Husband, my offence is so black, that you had better +give me absolution before I tell you the sin. A long time +ago, by reason of lightness and malice, I spoke evil of my +neighbour, whenas she bore two sons at a birth. I fell +afterwards into the very pit that I had digged. Though +I told you that I was delivered of a daughter, the truth +is that I had borne two maids. One of these I wrapped +in our stuff of samite, together with the ring you gave +me the first time we met, and caused her to be laid beside +a church. Such a sin will out. The cloth and the ring I +have found, and I have recognised our maid, whom I had +lost by my own folly. She is this very damsel—so fair +and amiable to all—whom the knight so greatly loved. +Now we have married the lord to her sister."</p> + +<p>The husband made answer, +"Wife, if your sin be double, our joy is manifold. Very +tenderly hath God dealt with us, in giving us back our +child. I am altogether joyous and content to have two +daughters for one. Daughter, come to your father's +side."</p> + +<p>The damsel rejoiced greatly to hear this story. Her +father tarried no longer, but seeking his son-in-law, +brought him to the Archbishop, and related the adventure. +The knight knew such joy as was never yet. The +Archbishop gave counsel that on the morrow he would +part him and her whom he had joined together. This +was done, for in the morning he severed them, bed and +board. Afterwards he married Frêne to her friend, and +her father accorded the damsel with a right good heart. +Her mother and sister were with her at the wedding, and +for dowry her father gave her the half of his heritage. +When they returned to their own realm they took +Coudre, their daughter, with them. There she was +granted to a lord of those parts, and rich was the feast.</p> + +<p>When this adventure was bruited abroad, and all +the story, the Lay of the Ash Tree was written, so called +of the lady, named Frêne.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="X"></a><h2>X</h2> + +<p>THE LAY OF THE HONEYSUCKLE</p> +<br> + +<p>With a glad heart and right good mind will I tell the +Lay that men call Honeysuckle; and that the truth may +be known of all it shall be told as many a minstrel has +sung it to my ear, and as the scribe hath written it +for our delight. It is of Tristan and Isoude, the Queen. +It is of a love which passed all other love, of love from +whence came wondrous sorrow, and whereof they died +together in the self-same day.</p> + +<p>King Mark was sorely wrath with Tristan, his sister's +son, and bade him avoid his realm, by reason of the +love he bore the Queen. So Tristan repaired to his own +land, and dwelt for a full year in South Wales, where +he was born. Then since he might not come where +he would be, Tristan took no heed to his ways, but +let his life run waste to Death. Marvel not overmuch +thereat, for he who loves beyond measure must ever +be sick in heart and hope, when he may not win according +to his wish. So sick in heart and mind was Tristan that +he left his kingdom, and returned straight to the realm +of his banishment, because that in Cornwall dwelt the +Queen. There he hid privily in the deep forest, withdrawn +from the eyes of men; only when the evening +was come, and all things sought their rest, he prayed +the peasant and other mean folk of that country, of their +charity to grant him shelter for the night. From the +serf he gathered tidings of the King. These gave again +to him what they, in turn, had taken from some outlawed +knight. Thus Tristan learned that when Pentecost +was come King Mark purposed to hold high Court at +Tintagel, and keep the feast with pomp and revelry; +moreover that thither would ride Isoude, the Queen.</p> + +<p>When Tristan heard this thing he rejoiced greatly, +since the Queen might not adventure through the forest, +except he saw her with his eyes. After the King had +gone his way, Tristan entered within the wood, and +sought the path by which the Queen must come. There +he cut a wand from out a certain hazel-tree, and having +trimmed and peeled it of its bark, with his dagger he +carved his name upon the wood. This he placed upon +her road, for well he knew that should the Queen but +mark his name she would bethink her of her friend. +Thus had it chanced before. For this was the sum of +the writing set upon the wand, for Queen Isoude's heart +alone: how that in this wild place Tristan had lurked +and waited long, so that he might look upon her face, +since without her he was already dead. Was it not with +them as with the Honeysuckle and the Hazel tree she +was passing by! So sweetly laced and taken were they +in one close embrace, that thus they might remain +whilst life endured. But should rough hands part so +fond a clasping, the hazel would wither at the root, +and the honeysuckle must fail. Fair friend, thus is +the case with us, nor you without me, nor I without you.</p> + +<p>Now the Queen fared at adventure down the forest +path. She spied the hazel wand set upon her road, and +well she remembered the letters and the name. She bade +the knights of her company to draw rein, and dismount +from their palfreys, so that they might refresh themselves +a little. When her commandment was done she +withdrew from them a space, and called to her Brangwaine, +her maiden, and own familiar friend. Then she +hastened within the wood, to come on him whom more +she loved than any living soul. How great the joy +between these twain, that once more they might speak +together softly, face to face. Isoude showed him her +delight. She showed in what fashion she strove to bring +peace and concord betwixt Tristan and the King, and +how grievously his banishment had weighed upon her +heart. Thus sped the hour, till it was time for them to +part; but when these lovers freed them from the other's +arms, the tears were wet upon their cheeks. So Tristan +returned to Wales, his own realm, even as his uncle +bade. But for the joy that he had had of her, his friend, +for her sweet face, and for the tender words that she had +spoken, yea, and for that writing upon the wand, to +remember all these things, Tristan, that cunning harper, +wrought a new Lay, as shortly I have told you. +Goatleaf, men call this song in English. Chèvrefeuille +it is named in French; but Goatleaf or Honeysuckle, +here you have the very truth in the Lay that I have +spoken.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="XI"></a><h2>XI</h2> + +<p>THE LAY OF EQUITAN</p> +<br> + +<p>In ancient days many a noble lord lived in Brittany +beyond the Seas. By reason of their courtesy and nobleness +they would gladly keep in remembrance the deeds +that were done in the land. That these marvellous +things should not be forgotten they fashioned them into +Lays. Amongst these Lays I have heard tell of one +which is not made to die as though it had never been.</p> + +<p>Equitan, lord of Nantes, was a loyal and courteous +gentleman, of great worth, beloved by all in his own +country. He was set on pleasure, and was Love's lover, +as became a gentle knight. Like many others who dote +on woman, he observed neither sense nor measure in +love. But it is in the very nature of Love that proportion +cannot enter into the matter.</p> + +<p>Equitan had for seneschal a right brave and loyal +knight, who was captain of his army, and did justice +in his realm. He was often abroad upon his master's +business, for the King would not forego his delight for +any reason whatever. To dance, to hunt, to fish within +the river—this was all his joy. This seneschal was married +to a wife, by whom great evil came upon the land. +Very desirable was the lady; passing tender of body, +and sweet of vesture, coiffed and fretted with gold. Her +eyes were blue; her face warmly coloured, with a +fragrant mouth, and a dainty nose. Certainly she had +no peer in all the realm. The King had heard much +in praise of this lady and many a time saluted her upon +the way. He had also sent her divers gifts. Often he +considered in his mind how best he might get speech +with the dame. For his privy pleasure this amorous +King went to chase in that country where the seneschal +had his castle. The lady being in her own house, +Equitan craved a lodging for the night. By this means +when the hunt was done, he could speak with her, and +show what was in his heart. Equitan found the lady +as discreet as courteous. He looked closely upon her, +for she was fair of face and person, and sweet of semblance +and address. Love bound him captive to his +car. The god loosed a shaft which entered deeply in his +breast. The arrow pierced to his heart, and from thenceforth +he cared nothing for measure, or kingship, or +delight. Equitan was so surprised of the lady, that he +remained silent and pensive. He heard nothing, and +nothing he could do. All night he lay in unrest upon +the bed, reproaching himself for what had come to pass.</p> + +<p>"Alas," said he, "what evil fate has led me into +this land! The sight only of this lady has put such +anguish into my heart that my members fail beneath +me. It is Love, I deem, who rides me thus cruelly. +But if I love this lady I shall do a great wrong. She +is the wife of my seneschal, and it is my duty to keep +the same love and faith to him as I would wish him +to observe with me. If by any means I could know +what is in her mind, I should be the easier, for torment +is doubled that you bear alone. There is not a dame, +however curst, but would rather love than not; for if +she were a contemner of love where would be her courtesy? +But if she loves, there is not a woman under the +sky who would not suck thereout all the advantage +that she may. If the matter came to the ears of the +seneschal, he ought not to think too hardly of me. He +cannot hope to keep such treasure for himself alone; +and, certes, I shall claim my portion."</p> + +<p>Equitan tossed on his bed, and sighed. His thoughts +were still on the lady, so that in a little he said, +"I think of the ford, before I come to the river. I +go too quickly, for I know not yet whether the lady will +take me as her friend. But know I will as swiftly as I +can, since I cannot get rest or sleep. I will come before +her as soon as it is day, and if she feels as I feel, the +sooner I shall be rid of my pain."</p> + +<p>The King kept vigil till the daylight came at last. +He arose and went forth, as if to the chase. He returned +presently, telling that he was sick, and going straight +to his chamber, lay upon his bed. The seneschal was +very troubled, for he could not imagine the sickness +of which his master felt the pangs. He counselled his +wife to seek their guest, that she might cheer and comfort +him in his trouble. When they were alone the King +opened to her his heart. He told her that he was dying +for her love, and that if she had no more than friendship +to offer, he preferred death before life.</p> + +<p>"Sire," replied the dame, "I require a little time to +think of what you say, for I cannot answer yes or no, +without thought, in a business of this moment. I am +not of your wealth, and you are too high a lord, for your +love to do more than rest lightly on me. When you +have had your desire, it will as lightly fly away. My +sorrow would be overlong, if I should love you, and +grant you what you wish. It is much the best that +between you and me love should not be spoken of. +You are a puissant prince; my husband is one of your +vassals, and faith and trust should bind us—not the +dangerous bond of love. Love is only lasting between +like and like. Better is the love of an honest man—so +he be of sense and worth—than that of a prince or +king, with no loyalty in him. She who sets her love more +highly than she can reach, may pluck no fruit from the +tree. The rich man deems that love is his of right. +He prays little of his friend, for he thinks none dare +take her from his hand, and that her tenderness is his +by prize of lordship."</p> + +<p>When she had ceased, Equitan made answer, +"Lady, I can offer you but short thanks for your +words, since they savour of scant courtesy. You speak +of love as a burgess makes a bargain. Those who desire +to get, rather than to give, often find that they have the +worser half of the business. There is no lady under +heaven—so she be courteous and kind and of a good +heart—but would grant her grace to a true lover, even +though she have beneath her cloak only a rich prince +in his castle. Those who care but for a fresh face—tricksters +in love as a cozener with dice—are justly +flouted and deceived, as oftentimes we see. None wastes +pity on him who receives the stripes he deserves. Dear +lady, let me make myself plain. Do not regard me as +your King; look on me as your servant and your friend. +I give my word and plight my troth that all my happiness +shall be found in your pleasure. Let me not die +for your love. You shall be the Dame, and I the page; +you shall be the scornful beauty, and I the prayer at +your knee."</p> + +<p>The King prayed the lady so urgently, so tenderly +he sued for grace, that at the last she assured him of +her love, and gave him the gift of her heart. They +granted rings one to another, and pledged affiance +between them. They kept this faith, and guarded this +love, till they died together, and there was an end to all.</p> + +<p>Equitan and the lady loved for a great while without +it coming to the ears of any. When the King desired +to have speech of his friend, he told his household that +he would be alone, since it was the day appointed for +his bleeding. The King having shut the doors of his +chamber, there was none so bold as to enter therein, +save he were bidden of his lord. Whilst he was busied +in this fashion, the seneschal sat in open court to hear +the pleas and right the wrong. He was as much to the +King's mind, as his wife was to the King's heart. The +lord was so assotted upon the lady that he would neither +take to himself a wife, nor listen to a word upon the +matter. His people blamed him loudly, so loudly that +it came to the ears of the lady. She was passing heavy, +for she feared greatly that the barons would have their +way. When next she had speech with Equitan, in place +of the kiss and sweetness of her customary greeting, +she came before him making great sorrow and in tears. +The King inquiring the reason of her dolour, the lady +replied, +"Sire, I lament our love, and the trouble I always +said would be mine. You are about to wed the daughter +of some King, and my good days are over. Everybody +says so, and I know it to be true. What will become of +me when you put me away! I will die, rather than lose +you, for I may have no other comfort."</p> + +<p>The King made answer very tenderly, +"Fair friend, you need not fear. There will never be +wife of mine to put you from me. I shall never wed, +except your husband die, and then it is you who would +be my queen and lady. I will leave you for no other +dame."</p> + +<p>The lady thanked him sweetly for his words. Much +was she beholden to him in her heart. Since she was +assured that he would not leave her for any other, +she turned over swiftly in her mind the profit that would +come from her husband's death. Much happiness might +be bought at a little cost, if Equitan would lend his aid.</p> + +<p>The King made answer that he would do her will to +the utmost of his power, whether her counsel were for +good or evil.</p> + +<p>"Sire," said the lady, "let it please you to hunt +the forest within the country where I dwell. You +can lodge in my lord's castle, and there you must be +bled. Three days after your surgery is done, you must +call for your bath. My lord shall be bled with you, so +that he may go to his bathing at the same time. It +will be your part to keep him at your side, and make +him your constant companion. It will be mine to +heat the water, and to carry the baths to your chamber. +My husband's bath shall boil so fiercely, that no breathing +man, having entered therein, may come forth living. +When he is dead you must call for your people, and +show them how the seneschal has died suddenly in his +bath."</p> + +<p>Because of his love the King granted her desire, and +promised to do according to her will. Before three +months were done the King rode to the chase within the +lady's realm. He caused surgeons to bleed him for his +health, and the seneschal with him. He said that he +would take his bath on the third day, and the seneschal +required his, too, to be made ready. The lady caused +the water to be heated, and carried the baths to the +chamber. According to her device she set a bath +beside each bed, filling with boiling water that bath +which her lord should enter. Her lord had gone forth +for a little, so for a space the King and the lady were +alone. They sat on the husband's bed, and looked +tenderly each on the other, near by that heated bath. +The door of the chamber was kept by a young damsel +to give them warning. The seneschal made haste to +return, and would have struck on the door of the +chamber, but was stayed by the maiden. He put her +by, and in his impatience flung the door wide open. +Entering he found his master and his wife clasped in +each other's arms. When the King saw the seneschal +he had no thought but to hide his dishonour. He +started up, and sprang with joined feet in the bath +that was filled with boiling water. There he perished +miserably, in the very snare he had spread for another, +who was safe and sound. The seneschal marked what +had happened to the King. In his rage he turned to +his wife, and laying hands upon her thrust her, head +first, in the self-same bath. So they died together, the +King first, and the lady afterwards, with him.</p> + +<p>Those who are willing to listen to fair words, may +learn from this ensample, that he who seeks another's +ill often brings the evil upon himself.</p> + +<p>As I have told you before, of this adventure the +Bretons made the Lay of Equitan, the lady whom he +loved, and of their end.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="XII"></a><h2>XII</h2> + +<p>THE LAY OF MILON</p> +<br> + +<p>He who would tell divers tales must know how to vary +the tune. To win the favour of any, he must speak to +the understanding of all. I purpose in this place to +show you the story of Milon, and—since few words are +best—I will set out the adventure as briefly as I may.</p> + +<p>Milon was born in South Wales. So great was his +prowess that from the day he was dubbed knight there +was no champion who could stand before him in the lists. +He was a passing fair knight, open and brave, courteous +to his friends, and stern to his foes. Men praised his +name in whatever realm they talked of gallant deeds—Ireland, +Norway, and Wales, yea, from Jutland even +to Albania. Since he was praised by the frank, he was +therefore envied of the mean. Nevertheless, by reason of +his skill with the spear, he was counted a very worshipful +knight, and was honourably entreated by many a prince +in divers lands.</p> + +<p>In Milon's own realm there lived a lord whose name +has gone from mind. With this baron dwelt his daughter, +a passing fair and gracious damsel. Much talk had this +maiden heard of Milon's knightly deeds, so that she +began to set her thoughts upon him, because of the good +men spoke of him. She sent him a message by a sure +hand, saying that if her love was to his mind, sweetly +would it be to her heart. Milon rejoiced greatly when +he knew this thing. He thanked the lady for her words, +giving her love again in return for her own, and swearing +that he would never depart therefrom any day of his days. +Beyond this courteous answer Milon bestowed on the messenger +costly gifts, and made him promises that were +richer still.</p> + +<p>"Friend," said he, "of your charity I pray you that I +may have speech with my friend, in such a fashion +that none shall know of our meeting. Carry her this, my +golden ring. Tell her, on my part, that so she pleases she +shall come to me, or, if it be her better pleasure, I will go +to her."</p> + +<p>The messenger bade farewell, and returned to his lady. +He placed the ring in her hand, saying that he had +done her will, as he was bidden to do.</p> + +<p>Right joyous was the damsel to know that Milon's love +was tender as her own. She required her friend to come +for speech within the private garden of her house, where +she was wont to take her delight. Milon came at her +commandment. He came so often, and so dearly she +loved him, that in the end she gave him all that maid may +give. When the damsel perceived how it was with her, +she sent messages to her friend, telling him of her case, +and making great sorrow.</p> + +<p>"I have lost my father and all his wealth," said the +lady, "for when he hears of this matter he will make +of me an example. Either I shall be tormented with +the sword, or else he will sell me as a slave in a far +country."</p> + +<p>(For such was the usage of our fathers in the days +of this tale).</p> + +<p>Milon grieved sorely, and made answer that he would +do the thing the damsel thought most seemly to be done.</p> + +<p>"When the child is born," replied the lady, "you must carry him +forthwith to my sister. She is a rich dame, pitiful and good, and is +wedded to a lord of Northumberland. You will send messages with the +babe—both in writing and by speech—that the little innocent is her +sister's child. Whether it be a boy or girl his mother will have +suffered much because of him, and for her sister's sake you will pray +her to cherish the babe. Beyond this I shall set your signet by a lace +about his neck, and write letters wherein shall be made plain the name +of his sire, and the sad story of his mother. When he shall have grown +tall, and of an age to understand these matters, his aunt will give him +your ring, and rehearse to him the letter. If this be done, perchance +the orphan will not be fatherless all his days."</p> + +<p>Milon approved the counsel of the lady, and when her +time had come she was brought to bed of a boy. The old +nurse who tended her mistress was privy to the damsel's +inmost mind. So warily she went to work, so cunning was +she in gloss and concealment, that none within the palace +knew that there was aught to hide. The damsel looked +upon her boy, and saw that he was very fair. She laced +the ring about his neck, and set the letter that it were +death to find, within a silken chatelaine. The child +was then placed in his cradle, swathed close in white +linen. A pillow of feathers was put beneath his head, +and over all was laid a warm coverlet, wadded with +fur. In this fashion the ancient nurse gave the babe to +his father, who awaited him within the garden. Milon +commended the child to his men, charging them to carry +him loyally, by such towns as they knew, to that lady +beyond the Humber. The servitors set forth, bearing the +infant with them. Seven times a day they reposed them +in their journey, so that the women might nourish the +babe, and bathe and tend him duly. They served their +lord so faithfully, keeping such watch upon the way, +that at the last they won to the lady to whom they +were bidden. The lady received them courteously, as +became her breeding. She broke the seal of the letter, and +when she was assured of what was therein, marvellously +she cherished the infant. These having bestowed the boy +in accordance with their lord's commandment, returned +to their own land.</p> + +<p>Milon went forth from his realm to serve beyond the +seas for guerdon. His friend remained within her house +and was granted by her father in marriage to a right rich +baron of that country. Though this baron was a worthy +knight, justly esteemed of all his fellows, the damsel was +grieved beyond measure when she knew her father's will. +She called to mind the past, and regretted that Milon had +gone from the country, since he would have helped her +in her need.</p> + +<p>"Alas!" said the lady, "what shall I do? I doubt +that I am lost, for my lord will find that his bride is +not a maid. If this becomes known they will make +me a bondwoman for all my days. Would that my +friend were here to free me from this coil. It were good +for me to die rather than to live, but by no means can I +escape from their hands. They have set warders about +me, men, old and young, whom they call my chamberlains, +contemners of love, who delight themselves in +sadness. But endure it I must, for, alas, I know not +how to die."</p> + +<p>So on the appointed day the lady was wedded to the +baron, and her husband took her to dwell with him +in his fief.</p> + +<p>When Milon returned to his own country he was right +heavy and sorrowful to learn of this marriage. He +lamented his wretched case, but in this he found comfort, +that he was not far from the realm where the lady abode +whom so tenderly he loved. Milon commenced to think +within himself how best he might send letters to the +damsel that he was come again to his home, yet so that +none should have knowledge thereof. He wrote a +letter, and sealed it with his seal. This message he +made fast to the neck, and hid within the plumage of +a swan that was long his, and was greatly to his +heart. He bade his squire to come, and made him +his messenger.</p> + +<p>"Change thy raiment swiftly," said he, "and hasten to +the castle of my friend. Take with thee my swan, and see +that none, neither servant nor handmaid, delivers the +bird to my lady, save thyself alone."</p> + +<p>The squire did according to his lord's commandment. +He made him ready quickly, and went forth, bearing +the swan with him. He went by the nearest road, and +passing through the streets of the city, came before the +portal of the castle. In answer to his summons the porter +drew near.</p> + +<p>"Friend," said he, "hearken to me. I am of Caerleon, +and a fowler by craft. Within my nets I have snared the +most marvellous swan in the world. This wondrous bird +I would bestow forthwith upon your lady, but perforce I +must offer her the gift with my own hand."</p> + +<p>"Friend," replied the porter, "fowlers are not always +welcomed of ladies. If you come with me I will bring +you where I may know whether it pleases my lady to have +speech with you and to receive your gift."</p> + +<p>The porter entered in the hall, where he found none but +two lords seated at a great table, playing chess for their +delight. He swiftly returned on his steps, and the fowler +with him, so furtively withal that the lords were not +disturbed at their game, nor perceived aught of the matter. +They went therefore to the chamber of the lady. In +answer to their call the door was opened to them by a +maiden, who led them before her dame. When the swan +was proffered to the lady it pleased her to receive the gift. +She summoned a varlet of her household and gave the +bird to his charge, commanding him to keep it safely, +and to see that it ate enough and to spare.</p> + +<p>"Lady," said the servitor, "I will do your bidding. +We shall never receive from any fowler on earth such +another bird as this. The swan is fit to serve at a royal +table, for the bird is plump as he is fair."</p> + +<p>The varlet put the swan in his lady's hands. She took +the bird kindly, and smoothing his head and neck, +felt the letter that was hidden beneath its feathers. The +blood pricked in her veins, for well she knew that the +writing was sent her by her friend. She caused the fowler +to be given of her bounty, and bade the men to go forth +from her chamber. When they had parted the lady +called a maiden to her aid. She broke the seal, and +unfastening the letter, came upon the name of Milon at +the head. She kissed the name a hundred times through +her tears. When she might read the writing she learned +of the great pain and dolour that her lover suffered by +day and by night. In you—he wrote—is all my pleasure, +and in your white hands it lies to heal me or to slay. +Strive to find a plan by which we may speak as friend +to friend, if you would have me live. The knight +prayed her in his letter to send him an answer by means +of the swan. If the bird were well guarded, and kept +without provand for three days, he would of a surety +fly back to the place from whence he came, with any +message that the lady might lace about his neck.</p> + +<p>When the damsel had considered the writing, and +understood what was put therein, she commanded that her +bird should be tended carefully, and given plenteously to +eat and to drink. She held him for a month within her +chamber, but this was less from choice, than for the +craft that was necessary to obtain the ink and parchment +requisite for her writing. At the end she wrote a letter +according to her heart, and sealed it with her ring. The +lady caused the swan to fast for three full days; then +having concealed the message about his neck, let him +take his flight. The bird was all anhungered for food, +and remembering well the home from which he drew, he +returned thither as quickly as his wings might bear him.</p> + +<p>He knew again his town, and his master's house, and +descended to the ground at Milon's very feet. Milon +rejoiced greatly when he marked his own. He caught +the bird by his wings, and crying for his steward, bade +him give the swan to eat. The knight removed the +missive from the messenger's neck. He glanced from head +to head of the letter, seeking the means that he hoped to +find, and the salutation he so tenderly wished. Sweet +to his heart was the writing, for the lady wrote that without +him there was no joy in her life, and since it was his +desire to hear by the swan, it would be her pleasure also.</p> + +<p>For twenty years the swan was made the messenger of +these two lovers, who might never win together. There +was no speech between them, save that carried by the +bird. They caused the swan to fast for three days, +and then sent him on his errand. He to whom the letter +came, saw to it that the messenger was fed to heart's +desire. Many a time the swan went upon his journey, +for however strictly the lady was held of her husband, +there was none who had suspicion of a bird.</p> + +<p>The dame beyond the Humber nourished and tended +the boy committed to her charge with the greatest care. +When he was come to a fitting age she made him to +be knighted of her lord, for goodly and serviceable was +the lad. On the same day the aunt read over to him +the letter, and put in his hand the ring. She told him +the name of his mother, and his father's story. In all +the world there was no worthier knight, nor a more +chivalrous and gallant gentleman. The lad hearkened +diligently to the lady's tale. He rejoiced greatly to hear +of his father's prowess, and was proud beyond measure of +his renown. He considered within himself, saying to his +own heart, that much should be required of his father's +son, and that he would not be worthy of his blood if he +did not endeavour to merit his name. He determined +therefore that he would leave his country, and seek +adventure as a knight errant, beyond the sea. The +varlet delayed no longer than the evening. On the morrow +he bade farewell to his aunt, who having warned and +admonished him for his good, gave him largely of her +wealth, to bring him on his way. He rode to Southampton, +that he might find a ship equipped for sea, +and so came to Barfleur. Without any tarrying the lad +went straight to Brittany, where he spent his money and +himself in feasts and in tourneys. The rich men of the +land were glad of his friendship, for there was none who +bore himself better in the press with spear or with sword. +What he took from the rich he bestowed on such knights +as were poor and luckless. These loved him greatly, +since he gained largely and spent freely, granting of his +wealth to all. Wherever this knight sojourned in the +realm he bore away the prize. So debonair was he and +chivalrous that his fame and praise crossed the water, +and were noised abroad in his own land. Folk told how a +certain knight from beyond the Humber, who had passed +the sea in quest of wealth and honour, had so done, that +by reason of his prowess, his liberality, and his modesty, +men called him the Knight Peerless, since they did not +know his name.</p> + +<p>This praise of the good knight, and of his deeds, came +to be heard of Milon. Very dolent was he and sorely +troubled that so young a knight should be esteemed above +his fathers. He marvelled greatly that the stout spears +of the past had not put on their harness and broken a +lance for their ancient honour. One thing he determined, +that he would cross the sea without delay, so that he +might joust with the dansellon, and abate his pride. In +wrath and anger he purposed to fight, to beat his adversary +from the saddle, and bring him at last to shame. +After this was ended he would seek his son, of whom he +had heard nothing, since he had gone from his aunt's +castle. Milon caused his friend to know of his wishes. +He opened out to her all his thought, and craved her +permission to depart. This letter he sent by the swan, +commending the bird to her care.</p> + +<p>When the lady heard of her lover's purpose, she thanked +him for his courtesy, for greatly was his counsel to her +mind. She approved his desire to quit the realm for +the sake of his honour, and far from putting let and +hindrance in his path, trusted that in the end he would +bring again her son. Since Milon was assured of his +friend's goodwill, he arrayed himself richly, and crossing +the sea to Normandy, came afterwards into the land of +the Bretons. There he sought the friendship of the lords +of that realm, and fared to all the tournaments of which +he might hear. Milon bore himself proudly, and gave +graciously of his wealth, as though he were receiving a +gift. He sojourned till the winter was past in that land, +he, and a brave company of knights whom he held in his +house with him. When Easter had come, and the season +that men give to tourneys and wars and the righting of +their private wrongs, Milon considered how he could meet +with the knight whom men called Peerless. At that +time a tournament was proclaimed to be held at Mont +St. Michel. Many a Norman and Breton rode to the +game; knights of Flanders and of France were there in +plenty, but few fared from England. Milon drew to the +lists amongst the first. He inquired diligently of the +young champion, and all men were ready to tell from +whence he came, and of his harness, and of the blazon on +his shield. At length the knight appeared in the lists and +Milon looked upon the adversary he so greatly desired +to see. Now in this tournament a knight could joust +with that lord who was set over against him, or he could +seek to break a lance with his chosen foe. A player must +gain or lose, and he might find himself opposed either +by his comrade or his enemy. Milon did well and worshipfully +in the press, and was praised of many that +day. But the Knight Peerless carried the cry from all +his fellows, for none might stand before him, nor rival +him in skill and address. Milon observed him curiously. +The lad struck so heavily, he thrust home so shrewdly, that +Milon's hatred changed to envy as he watched. Very +comely showed the varlet, and much to Milon's mind. +The older knight set himself over against the champion, +and they met together in the centre of the field. Milon +struck his adversary so fiercely, that the lance splintered +in his gauntlet; but the young knight kept his seat +without even losing a stirrup. In return his spear was +aimed with such cunning that he bore his antagonist +to the ground. Milon lay upon the earth bareheaded, +for his helmet was unlaced in the shock. His hair and +beard showed white to all, and the varlet was heavy to +look on him whom he had overthrown. He caught +the destrier by the bridle, and led him before the stricken +man.</p> + +<p>"Sir," said he, "I pray you to get upon your horse. +I am right grieved and vexed that I should have done +this wrong. Believe me that it was wrought unwittingly."</p> + +<p>Milon sprang upon his steed. He approved the +courtesy of his adversary, and looking upon the hand +that held his bridle, he knew again his ring. He made +inquiry of the lad.</p> + +<p>"Friend," said he, "hearken to me. Tell me now +the name of thy sire. How art thou called; who is +thy mother? I have seen much, and gone to and fro +about the world. All my life I have journeyed from realm +to realm, by reason of tourneys and quarrels and princes' +wars, yet never once by any knight have I been borne +from my horse. This day I am overthrown by a boy, +and yet I cannot help but love thee."</p> + +<p>The varlet answered, +"I know little of my father. I understand that his +name is Milon, and that he was a knight of Wales. +He loved the daughter of a rich man, and was loved +again. My mother bore me in secret, and caused me +to be carried to Northumberland, where I was taught and +tended. An old aunt was at the costs of my nourishing. +She kept me at her side, till of all her gifts she gave me +horse and arms, and sent me here, where I have remained. +In hope and wish I purpose to cross the sea, and return +to my own realm. There I would seek out my father, +and learn how it stands between him and my mother. +I will show him my golden ring, and I will tell him +of such privy matters that he may not deny our +kinship, but must love me as a son, and ever hold me +dear."</p> + +<p>When Milon heard these words he could endure +them no further. He got him swiftly from his horse, +and taking the lad by the fringe of his hauberk, he +cried, +"Praise be to God, for now am I healed. Fair friend, +by my faith thou art my very son, for whom I came +forth from my own land, and have sought through all +this realm."</p> + +<p>The varlet climbed from the saddle, and stood upon +his feet. Father and son kissed each other tenderly, +with many comfortable words. Their love was fair to +see, and those who looked upon their meeting, wept +for joy and pity.</p> +<br> + +<p>Milon and his son departed from the tournament so +soon as it came to an end, for the knight desired greatly +to speak to the varlet at leisure, and to open before him +all his mind. They rode to their hostel, and with the +knights of their fellowship, passed the hours in mirth +and revelry. Milon spoke to the lad of his mother. He +told him of their long love, and how she was given by +her father in marriage to a baron of his realm. He +rehearsed the years of separation, accepted by both +with a good heart, and of the messenger who carried +letters between them, when there was none they dared +to trust in, save only the swan.</p> + +<p>The son made answer,</p> + +<p>"In faith, fair father, let us return to our own land. +There I will slay this husband, and you shall yet be +my mother's lord."</p> + +<p>This being accorded between them, on the morrow they +made them ready for the journey, and bidding farewell to +their friends, set forth for Wales. They embarked in a +propitious hour, for a fair wind carried the ship right +swiftly to its haven. They had not ridden far upon +their road, when they met a certain squire of the lady's +household on his way to Brittany, bearing letters to +Milon. His task was done long before sundown in +chancing on the knight. He gave over the sealed +writing with which he was charged, praying the knight to +hasten to his friend without any tarrying, since her +husband was in his grave. Milon rejoiced greatly when +he knew this thing. He showed the message to his son, +and pressed forward without pause or rest. They made +such speed, that at the end they came to the castle where +the lady had her lodging. Light of heart was she +when she clasped again her child. These two fond +lovers sought neither countenance of their kin, nor counsel +of any man. Their son handselled them together, and +gave the mother to his sire. From the day they were wed +they dwelt in wealth and in sweetness to the end of +their lives.</p> + +<p>Of their love and content the minstrel wrought this +Lay. I, also, who have set it down in writing, have won +guerdon enough just by telling over the tale.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="XIII"></a><h2>XIII</h2> + +<p>THE LAY OF YONEC</p> +<br> + +<p>Since I have commenced I would not leave any of these +Lays untold. The stories that I know I would tell +you forthwith. My hope is now to rehearse to you the +story of Yonec, the son of Eudemarec, his mother's +first born child.</p> + +<p>In days of yore there lived in Britain a rich man, old +and full of years, who was lord of the town and realm of +Chepstow. This town is builded on the banks of the +Douglas, and is renowned by reason of many ancient +sorrows which have there befallen. When he was well +stricken in years this lord took to himself a wife, that he +might have children to come after him in his goodly +heritage. The damsel, who was bestowed on this +wealthy lord, came of an honourable house, and was +kind and courteous, and passing fair. She was beloved +by all because of her beauty, and none was more sweetly +spoken of from Chepstow to Lincoln, yea, or from there +to Ireland. Great was their sin who married the maiden +to this aged man. Since she was young and gay, he +shut her fast within his tower, that he might the easier +keep her to himself. He set in charge of the damsel +his elder sister, a widow, to hold her more surely in +ward. These two ladies dwelt alone in the tower, together +with their women, in a chamber by themselves. There +the damsel might have speech of none, except at the +bidding of the ancient dame. More than seven years +passed in this fashion. The lady had no children for +her solace, and she never went forth from the castle +to greet her kinsfolk and her friends. Her husband's +jealousy was such that when she sought her bed, no +chamberlain or usher was permitted in her chamber +to light the candles. The lady became passing heavy. +She spent her days in sighs and tears. Her loveliness +began to fail, for she gave no thought to her person. +Indeed at times she hated the very shadow of that beauty +which had spoiled all her life.</p> + +<p>Now when April had come with the gladness of the +birds, this lord rose early on a day to take his pleasure +in the woods. He bade his sister to rise from her bed +to make the doors fast behind him. She did his will, +and going apart, commenced to read the psalter that +she carried in her hand. The lady awoke, and shamed +the brightness of the sun with her tears. She saw that +the old woman was gone forth from the chamber, so +she made her complaint without fear of being overheard.</p> + +<p>"Alas," said she, "in an ill hour was I born. My +lot is hard to be shut in this tower, never to go out till +I am carried to my grave. Of whom is this jealous +lord fearful that he holds me so fast in prison? Great +is a man's folly always to have it in mind that he may +be deceived. I cannot go to church, nor hearken to the +service of God. If I might talk to folk, or have a little +pleasure in my life, I should show the more tenderness +to my husband, as is my wish. Very greatly are my +parents and my kin to blame for giving me to this +jealous old man, and making us one flesh. I cannot even +look to become a widow, for he will never die. In place +of the waters of baptism, certainly he was plunged in +the flood of the Styx. His nerves are like iron, and his +veins quick with blood as those of a young man. Often +have I heard that in years gone by things chanced to the +sad, which brought their sorrows to an end. A knight +would meet with a maiden, fresh and fair to his desire. +Damsels took to themselves lovers, discreet and brave, +and were blamed of none. Moreover since these ladies +were not seen of any, except their friends, who was +there to count them blameworthy! Perchance I deceive +myself, and in spite of all the tales, such adventures +happened to none. Ah, if only the mighty God would +but shape the world to my wish!"</p> + +<p>When the lady had made her plaint, as you have +known, the shadow of a great bird darkened the narrow +window, so that she marvelled what it might mean. +This falcon flew straightway into the chamber, jessed +and hooded from the glove, and came where the dame +was seated. Whilst the lady yet wondered upon him, +the tercel became a young and comely knight before her +eyes. The lady marvelled exceedingly at this sorcery. +Her blood turned to water within her, and because of +her dread she hid her face in her hands. By reason of +his courtesy the knight first sought to persuade her to +put away her fears.</p> + +<p>"Lady," said he, "be not so fearful. To you this +hawk shall be as gentle as a dove. If you will listen to +my words I will strive to make plain what may now be +dark. I have come in this shape to your tower that I +may pray you of your tenderness to make of me your +friend. I have loved you for long, and in my heart +have esteemed your love above anything in the world. +Save for you I have never desired wife or maid, and I +shall find no other woman desirable, until I die. I should +have sought you before, but I might not come, nor even +leave my own realm, till you called me in your need. +Lady, in charity, take me as your friend."</p> + +<p>The lady took heart and courage whilst she hearkened +to these words. Presently she uncovered her face, and +made answer. She said that perchance she would be +willing to give him again his hope, if only she had assurance +of his faith in God. This she said because of her +fear, but in her heart she loved him already by reason +of his great beauty. Never in her life had she beheld +so goodly a youth, nor a knight more fair.</p> + +<p>"Lady," he replied, "you ask rightly. For nothing +that man can give would I have you doubt my faith and +affiance. I believe truly in God, the Maker of all, who +redeemed us from the woe brought on us by our father +Adam, in the eating of that bitter fruit. This God is +and was and ever shall be the life and light of us poor +sinful men. If you still give no credence to my word, +ask for your chaplain; tell him that since you are sick +you greatly desire to hear the Service appointed by +God to heal the sinner of his wound. I will take your +semblance, and receive the Body of the Lord. You will +thus be certified of my faith, and never have reason +to mistrust me more."</p> + +<p>When the sister of that ancient lord returned from +her prayers to the chamber, she found that the lady +was awake. She told her that since it was time to get +her from bed, she would make ready her vesture. The +lady made answer that she was sick, and begged her +to warn the chaplain, for greatly she feared that she +might die. The agèd dame replied,</p> + +<p>"You must endure as best you may, for my lord +has gone to the woods, and none will enter in the tower, +save me."</p> + +<p>Right distressed was the lady to hear these words. +She called a woman's wiles to her aid, and made seeming +to swoon upon her bed. This was seen by the sister of +her lord, and much was she dismayed. She set wide +the doors of the chamber, and summoned the priest. +The chaplain came as quickly as he was able, carrying +with him the Lord's Body. The knight received the +Gift, and drank of the Wine of that chalice; then the +priest went his way, and the old woman made fast the +door behind him.</p> + +<p>The knight and the lady were greatly at their ease; +a comelier and a blither pair were never seen. They +had much to tell one to the other, but the hours passed +till it was time for the knight to go again to his own +realm. He prayed the dame to give him leave to depart, +and she sweetly granted his prayer, yet so only that he +promised to return often to her side.</p> + +<p>"Lady," he made answer, "so you please to require +me at any hour, you may be sure that I shall hasten at +your pleasure. But I beg you to observe such +measure in the matter, that none may do us wrong. +This old woman will spy upon us night and day, and if +she observes our friendship, will certainly show it to +her lord. Should this evil come upon us, for both it +means separation, and for me, most surely, death."</p> + +<p>The knight returned to his realm, leaving behind +him the happiest lady in the land. On the morrow +she rose sound and well, and went lightly through the +week. She took such heed to her person, that her former +beauty came to her again. The tower that she was wont +to hate as her prison, became to her now as a pleasant +lodging, that she would not leave for any abode and +garden on earth. There she could see her friend at will, +when once her lord had gone forth from the chamber. +Early and late, at morn and eve, the lovers met together. +God grant her joy was long, against the evil day that +came.</p> + +<p>The husband of the lady presently took notice of +the change in his wife's fashion and person. He was +troubled in his soul, and misdoubting his sister, took +her apart to reason with her on a day. He told her of +his wonder that his dame arrayed her so sweetly, and +inquired what this should mean. The crone answered +that she knew no more than he, "for we have very little +speech one with another. She sees neither kin nor friend; +but, now, she seems quite content to remain alone in +her chamber."</p> + +<p>The husband made reply,</p> + +<p>"Doubtless she is content, and well content. But +by my faith, we must do all we may to discover the +cause. Hearken to me. Some morning when I have +risen from bed, and you have shut the doors upon me, +make pretence to go forth, and let her think herself +alone. You must hide yourself in a privy place, where +you can both hear and see. We shall then learn the +secret of this new found joy."</p> + +<p>Having devised this snare the twain went their ways. +Alas, for those who were innocent of their counsel, and +whose feet would soon be tangled in the net.</p> + +<p>Three days after, this husband pretended to go forth +from his house. He told his wife that the King had +bidden him by letters to his Court, but that he should +return speedily. He went from the chamber, making +fast the door. His sister arose from her bed, and hid +behind her curtains, where she might see and hear +what so greedily she desired to know. The lady could +not sleep, so fervently she wished for her friend. The +knight came at her call, but he might not tarry, nor +cherish her more than one single hour. Great was the +joy between them, both in word and tenderness, till +he could no longer stay. All this the crone saw with +her eyes, and stored in her heart. She watched the +fashion in which he came, and the guise in which he +went. But she was altogether fearful and amazed that +so goodly a knight should wear the semblance of a hawk. +When the husband returned to his house—for he was +near at hand—his sister told him that of which she was +the witness, and of the truth concerning the knight. +Right heavy was he and wrathful. Straightway he +contrived a cunning gin for the slaying of this bird. He +caused four blades of steel to be fashioned, with point +and edge sharper than the keenest razor. These he +fastened firmly together, and set them securely within +that window, by which the tercel would come to his +lady. Ah, God, that a knight so fair might not see nor +hear of this wrong, and that there should be none to +show him of such treason.</p> + +<p>On the morrow the husband arose very early, at daybreak, +saying that he should hunt within the wood. +His sister made the doors fast behind him, and returned +to her bed to sleep, because it was yet but dawn. The +lady lay awake, considering of the knight whom she +loved so loyally. Tenderly she called him to her side. +Without any long tarrying the bird came flying at her +will. He flew in at the open window, and was entangled +amongst the blades of steel. One blade pierced his +body so deeply, that the red blood gushed from the +wound. When the falcon knew that his hurt was to +death, he forced himself to pass the barrier, and coming +before his lady fell upon her bed, so that the sheets +were dabbled with his blood. The lady looked upon +her friend and his wound, and was altogether anguished +and distraught.</p> + +<p>"Sweet friend," said the knight, "it is for you that +my life is lost. Did I not speak truly that if our loves +were known, very surely I should be slain?"</p> + +<p>On hearing these words the lady's head fell upon the +pillow, and for a space she lay as she were dead. The +knight cherished her sweetly. He prayed her not to +sorrow overmuch, since she should bear a son who would +be her exceeding comfort. His name should be called +Yonec. He would prove a valiant knight, and would +avenge both her and him by slaying their enemy. The +knight could stay no longer, for he was bleeding to death +from his hurt. In great dolour of mind and body he +flew from the chamber. The lady pursued the bird +with many shrill cries. In her desire to follow him she +sprang forth from the window. Marvellous it was that +she was not killed outright, for the window was fully +twenty feet from the ground. When the lady made her +perilous leap she was clad only in her shift. Dressed +in this fashion she set herself to follow the knight by +the drops of blood which dripped from his wound. She +went along the road that he had gone before, till she +lighted on a little lodge. This lodge had but one door, +and it was stained with blood. By the marks on the +lintel she knew that Eudemarec had refreshed him in the +hut, but she could not tell whether he was yet within. +The damsel entered in the lodge, but all was dark, and +since she might not find him, she came forth, and pursued +her way. She went so far that at the last the lady +came to a very fair meadow. She followed the track +of blood across this meadow, till she saw a city near at +hand. This fair city was altogether shut in with high +walls. There was no house, nor hall, nor tower, but +shone bright as silver, so rich were the folk who dwelt +therein. Before the town lay a still water. To the right +spread a leafy wood, and on the left hand, near by the +keep, ran a clear river. By this broad stream the ships +drew to their anchorage, for there were above three +hundred lying in the haven. The lady entered in the +city by the postern gate. The gouts of freshly fallen +blood led her through the streets to the castle. None +challenged her entrance to the city; none asked of her +business in the streets; she passed neither man nor +woman upon her way. Spots of red blood lay on the +staircase of the palace. The lady entered and found +herself within a low ceiled room, where a knight was +sleeping on a pallet. She looked upon his face and +passed beyond. She came within a larger room, empty, +save for one lonely couch, and for the knight who slept +thereon. But when the lady entered in the third chamber +she saw a stately bed, that well she knew to be her +friend's. This bed was of inwrought gold, and was +spread with silken cloths beyond price. The furniture +was worth the ransom of a city, and waxen torches in +sconces of silver lighted the chamber, burning night and +day. Swiftly as the lady had come she knew again her +friend, directly she saw him with her eyes. She hastened +to the bed, and incontinently swooned for grief. The +knight clasped her in his arms, bewailing his wretched +lot, but when she came to her mind, he comforted her +as sweetly as he might.</p> + +<p>"Fair friend, for God's love I pray you get from +hence as quickly as you are able. My time will end before +the day, and my household, in their wrath, may do you +a mischief if you are found in the castle. They are +persuaded that by reason of your love I have come to +my death. Fair friend, I am right heavy and sorrowful +because of you."</p> + +<p>The lady made answer, +"Friend, the best thing that can befall me is that we +shall die together. How may I return to my husband? +If he finds me again he will certainly slay me with the +sword."</p> + +<p>The knight consoled her as he could. He bestowed +a ring upon his friend, teaching her that so long as she +wore the gift, her husband would think of none of these +things, nor care for her person, nor seek to revenge him +for his wrongs. Then he took his sword and rendered +it to the lady, conjuring her by their great love, never +to give it to the hand of any, till their son should be +counted a brave and worthy knight. When that time +was come she and her lord would go—together with +the son—to a feast. They would lodge in an Abbey, +where should be seen a very fair tomb. There her son +must be told of this death; there he must be girt +with this sword. In that place shall be rehearsed the +tale of his birth, and his father, and all this bitter +wrong. And then shall be seen what he will do.</p> + +<p>When the knight had shown his friend all that was +in his heart, he gave her a bliaut, passing rich, that she +might clothe her body, and get her from the palace. +She went her way, according to his command, bearing +with her the ring, and the sword that was her most +precious treasure. She had not gone half a mile beyond +the gate of the city when she heard the clash of bells, +and the cries of men who lamented the death of their +lord. Her grief was such that she fell four separate +times upon the road, and four times she came from out +her swoon. She bent her steps to the lodge where her +friend had refreshed him, and rested for awhile. Passing +beyond she came at last to her own land, and returned +to her husband's tower. There, for many a day, she +dwelt in peace, since—as Eudemarec foretold—her +lord gave no thought to her outgoings, nor wished to +avenge him, neither spied upon her any more.</p> + +<p>In due time the lady was delivered of a son, whom +she named Yonec. Very sweetly nurtured was the lad. +In all the realm there was not his like for beauty and +generosity, nor one more skilled with the spear. When +he was of a fitting age the King dubbed him knight. +Hearken now, what chanced to them all, that self-same +year.</p> + +<p>It was the custom of that country to keep the feast +of St. Aaron with great pomp at Caerleon, and many +another town besides. The husband rode with his +friends to observe the festival, as was his wont. Together +with him went his wife and her son, richly +apparelled. As the roads were not known of the company, +and they feared to lose their way, they took with +them a certain youth to lead them in the straight path. +The varlet brought them to a town; in all the world +was none so fair. Within this city was a mighty Abbey, +filled with monks in their holy habit. The varlet craved +a lodging for the night, and the pilgrims were welcomed +gladly of the monks, who gave them meat and drink +near by the Abbot's table. On the morrow, after Mass, +they would have gone their way, but the Abbot prayed +them to tarry for a little, since he would show them his +chapter house and dormitory, and all the offices of the +Abbey. As the Abbot had sheltered them so courteously, +the husband did according to his wish.</p> + +<p>Immediately that the dinner had come to an end, +the pilgrims rose from table, and visited the offices of +the Abbey. Coming to the chapter house they entered +therein, and found a fair tomb, exceeding great, covered +with a silken cloth, banded with orfreys of gold. Twenty +torches of wax stood around this rich tomb, at the head, +the foot, and the sides. The candlesticks were of fine +gold, and the censer swung in that chantry was fashioned +from an amethyst. When the pilgrims saw the great +reverence vouchsafed to this tomb, they inquired of +the guardians as to whom it should belong, and of the +lord who lay therein. The monks commenced to weep, +and told with tears, that in that place was laid the body +of the best, the bravest, and the fairest knight who ever +was, or ever should be born. "In his life he was King +of this realm, and never was there so worshipful a lord. +He was slain at Caerwent for the love of a lady of those +parts. Since then the country is without a King. Many +a day have we waited for the son of these luckless lovers +to come to our land, even as our lord commanded us +to do."</p> + +<p>When the lady heard these words she cried to her +son with a loud voice before them all.</p> + +<p>"Fair son," said she, "you have heard why God +has brought us to this place. It is your father who lies +dead within this tomb. Foully was he slain by this +ancient Judas at your side."</p> + +<p>With these words she plucked out the sword, and +tendered him the glaive that she had guarded for so +long a season. As swiftly as she might she told the +tale of how Eudemarec came to have speech with his +friend in the guise of a hawk; how the bird was betrayed +to his death by the jealousy of her lord; and of Yonec +the falcon's son. At the end she fell senseless across +the tomb, neither did she speak any further word until +the soul had gone from her body. When the son saw +that his mother lay dead upon her lover's grave, he +raised his father's sword and smote the head of that +ancient traitor from his shoulders. In that hour he +avenged his father's death, and with the same blow +gave quittance for the wrongs of his mother. As soon +as these tidings were published abroad, the folk of that +city came together, and setting the body of that fair +lady within a coffin, sealed it fast, and with due rite +and worship placed it beside the body of her friend. +May God grant them pardon and peace. As to Yonec, +their son, the people acclaimed him for their lord, as +he departed from the church.</p> + +<p>Those who knew the truth of this piteous adventure, +after many days shaped it to a Lay, that all men might +learn the plaint and the dolour that these two friends +suffered by reason of their love.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="XIV"></a><h2>XIV</h2> + +<p>THE LAY OF THE THORN</p> +<br> + +<p>Whosoever counts these Lays as fable, may be assured +that I am not of his mind. The dead and past stories +that I have told again in divers fashions, are not set +down without authority. The chronicles of these far off +times are yet preserved in the land. They may be read +by the curious at Caerleon, or in the monastery of St. +Aaron. They may be heard in Brittany, and in many +another realm besides. To prove how the remembrance +of such tales endures, I will now relate to you the +adventure of the Two Children, making clear what has +remained hidden to this very hour.</p> + +<p>In Brittany there lived a prince, high of spirit, fair of +person, courteous and kind to all. This Childe was a +King's son, and there were none to cherish him but his +father and his father's wife, for his mother was dead. +The King held him dearer than aught else in the world, +and close he was to the lady's heart. The lady, for +her part, had a daughter by another husband than +the King. Very dainty was the maiden, sweet of colour +and of face, passing young and fair. Both these children, +born to so high estate, were right tender of age, for the +varlet, who was the elder of the twain, was but seven +years. The two children loved together very sweetly. +Nothing seemed of worth to one, if it were not shared +with the other. They were nourished at the same table, +went their ways together, and lived side by side. The +guardians who held them in ward, seeing their great love, +made no effort to put them apart, but allowed them to +have all things in common. The love of these children +increased with their years, but Dame Nature brought +another love to youth and maid than she gave to the +child. They delighted no more in their old frolic and +play. Such sport gave place to clasp and kisses, to +many words, and to long silences. To savour their +friendship they took refuge in an attic of the keep, but all +the years they had passed together, made the new love +flower more sweetly in their hearts, as each knew well. +Very pure and tender was their love, and good would it +have been if they could have hidden it from their fellows. +This might not be, for in no great while they were spied +upon, and seen.</p> + +<p>It chanced upon a day that this prince, so young and +debonair, came home from the river with an aching +head, by reason of the heat. He entered in a chamber, +and shutting out the noise and clamour, lay upon his +bed, to ease his pain. The Queen was with her daughter +in a chamber, instructing her meetly in that which it +becomes a maid to know. Closer to a damsel's heart is +her lover than her kin. So soon as she heard that her +friend was come again to the house, she stole forth from +her mother, without saying word to any, and accompanied +by none, went straight to the chamber where he +slept. The prince welcomed her gladly, for they had not +met together that day. The lady, who thought no wrong, +condoled with him in his sickness, and of her sweetness +gave him a hundred kisses to soothe his hurt. Too +swiftly sped the time in this fashion. Presently the +Queen noticed that the damsel was no longer with her +at her task. She rose to her feet, and going quickly to +the chamber of the prince, entered therein without call +or knock, for the door was unfastened on the latch. +When the Queen saw these two lovers fondly laced in +each other's arms, she knew and was certified of their +love. Right wrathful was the Queen. She caught the +maiden by the wrist, and shut her fast in her room. She +prayed the King to govern his son more strictly, and to +hold him in such ward about the Court that he might get +no speech with the damsel. Since he could have neither +sight nor word of his friend, save only the sound of weeping +from her chamber, the prince determined to tarry no further +in the palace. He sought his father the self-same +hour, and showed him what was in his mind.</p> + +<p>"Sire," said he, "I crave a gift. If it pleases you to be +a father to your son, make me now a knight. I desire to +seek another realm, and to serve some prince for guerdon. +The road calls me, for many a knight has won much +riches with his sword."</p> + +<p>The King did not refuse the lad's request, but accorded +it should be even as he wished. He prayed the prince to +dwell for a year about the Court, that he might the more +readily assist at such tourneys and follow such feats of +arms as were proclaimed in the kingdom. This the prince +agreed to do—the more readily because there was +nothing else to be done. He remained therefore at the +Court, moving ever by his father's side. The maiden, for +her part, was in the charge of her mother, who reproached +her always for that she had done amiss. The Queen did +not content herself with reproaches and threats. She +used the sharp discipline upon her, so that the maiden +suffered grievously in her person. Sick at heart was +the varlet whilst he hearkened to the beatings, the +discipline and the chastisement wherewith her mother +corrected the damsel. He knew not what to do, for +well he understood that his was the fault, and that by +reason of him was her neck bowed down in her youth. +More and more was he tormented because of his friend.</p> + +<p>More and more the stripes with which she was afflicted +became heavier for him to bear. He shut himself close +within his chamber, and making fast the door, gave his +heart over to tears.</p> + +<p>"Alas," cried he, "what shall I do! How may the +ill be cured that I have brought on us by my lightness +and folly! I love her more than life, and, certes, if I +may not have my friend I will prove that I can die for +her, though I cannot live without her."</p> + +<p>Whilst the prince made this lamentation, the Queen +came before the King.</p> + +<p>"Sir," said she, "I pledge my oath and word as a +crowned lady that I keep my daughter as strictly as I +may. Think to your own son, and see to it that he cannot +set eyes on the maid. He considers none other thing +but how to get clasp and speech of his friend."</p> + +<p>For this reason the King guarded his son about the +Court as closely as the Queen held the maiden in her +chamber. So vigilant was the watch that these pitiful +lovers might never have word together. They had no +leisure to meet; they never looked one on the other; +nor heard tidings of how they did, whether by letter +or by sergeant.</p> + +<p>They lived this death in life till the same year—eight +days before the Feast of St. John—the varlet was dubbed +knight. The King spent the day in the chase, and +returning, brought with him great store of fowl and +venison that he had taken. After supper, when the +tables were removed, the King seated himself for his +delight upon a carpet spread before the dais, his son +and many a courteous lord with him. The fair company +gave ear to the Lay of Alys, sweetly sung by a minstrel +from Ireland, to the music of his rote. When his story +was ended, forthwith he commenced another, and related +the Lay of Orpheus; none being so bold as to disturb +the singer, or to let his mind wander from the song. +Afterwards the knights spoke together amongst themselves. +They told of adventures which in ancient days +had chanced to many, and were noised about Brittany. +Amongst these lords sat a damsel, passing sweet of +tongue. In her turn she told of a certain adventure +which awaited the adventurous at the Ford of the +Thorn, once every year, on the vigil of St. John, "but +much I doubt whether now there be knights so bold +as to dare the perils of that passage." When the newly +made knight heard these words his pride quickened +within him. He considered that although he was belted +with the sword, he had as yet done no deed to prove +his courage in the eyes of men. He deemed the time +had come to show his hardihood, and to put to silence +the malicious lips. He stood upon his feet, calling +upon damsel, King and barons to hearken to his voice, +and spake out manfully in the ears of great and small.</p> + +<p>"Lords," cried he, "whatever says the maiden, I +boast before you all that on St. John's Eve I will ride +alone to the Ford of the Thorn, and dare this adventure, +whether it bring me gain or whether it bring me loss."</p> + +<p>The King was right heavy to hear these words. He +thought them to be the gab and idle speech of a boy.</p> + +<p>"Fair son," said he, "put this folly from your mind."</p> + +<p>But when the King was persuaded that whether it +were foolishness or wisdom the lad was determined to +go his way, and abide the issue of the adventure,</p> + +<p>"Go swiftly," said he, "in the care of God. Since +risk your life you must, play it boldly like a pawn, and +may God grant you heart's desire and happy hours."</p> + +<p>The self-same night, whilst the lad lay sleeping in +his bed, that fair lady, his friend, was in much unrest +in hers. The tidings of her lover's boast had been carried +quickly to her chamber, and sorely was she adread for +what might chance. When the Eve of St. John was +come, and the day drew towards evening, the varlet, +with all fair hopes, made him ready to ride to the Ford +Adventurous. He had clad himself from basnet to +shoes in steel, and mounted on a strong destrier, went +his road to essay the Passage of the Thorn. Whilst he +took his path the maiden took hers. She went furtively +to the orchard, that she might importune God to bring +her friend again, safe and sound to his own house. She +seated herself on the roots of a tree, and with sighs and +tears lamented her piteous case.</p> + +<p>"Father of Heaven," said the girl, "Who was and +ever shall be, be pitiful to my prayer. Since it is not +to Thy will that any man should be wretched, be +merciful to a most unhappy maid. Fair Sire, give back +the days that are gone, when my friend was at my side, +and grant that once again I may be with him. Lord +God of Hosts, when shall I be healed? None knows the +bitterness of my sorrow, for none may taste thereof, +save such as set their heart on what they may not have. +These only, Lord, know the wormwood and the gall."</p> + +<p>Thus prayed the maiden, seated on the roots of that +ancient tree, her feet upon the tender grass. At the time +of her orisons much was she sought and inquired after +in the palace, but none might find where she had hidden. +The damsel herself was given over altogether to her love +and her sorrow, and had no thought for anything, save +for prayers and tears. The night wore through, and +dawn already laced the sky, when she fell on a little +slumber, in the tree where she was sheltered. She woke +with a start, but returned to her sleep more deeply +than before. She had not slept long, when herseemed +she was ravished from the tree—but I cannot make +this plain for I know no wizardry—to that Ford of the +Thorn, where her friend and lover had repaired. The +knight looked upon the sleeping maiden, and marvelled +at so fair a sight. All adread was the lady when she +came from her slumber, for she knew not where she +lay, and wondered greatly. She covered her head by +reason of her exceeding fear, but the knight consoled +her courteously.</p> + +<p>"Diva," said he, "there is no reason for terror. If +you are an earthly woman, speaking with a mortal +tongue, tell me your story. Tell me in what guise and +manner you came so suddenly to this secret place."</p> + +<p>The maiden began to be of more courage, till she +remembered that she was no longer in the orchard of +the castle. She inquired of the knight to what haunt +she had come.</p> + +<p>"Lady," he made answer, "you are laid at the Ford +of the Thorn, where adventures chance to the seeker, +sometimes greatly against the mind, and sometimes +altogether according to the heart."</p> + +<p>"Ah, dear God," cried the lady, "now shall I be made +whole. Sir, look a little closer upon me, for I have been +your friend. Thanks be to God, who so soon has heard +my prayer."</p> + +<p>This was the beginning of adventures which happened +that night to the seeker. The maiden hastened to +embrace her lover. He got him nimbly from his horse, +and taking her softly between his arms, kissed her with +more kisses than I can tell. Then they sat together +beneath the thorn, and the damsel told how she fell +asleep within that old tree in the pleasaunce, of how +she was rapt from thence in her slumber, and of how, +yet sleeping, he came upon her by the Ford. When the +knight had hearkened to all that she had to say, he +looked from her face, and glancing across the river, +marked a lord, with lifted lance, riding to the ford. +This knight wore harness of a fair vermeil colour, and +bestrode a horse white of body, save for his two ears, +which were red as the rider's mail. Slender of girdle +was this knight, and he made no effort to enter the river, +but drew rein upon the other side of the passage, +and watched. The varlet said to his friend that it became +his honour to essay some feats of arms with this adversary. +He got to horse, and rode to the river, leaving +the maiden beneath the thorn. Had she but found +another horse at need, very surely would she have ridden +to his aid. The two knights drew together as swiftly +as their steeds could bear them. They thrust so shrewdly +with the lance, that their shields were split and broken. +The spears splintered in the gauntlet, and both champions +were unhorsed by the shock, rolling on the sand; +but nothing worse happened to them. Since they had +neither squire nor companion to help them on their +feet, they pained them grievously to get them from the +ground. When they might climb upon their steeds, +they hung again the buckler about the neck, and lowered +their ashen spears. Passing heavy was the varlet, for +shame that his friend had seen him thrown. The two +champions met together in the onset, but the prince +struck his adversary so cunningly with the lance, that +the laces of his buckler were broken, and the shield +fell from his body. When the varlet saw this he rejoiced +greatly, for he knew that the eyes of his friend were upon +him. He pressed his quarrel right fiercely, and tumbling +his foe from the saddle, seized his horse by the bridle.<a name="FNanchor2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2"><sup>[2]</sup></a></p> + +<p>The two knights passed the ford, and the prince +feared sorely because of the skill and mightiness of his +adversary. He could not doubt that if they fell upon +him together he would perish at their hands. He put +the thought from mind, for he would not suspect them +of conduct so unbecoming to gentle knight, and so +contrary to the laws of chivalry. If they desired some +passage of arms, doubtless they would joust as gentlemen, +and each for himself alone. When these three knights +were mounted on their steeds, they crossed the ford +with courtesy and order, each seeking to give precedence +to his companion. Having come to the bank +the stranger knights prayed the prince to run a course +for their pleasure. He answered that it was his wish, +too, and made him ready for the battle. The prince +rejoiced greatly when he saw one of these two adversaries +ride a little apart, that he might the more easily observe +the combat. He was assured that he would suffer no +felony at their hands. For their part the two knights +were persuaded that they had to do with an errant who +had ridden to the ford for no other gain than honour +and praise. The two adversaries took their places +within the lists. They lowered their lance, and covering +their bodies with the shield, smote fiercely together. +So rude was the shock that the staves of the spears +were broken, and the strong destriers were thrown upon +their haunches. Neither of the good knights had lost +his saddle. Each of the combatants got him to his feet, +and drawing the sword, pressed upon his fellow, till the +blood began to flow. When the knight who judged this +quarrel saw their prowess, he came near, and commanded +that the battle should cease. The adversaries drew apart, +and struck no further blow with the sword. Right +courteously and with fair words he spake to the prince. +"Friend," said the knight, "get to your horse, and +break a lance with me. Then we can go in peace, for +our time grows short. You must endure till the light be +come if you hope to gain the prize. Do your devoir, +valiantly, for should you chance to be thrown in this +course, or slain by misadventure, you have lost your +desire. None will ever hear of this adventure; all +your life you will remain little and obscure. Your maiden +will be led away by the victor, seated on the good +Castilian horse you have gained by right of courage. +Fight bravely. The trappings of the destrier are worth +the spoil of a king's castle, and as for the horse himself +he is the swiftest and the fairest in the world. Be not +amazed that I tell you of these matters. I have watched +you joust, and know you for a hardy knight and a +gallant gentleman. Besides I stand to lose horse and +harness equally with you."</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor2">[2]</a><div class=note> There is here some omission in the manuscript.</div><br> + +<p>The prince listened to these words, and accorded that +the knight spoke wisely and well. He would willingly +have taken counsel of the maiden, but first, as surely +he knew, he must joust with this knight. He gathered +the reins in his glove, and choosing a lance with an +ashen staff, opposed himself to his adversary. The +combatants met together so fiercely that the lance +pierced the steel of the buckler; yet neither lost stirrup +by the shock. When the prince saw this he smote the +knight so shrewdly that he would have fallen from the +saddle, had he not clung to the neck of his destrier. +Of his courtesy the prince passed on, and refrained his +hand until his enemy had recovered his seat. On his +return he found the knight full ready to continue his +devoir. Each of the champions plucked forth his sword, +and sheltered him beneath his shield. They struck +such mighty blows that the bucklers were hewn in pieces, +but in spite of all they remained firm in the saddle. +The maiden was aghast whilst she watched the melée. +She had great fear for her friend, lest mischief should +befall him, and she cried loudly to the knight that, for +grace, he should give over this combat, and go his way. +Very courteous was the knight, and meetly schooled +in what was due to maidens. He saluted the damsel, +and, together with his companion, rode straightway +from the ford. The prince watched them pass for +a little, then without further tarrying he went swiftly +to the maiden, where, all fearful and trembling, she +knelt beneath the thorn. The lady stood upon her feet +as her lover drew near. She climbed behind him on +the saddle, for well she knew that their pains were +done. They fared so fast that when it was yet scarce +day they came again to the palace. The King saw them +approach, and rejoiced greatly at his son's prowess; +but at this he marvelled much, that he should return +with the daughter of the Queen.</p> + +<p>The self-same day of this homecoming—as I have +heard tell—the King had summoned to Court his barons +and vassals because of a certain quarrel betwixt two of +his lords. This quarrel being accorded between them, +and come to a fair end, the King related to that blithe +company the story of this adventure. He told again +that which you know, of how the prince defended the +Ford, of the finding of the maiden beneath the thorn, +of the mighty joust, and of that white horse which was +taken from the adversary.</p> + +<p>The prince both then and thereafter caused the horse +to be entreated with the greatest care. He received the +maiden to wife, and cherished her right tenderly. She, +and the steed on which she would always ride, were his +richest possessions. The destrier lived many years in +much honour, but on a day when his master was taking +the harness from his head, he fell and died forthwith.</p> + +<p>Of the story which has been set before you the Bretons +wrought a Lay. They did not call the song the Lay of +the Ford, although the adventure took place at a river; +neither have they named it The Lay of the Two Children. +For good or ill the rhyme is known as the Lay of the +Thorn. It begins well and endeth better, for these +kisses find their fruition in marriage.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="XV"></a><h2>XV</h2> + +<p>THE LAY OF GRAELENT</p> +<br> + +<p>Now will I tell you the adventure of Graelent, even as +it was told to me, for the Lay is sweet to hear, and the +tune thereof lovely to bear in mind.</p> + +<p>Graelent was born in Brittany of a gentle and noble +house, very comely of person and very frank of heart. +The King who held Brittany in that day, made mortal +war upon his neighbours, and commanded his vassals +to take arms in his quarrel. Amongst these came +Graelent, whom the King welcomed gladly, and since +he was a wise and hardy knight greatly was he honoured +and cherished by the Court. So Graelent strove +valiantly at tourney and at joust, and pained himself +mightily to do the enemy all the mischief that he was +able. The Queen heard tell the prowess of her knight, +and loved him in her heart for reason of his feats of +arms and of the good men spoke of him. So she called +her chamberlain apart, and said, +"Tell me truly, hast thou not often heard speak of +that fair knight, Sir Graelent, whose praise is in all +men's mouths?"</p> + +<p>"Lady," answered the chamberlain, "I know him +for a courteous gentleman, well spoken of by all."</p> + +<p>"I would he were my friend," replied the lady, "for +I am in much unrest because of him. Go thou, and +bid him come to me, so he would be worthy of my love." +"Passing gracious and rich is your gift, lady, and +doubtless he will receive it with marvellous joy. Why, +from here to Troy there is no priest even, however holy, +who in looking on your face would not lose Heaven in +your eyes."</p> + +<p>Thereupon the chamberlain took leave of the Queen, +and seeking Graelent within his lodging saluted him +courteously, and gave him the message, praying him to +come without delay to the palace.</p> + +<p>"Go before, fair friend," answered the knight, "for +I will follow you at once."</p> + +<p>So when the chamberlain was gone Graelent caused +his grey horse to be saddled, and mounting thereon, rode +to the castle, attended by his squire. He descended +without the hall, and passing before the King entered +within the Queen's chamber. When the lady saw him +she embraced him closely, and cherished and honoured +him sweetly. Then she made the knight to be seated +on a fair carpet, and to his face praised him for his +exceeding comeliness. But he answered her very +simply and courteously, saying nothing but what was +seemly to be said. Then the Queen kept silence for a +great while, considering whether she should require him +to love her for the love of love; but at the last, made +bold by passion, she asked if his heart was set on any +maid or dame.</p> + +<p>"Lady," said he, "I love no woman, for love is a +serious business, not a jest. Out of five hundred who +speak glibly of love, not one can spell the first letter +of his name. With such it is idleness, or fulness of bread, +or fancy, masking in the guise of love. Love requires of +his servants chastity in thought, in word and in deed. +If one of two lovers is loyal, and the other jealous and +false, how may their friendship last, for Love is slain! +But sweetly and discreetly love passes from person to +person, from heart to heart, or it is nothing worth. +For what the lover would, that would the beloved; +what she would ask of him that should he go before to +grant. Without accord such as this, love is but a bond +and a constraint. For above all things Love means +sweetness, and truth, and measure; yea, loyalty to the +loved one and to your word. And because of this I dare +not meddle with so high a matter."</p> + +<p>The Queen heard Graelent gladly, finding him so +tripping of tongue, and since his words were wise and +courteous, at the end she discovered to him her heart.</p> + +<p>"Friend, Sir Graelent, though I am a wife, yet have +I never loved my lord. But I love you very dearly, +and what I have asked of you will you not go before +to grant?"</p> + +<p>"Lady," said he, "give me pity and forgiveness, +but this may not be. I am the vassal of the King, and +on my knees have pledged him loyalty and faith, and +sworn to defend his life and honour. Never shall he +have shame because of me."</p> + +<p>With these words Sir Graelent took his leave of the +Queen, and went his way.</p> + +<p>Seeing him go in this fashion the Queen commenced +to sigh. She was grieved in her heart, and knew not +what to do. But whatever chanced she would not +renounce her passion, so often she required his love by +means of soft messages and costly gifts, but he refused +them all. Then the Queen turned from love to hate, +and the greatness of her passion became the measure +of her wrath, for very evilly she spoke of Graelent to the +King. So long as the war endured Graelent remained +in that realm. He spent all that he had upon his company, +for the King grudged wages to his men. The +Queen persuaded the King to this, counselling him that +by withholding the pay of the sergeants, Graelent +might in no wise flee the country, nor take service +with another lord. So at the end Graelent was wonderfully +downcast, nor was it strange that he was sad, +for there remained nothing which he might pledge, +but one poor steed, and when this was gone, no horse +had he to carry him from the country.</p> + +<p>It was now the month of May, when the hours are +long and warm. The burgess, with whom Graelent +lodged, had risen early in the morning, and with his +wife had gone to eat with neighbours in the town. +No one was in the house except Graelent, no squire, +nor archer, nor servant, save only the daughter of his +host, a very courteous maid. When the hour for dinner +was come she prayed the knight that they might sit +at board together. But he had no heart for mirth, and +seeking out his squire bade him bridle and saddle his +horse, for he had no care to eat.</p> + +<p>"I have no saddle," replied the squire.</p> + +<p>"Friend," said the demoiselle, "I will lend you +bridle and saddle as well."</p> + +<p>So when the harness was done upon him, Graelent +mounted his horse, and went his way through the town, +clad in a cloak of sorry fur, which he had worn overlong +already. The townsfolk in the street turned and stared +upon him, making a jest of his poverty, but of their +jibes he took no heed, for such act but after their kind, +and seldom show kindliness or courtesy.</p> + +<p>Now without the town there spread a great forest, +thick with trees, and through the forest ran a river. +Towards this forest Graelent rode, deep in heavy thought, +and very dolent. Having ridden for a little space +beneath the trees, he spied within a leafy thicket a fair +white hart, whiter even than snow on winter branches. +The hart fled before him, and Graelent followed so +closely in her track that man and deer presently came +together to a grassy lawn, in the midst of which sprang +a fountain of clear, sweet water. Now in this fountain +a demoiselle disported herself for her delight. Her +raiment was set on a bush near by, and her two maidens +stood on the bank busied in their lady's service. Graelent +forgot the chase at so sweet a sight, since never in his +life had he seen so lovely a dame. For the lady was +slender in shape and white, very gracious and dainty +of colour, with laughing eyes and an open brow, certainly +the most beautiful thing in all the world. Graelent +dared not draw nigh the fountain for fear of troubling +the dame, so he came softly to the bush to set hands +upon her raiment. The two maidens marked his +approach, and at their fright the lady turned, and calling +him by name, cried with great anger,</p> + +<p>"Graelent, put my raiment down, for it will profit +you little even if you carry it away, and leave me naked +in this wood. But if you are indeed too greedy of gain +to remember your knighthood, at least return me my +shift, and content yourself with my mantle, since it +will bring you money, as it is very good."</p> + +<p>"I am not a merchant's son," answered Graelent +merrily, "nor am I a huckster to sell mantles in a booth. +If your cloak were worth the spoil of three castles I +would not now carry it from the bush. Come forth +from your bathing, fair friend, and clothe yourself in +your vesture, for you have to say a certain word to +me."</p> + +<p>"I will not trust myself to your hand, for you might +seize upon me," answered the lady, "and I tell you +frankly that I put no faith in your word, nor have had +any dealings with your school."</p> + +<p>Then Graelent answered still more merrily, +"Lady, needs must I suffer your wrath. But at +least I will guard your raiment till you come forth +from the well and, fairest, very dainty is your body in +my eyes."</p> + +<p>When the lady knew that Graelent would not depart, +nor render again her raiment, then she demanded surety +that he would do her no hurt. This thing was accorded +between them, so she came forth from the fountain, +and did her vesture upon her. Then Graelent took her +gently by the left hand, and prayed and required of her +that she would grant him love for love. But the lady +answered, +"I marvel greatly that you should dare to speak to +me in this fashion, for I have little reason to think you +discreet. You are bold, sir knight, and overbold, to +seek to ally yourself with a woman of my lineage."</p> + +<p>Sir Graelent was not abashed by the dame's proud +spirit, but wooed and prayed her gently and sweetly, +promising that if she granted him her love he would +serve her in all loyalty, and never depart therefrom all +the days of his life. The demoiselle hearkened to the +words of Graelent, and saw plainly that he was a valiant +knight, courteous and wise. She thought within herself +that should she send him from her, never might she +find again so sure a friend. Since, then, she knew him +worthy of her love, she kissed him softly, and spoke to +him in this manner, +"Graelent, I will love you none the less truly, though +we have not met until this day. But one thing is needful +that our love may endure. Never must you speak a +word by which this hidden thing may become known. +I will furnish you with deniers in your purse, with cloth +of silk, with silver and with gold. Night and day will +I stay with you, and great shall be the love between us +twain. You shall see me riding at your side; you may +talk and laugh with me at your pleasure, but I must +never be seen of your comrades, nor must they know +aught concerning your bride. Graelent, you are loyal, +brave, and courteous, and comely enough to the view. +For you I spread my snare at the fountain; for you +shall I suffer heavy pains, as well I knew before I set +forth on this adventure. Now must I trust to your +discretion, for if you speak vainly and boastfully of +this thing then am I undone. Remain now for a year +in this country, which shall be for you a home that your +lady loves well. But noon is past, and it is time for you +to go. Farewell, and a messenger shortly shall tell you +that which I would have you do."</p> + +<p>Graelent took leave of the lady, and she sweetly +clasped and kissed him farewell. He returned to his +lodging, dismounted from his steed, and entering within +a chamber, leaned from the casement, considering this +strange adventure. Looking towards the forest he saw +a varlet issue therefrom riding upon a palfrey. He drew +rein before Graelent's door, and taking his feet from the +stirrup, saluted the knight. So Graelent inquired +from whence he rode, and of his name and business.</p> + +<p>"Sir," answered he, "I am the messenger of your +lady. She sends you this destrier by my hand, and would +have me enter in your service, to pay your servitors their +wages and to take charge of your lodging."</p> + +<p>When Graelent heard this message he thought it +both good and fair. He kissed the varlet upon the +cheek, and accepting his gift, caused the destrier—which +was the noblest, the swiftest and the most speedy +under the sun—to be led to the stable. Then the varlet +carried his baggage to his master's chamber, and took +therefrom a large cushion and a rich coverlet which he +spread upon the couch. After this he drew thereout a +purse containing much gold and silver, and stout cloth +fitting for the knight's apparel. Then he sent for the +host, and paying him what was owing, called upon him +to witness that he was recompensed most largely for +the lodging. He bade him also to seek out such knights +as should pass through the town to refresh and solace +themselves in the company of his lord. The host was +a worthy man. He made ready a plenteous dinner, +and inquired through the town for such poor knights as +were in misease by reason of prison or of war. These he +brought to the hostelry of Sir Graelent, and comforted +them with instruments of music, and with all manner +of mirth. Amongst them sat Graelent at meat, gay and +debonair, and richly apparelled. Moreover, to these +poor knights and the harpers Graelent gave goodly +gifts, so that there was not a citizen in all the town +who did not hold him in great worship, and regard him +as his lord.</p> + +<p>From this moment Graelent lived greatly at his ease, +for not a cloud was in his sky. His lady came at will +and pleasure; all day long they laughed and played +together, and at night she lay softly at his side. What +truer happiness might he know than this? Often, +besides, he rode to such tournaments of the land as he +was able, and all men esteemed him for a stout and worthy +knight. Very pleasant were his days, and his love, and +if such things might last for ever he had nothing else +to ask of life.</p> + +<p>When a full year had passed by, the season drew to +the Feast of Pentecost. Now it was the custom of the +King to summon at that tide his barons and all who +held their fiefs of him to his Court for a rich banquet. +Amongst these lords was bidden Sir Graelent. After +men had eaten and drunk the whole day, and all were +merry, the King commanded the Queen to put off her +royal robes, and to stand forth upon the dais. Then he +boasted before the company,</p> + +<p>"Lord barons, how seems it to you? Beneath the +sky is there a lovelier Queen than mine, be she maid, +lady or demoiselle?"</p> + +<p>So all the lords made haste to praise the Queen, and +to cry and affirm that in all the world was neither maid +nor wife so dainty, fresh and fair. Not a single voice +but bragged of her beauty, save only that of Graelent. +He smiled at their folly, for his heart remembered his +friend, and he held in pity all those who so greatly +rejoiced in the Queen. So he sat with covered head, +and with face bent smiling to the board. The Queen +marked his discourtesy, and drew thereto the notice +of the King.</p> + +<p>"Sire, do you observe this dishonour! Not one of +these mighty lords but has praised the beauty of your +wife, save Graelent only, who makes a mock of her. +Always has he held me in envy and despite."</p> + +<p>The King commanded Graelent to his throne, and +in the hearing of all bade the knight to tell, on his faith +as vassal to his liege, for what reason he had hid his +face and laughed.</p> + +<p>"Sire," answered Graelent to the King, "Sire, +hearken to my words. In all the world no man of your +lineage does so shameful a deed as this. You make +your wife a show upon a stage. You force your lords +to praise her just with lies, saying that the sun does +not shine upon her peer. One man will tell the truth to +your face, and say that very easily can be found a fairer +dame than she."</p> + +<p>Right heavy was the King when he heard these words. +He conjured Graelent to tell him straightly if he knew +a daintier dame.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Sire, and thirty times more gracious than the +Queen."</p> + +<p>The Queen was marvellously wrathful to hear this +thing, and prayed her husband of his grace to compel +the knight to bring that woman to the Court of whose +beauty he made so proud a boast.</p> + +<p>"Set us side by side, and let the choice be made +between us. Should she prove the fairer let him go in +peace; but if not, let justice be done on him for his +calumny and malice."</p> + +<p>So the King bade his guards to lay hands on Graelent, +swearing that between them never should be love nor +peace, nor should the knight issue forth from prison, +until he had brought before him her whose beauty he +had praised so much.</p> + +<p>Graelent was held a captive. He repented him of +his hasty words, and begged the King to grant him +respite. He feared to have lost his friend, and sweated +grievously with rage and mortification. But though +many of the King's house pitied him in his evil case, +the long days brought him no relief, until a full year +went by, and once again the King made a great banquet +to his barons and his lieges. Then was Graelent brought +to hall, and put to liberty on such terms that he would +return bringing with him her whose loveliness he had +praised before the King. Should she prove so desirable +and dear, as his boast, then all would be well, for he +had naught to fear. But if he returned without his +lady, then he must go to judgment, and his only hope +would be in the mercy of the King.</p> + +<p>Graelent mounted his good horse, and parted from +the Court sad and wrathful. He sought his lodging, +and inquired for his servant, but might not find him. +He called upon his friend, but the lady did not heed +his voice. Then Graelent gave way to despair, and +preferred death to life. He shut himself within his +chamber, crying upon his dear one for grace and mercy, +but from her he got neither speech nor comfort. So +seeing that his love had withdrawn herself from him +by reason of his grievous fault, he took no rest by night +or day, and held his life in utter despite. For a full year +he lived in this piteous case, so that it was marvellous +to those about him that he might endure his life.</p> + +<p>On the day appointed the sureties brought Graelent +where the King was set in hall with his lords. Then the +King inquired of Graelent where was now his friend.</p> + +<p>"Sire," answered the knight, "she is not here, for +in no wise might I find her. Now do with me according +to your will."</p> + +<p>"Sir Graelent," said the King, "very foully have +you spoken. You have slandered the Queen, and given +all my lords the lie. When you go from my hands +never will you do more mischief with your tongue."</p> + +<p>Then the King spoke with a high voice to his barons.</p> + +<p>"Lords, I pray and command you to give judgment +in this matter. You heard the blame that Graelent set +upon me before all my Court. You know the deep +dishonour that he fastened on the Queen. How may +such a disloyal vassal deal honestly with his lord, for +as the proverb tells, 'Hope not for friendship from the +man who beats your dog!'"</p> + +<p>The lords of the King's household went out from before +him, and gathered themselves together to consider +their judgment. They kept silence for a great space, +for it was grievous to them to deal harshly with so +valiant a knight. Whilst they thus refrained from words +a certain page hastened unto them, and prayed them not +to press the matter, for (said he) "even now two young +maidens, the freshest maids in all the realm, seek the +Court. Perchance they bring succour to the good +knight, and, so it be the will of God, may deliver him +from peril." So the lords waited right gladly, and +presently they saw two damsels come riding to the +palace. Very young were these maidens, very slender +and gracious, and daintily cloaked in two fair mantles. +So when the pages had hastened to hold their stirrup +and bridle, the maidens dismounted from their palfreys +and entering within the hall came straight before the +King.</p> + +<p>"Sire," said one of the two damsels, "hearken now +to me. My lady commands us to pray you to put back +this cause for a while, nor to deliver judgment therein, +since she comes to plead with you for the deliverance +of this knight."</p> + +<p>When the Queen heard this message she was filled +with shame, and made speed to get her from the hall +Hardly had she gone than there entered two other +damsels, whiter and more sweetly flushed even than their +fellows. These bade the King to wait for a little, +since their mistress was now at hand. So all men stared +upon them, and praised their great beauty, saying that +if the maid was so fair, what then must be the loveliness +of the dame. When, therefore, the demoiselle came +in her turn, the King's household stood upon their feet +to give her greeting. Never did woman show so queenly +to men's sight as did this lady riding to the hall. Passing +sweet she was to see, passing simple and gracious of +manner, with softer eyes and a daintier face than girl +of mother born. The whole Court marvelled at her +beauty, for no spot or blemish might be found in her +body. She was richly dressed in a kirtle of vermeil silk, +broidered with gold, and her mantle was worth the spoil +of a king's castle. Her palfrey was of good race, and +speedy; the harness and trappings upon him were +worth a thousand livres in minted coin. All men pressed +about her, praising her face and person, her simplicity +and queenlihead. She came at slow pace before the +King, and dismounting from the palfrey, spoke very +courteously in this fashion.</p> + +<p>"Sire," said she, "hearken to me, and you, lord +barons, give heed to my pleading. You know the words +Graelent spake to the King, in the ears of men, when +the Queen made herself a show before the lords, saying +that often had he seen a fairer lady. Very hasty and +foolish was his tongue, since he provoked the King to +anger. But at least he told the truth when he said that +there is no dame so comely but that very easily may be +found one more sweet than she. Look now boldly upon +my face, and judge you rightly in this quarrel between +the Queen and me. So shall Sir Graelent be acquitted +of this blame."</p> + +<p>Then gazing upon her, all the King's household, lord +and lackey, prince and page, cried with one voice that +her favour was greater than that of the Queen. The +King himself gave judgment with his barons that this +thing was so; therefore Sir Graelent was acquitted of +his blame, and declared a free man.</p> + +<p>When judgment was given the lady took her leave of +the King, and attended by her four damsels departed +straightway from the hall upon her palfrey. Sir Graelent +caused his white horse to be saddled, and mounting, +followed hotly after her through the town. Day after +day he rode in her track, pleading for pity and pardon, +but she gave him neither good words nor bad in answer. +So far they fared that at last they came to the forest, +and taking their way through a deep wood rode to the +bank of a fair, clear stream. The lady set her palfrey +to the river, but when she saw that Graelent also would +enter therein she cried to him,</p> + +<p>"Stay, Graelent, the stream is deep, and it is death +for you to follow."</p> + +<p>Graelent took no heed to her words, but forced his +horse to enter the river, so that speedily the waters +closed above his head. Then the lady seized his bridle, +and with extreme toil brought horse and rider back +again to land.</p> + +<p>"Graelent," said she, "you may not pass this river, +however mightily you pain yourself, therefore must you +remain alone on this bank."</p> + +<p>Again the lady set her palfrey to the river, but Graelent +could not suffer to see her go upon her way alone. +Again he forced his horse to enter the water; but the +current was very swift and the stream was very deep, +so that presently Graelent was torn from his saddle, +and being borne away by the stream came very nigh to +drown. When the four maidens saw his piteous plight +they cried aloud to their lady, and said,</p> + +<p>"Lady, for the love of God, take pity on your poor +friend. See, how he drowns in this evil case. Alas, +cursed be the day you spake soft words in his ear, and +gave him the grace of your love. Lady, look how the +current hurries him to his death. How may your heart +suffer him to drown whom you have held so close! +Aid him, nor have the sin on your soul that you endured +to let the man who loved you die without your help."</p> + +<p>When the lady heard the complaint of her maidens, +no longer could she hide the pity she felt in her heart. +In all haste she turned her palfrey to the river, and +entering the stream clutched her lover by the belt. +Thus they won together to the bank. There she stripped +the drowned man of his raiment, and wrapping him +fast in her own dry mantle cherished him so meetly +that presently he came again to life. So she brought +him safely into her own land, and none has met Sir +Graelent since that day.</p> + +<p>But the Breton folk still hold firmly that Graelent +yet liveth with his friend. His destrier, when he escaped +him from the perilous river, grieved greatly for his +master's loss. He sought again the mighty forest, yet +never was at rest by night or day. No peace might he +find, but ever pawed he with his hoofs upon the ground, +and neighed so loudly that the noise went through all +the country round about. Many a man coveted so +noble a steed, and sought to put bit and bridle in his +mouth, yet never might one set hands upon him, for +he would not suffer another master. So each year in +its season the forest was filled with the cry and the trouble +of this noble horse which might not find its lord.</p> + +<p>This adventure of the good steed and of the stout +knight, who went to the land of faery with his love, was +noised abroad throughout all Brittany, and the Bretons +made a Lay thereof which was sung in the ears of many +people, and was called a Lay of the Death of Sir +Graelent.</p> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="XVI"></a><h2>XVI</h2> + +<p>A STORY OF BEYOND THE SEA</p> +<br> + +<p>In times gone by there lived a Count of Ponthieu, who +loved chivalry and the pleasures of the world beyond +measure, and moreover was a stout knight and a gallant +gentleman. In the self-same day there lived a Count +of St. Pol, who was lord of much land, and a right worthy +man. One grief he had, that there was no heir of his +body; but a sister was his, a prudent woman and a +passing good gentlewoman, who was dame of Dommare +in Ponthieu. This lady had a son, Thibault by name, +who was heir to this County of St. Pol, but he was a +poor man so long as his uncle lived. He was a prudent +knight, valiant and skilled with the spear, noble and +fair. Greatly was he loved and honoured of all honest +people, for he was of high race and gentle birth.</p> + +<p>The Count of Ponthieu, of whom the tale hath spoken, +had to wife a very worthy lady. He and his dame had +but one child, a daughter, very good and gracious, who +increased with her days in favour and in virtues; and +the maid was of some sixteen years. The third year after +her birth her mother died, whereof she was sorely +troubled and right heavy. The Count, her father, took +to himself another wife with no long tarrying, a dame +of gentle race and breeding. Of this lady he got him +quickly a son; very near was the boy to his father's +heart. The lad grew with his years in stature and in +valour, and gave promise to increase in all good qualities.</p> + +<p>The Count of Ponthieu marked my lord Thibault of +Dommare. He summoned the knight to his castle, +and made him of his house for guerdon. When Sir +Thibault was of his fellowship he rejoiced greatly, for +the Count prospered in goods and in praise by reason +of his servant's deeds. As they came from a tournament +on a day, the Count and my lord Thibault together, +the Count required of his companion and said,</p> + +<p>"Thibault, by the aid of God tell me truly which +jewel of my crown shines the fairest in your eyes!"</p> + +<p>"Sir," replied Messire Thibault, "I am only a beggar, +but so help me God, of all the jewels in your crown I +love and covet none, save only my demoiselle, your +daughter."</p> + +<p>When he heard this thing the Count had great content. +He laughed in his heart and said,</p> + +<p>"Thibault, I will grant her to the beggar, if it be to +her mind."</p> + +<p>"Sir," answered he, "thanks and gramercy. May +God make it up to you."</p> + +<p>Then went the Count to his daughter, and said,</p> + +<p>"Fair daughter, I have promised you in marriage, +so it go not against your heart."</p> + +<p>"Sir," inquired the maid, "to whom?"</p> + +<p>"In the name of God, to a loyal man, and a true +man, of whom much is hoped; to a knight of my own +household, Thibault of Dommare."</p> + +<p>"Dear sir," answered the maiden sweetly, "if your +county were a kingdom, and I were the king's only +child, I would choose him as my husband, and gladly +give him all that I had."</p> + +<p>"Daughter," said the Count, "blessed be your pretty +person, and the hour that you were born."</p> + +<p>Thus was this marriage made. The Count of Ponthieu +and the Count of St. Pol were at the feast, and many +another honourable man besides. Great was the joy +in which they met, fair was the worship, and marvellous +the delight. The bride and groom lived together in all +happiness for five years. This was their only sorrow, +that it pleased not our Lord Jesus Christ that they +should have an heir to their flesh.</p> + +<p>On a night Sir Thibault lay in his bed. He considered +within himself and said,</p> + +<p>"Lord, whence cometh it that I love this dame so +fondly, and she me, yet we may have no heir of our +bodies to serve God and to do a little good in the world?"</p> + +<p>Then he remembered my lord St. James, the Apostle +of Spain, who gives to the fervent supplicant that which +rightly he desires. Earnestly, to his own heart, he +promised that he would walk a pilgrim in his way. +His wife lay sleeping at his side, but when she came from +out her sleep, he took her softly in his arms, and required +of her that she would bestow on him a gift.</p> + +<p>"Sir," said the lady, "what gift would you +have?"</p> + +<p>"Wife," he made answer, "that you shall know when +it is mine."</p> + +<p>"Husband," said she, "if it be mine to grant, I will +give it you, whatever the price."</p> + +<p>"Wife," he said, "I pray you to grant me leave to +seek my lord St. James the Apostle, that he may intercede +with our Lord Jesus Christ to bestow on us an heir +of our flesh, whereby God may be served in this world +and Holy Church glorified."</p> + +<p>"Sir," cried the lady, "sweet and dear it is that you +should crave such bounty, and I grant the permission +you desire right willingly."</p> + +<p>Deep and long was the tenderness that fell betwixt +these twain. Thus passed a day, and another day, and +yet a third. On this third day it chanced that they lay +together in their bed, and it was night. Then said the +dame,</p> + +<p>"Husband, I pray and require of you a gift."</p> + +<p>"Wife," he replied, "ask, and I will give it you, if +by any means I can."</p> + +<p>"Husband," she said, "I require leave to come with +you on this errand and journey."</p> + +<p>When Messire Thibault heard this thing he was right +sorrowful, and said,</p> + +<p>"Wife, grievous would be the journey to your body, +for the way is very long, and the land right strange and +perilous."</p> + +<p>Said she,</p> + +<p>"Husband, be not in doubt because of me. You +shall be more hindered of your squire than of your wife."</p> + +<p>"Dame," said he, "as God wills and as you wish."</p> + +<p>The days went, and these tidings were so noised +abroad that the Count of Ponthieu heard thereof. He +commanded my lord Sir Thibault to his house, and said,</p> + +<p>"Thibault, you are a vowed pilgrim, as I hear, and +my daughter too!"</p> + +<p>"Sir," answered he, "that is verily and truly so."</p> + +<p>"Thibault," replied the Count, "as to yourself what +pleases you is to my mind also, but concerning my +daughter that is another matter."</p> + +<p>"Sir," made answer Sir Thibault, "go she must, and +I cannot deny her."</p> + +<p>"Since this is so," said the Count, "part when you +will. Make ready for the road your steeds, your palfreys, +and the pack horses, and I will give you riches and gear +enough for the journey."</p> + +<p>"Sir," said Messire Thibault, "thanks and gramercy."</p> + +<p>Thus these pilgrims arrayed them, and sought that +shrine with marvellous joy. They fared so speedily +upon the way, that at length they came near to my +lord St. James, by less than two days faring. That +night they drew to a goodly town. After they had eaten +in the hostel, Sir Thibault called for the host and inquired +of him the road for the morrow, how it ran, and whether +it were smooth.</p> + +<p>"Fair sir," replied the innkeeper to the knight, "at +the gate of this town you will find a little wood. Beyond +the wood a strong smooth road runs for the whole day's +journey."</p> + +<p>Hearing this they asked no more questions, but the +beds being laid down, they went to their rest. The +morrow broke full sweetly. The pilgrims rose lightly +from their beds as soon as it was day, and made much +stir and merriment. Sir Thibault rose also, since he +might not sleep, but his head was heavy. He therefore +called his chamberlain, and said,</p> + +<p>"Rise quickly, and bid the company to pack the +horses and go their way. Thou shalt remain with me, +and make ready our harness, for I am a little heavy +and disquieted."</p> + +<p>The chamberlain made known to the sergeants the +pleasure of their lord, so that presently they took the +road. In no great while Messire Thibault and his dame +got them from the bed, and arraying their persons, +followed after their household. The chamberlain folded +the bed linen, and it was yet but dawn, though warm +and fair. The three went forth through the gate of +the city, those three together, with no other companion +save God alone, and drew near to the forest. When they +came close they found two roads, the one good, the +other ill; so that Sir Thibault said to his chamberlain,</p> + +<p>"Put spurs to your horse, and ride swiftly after our +people. Bid them await our coming, for foul it is for +lady and knight to pass through this wood with so +little company."</p> + +<p>The servitor went speedily, and Messire Thibault +entered the forest. He drew rein beside the two roads, +for he knew not which to follow.</p> + +<p>"Wife," he said, "which way is ours?"</p> + +<p>"Please God, the good," she answered.</p> + +<p>Now in this wood were robbers, who spoiled the fair +way, and made wide and smooth the false, so that +pilgrims should mistake and wander from the path. +Messire Thibault lighted from his horse. He looked +from one to the other, and finding the wrong way +broader and more smooth than the true, he cried,</p> + +<p>"Wife, come now; in the name of God, this."</p> + +<p>They had proceeded along this road for some quarter +of a mile when the path grew strict and narrow, and +boughs made dark the way.</p> + +<p>"Wife," said the knight, "I fear that we fare but ill."</p> + +<p>When he had thus spoken he looked before him, +and marked four armed thieves, seated on four strong +horses, and each bore lance in hand. Thereupon he +glanced behind him, and, lo, four other robbers, armed +and set in ambush, so he said,</p> + +<p>"Dame, be not affrighted of aught that you may see +from now."</p> + +<p>Right courteously Sir Thibault saluted the robbers in +his path, but they gave no answer to his greeting. +Afterwards he sought of them what was in their mind, +and one replied that he should know anon. The thief, +who had thus spoken, drew towards my lord Thibault, +with outstretched sword, thinking to smite him in the +middle. Messire Thibault saw the blow about to fall, +and it was no marvel if he feared greatly. He sprang +forward nimbly, as best he might, so that the glaive +smote the air. Then as the robber staggered by, Sir +Thibault seized him fiercely, and wrested the sword from +his hand. The knight advanced stoutly against those +three from whom the thief had come. He struck the +foremost amidst the bowels, so that he perished miserably. +Then he turned and went again to that one who had +first come against him with the sword, and slew him also. +Now it was decreed of God that after the knight had +slain three of this company of robbers, that the five +who were left, encompassed him round about, and +killed his palfrey. Sir Thibault tumbled flat upon his +back, although he was not wounded to his hurt. Since +he had neither sword nor other harness he could do no +more. The thieves therefore stripped him to his very +shirt, his boots and hosen, and binding him hand and foot +with a baldrick, cast him into a thorn bush, right thick +and sharp. When they had done this they hastened to +the lady. From her they took her palfrey and her vesture, +even to the shift. Passing fair was the lady; she +wept full piteously, and never was dame more sorrowful +than she. Now one of these bold robbers stared upon +the lady, and saw that she was very fair. He spoke to +his companions in this fashion,</p> + +<p>"Comrades, I have lost my brother in this broil. I +will take this woman for his blood money."</p> + +<p>But the others made answer,</p> + +<p>"I, too, have lost my kin. I claim as much as you, +and my right is good as yours."</p> + +<p>So said a third, and a fourth, and a fifth. Then spake +yet another.</p> + +<p>"In keeping of the lady will be found neither peace +nor profit. Rather let us lead her from here within the +forest, there do our pleasure upon her, and then put her +again upon the path, so that she may go her way."</p> + +<p>Thus they did as they had devised together, and left +her on the road.</p> + +<p>Right sick at heart was Messire Thibault when he saw +her so entreated, but nothing could he do. He bore no +malice against his wife by reason of that which had +befallen, for well he knew that it, was by force, and not +according to her will. When he saw her again, weeping +bitterly and altogether shamed, he called to her, and +said,</p> + +<p>"Wife, for God's love unloose me from these bonds, and +deliver me from the torment that I suffer, for these +thorns are sharper than I can endure."</p> + +<p>The lady hastened to the place where Sir Thibault +lay, and marked a sword flung behind the bush, belonging +to one of those felons that were slain. She took +the glaive, and went towards her lord, filled full of +wrath and evil thoughts because of what had chanced +to her. She feared greatly lest her husband should +bear malice for that which he had seen, reproaching +her upon a day, and taunting her for what was past. +She said,</p> + +<p>"Sir, you are out of your pain already."</p> + +<p>She raised the sword, and came towards her husband, +thinking to strike him midmost the body. When he +marked the falling glaive he deemed that his day had +come, for he was a naked man, clad in nought but his +shirt and hosen. He trembled so sorely that his bonds +were loosed, and the lady struck so feebly that she +wounded him but little, severing that baldrick with +which his hands were made fast. Thereat the knight +brake the cords about his legs, and leaping upon his +feet, cried, +"Dame, by the grace of God it is not to-day that you +shall slay me with the sword."</p> + +<p>Then she made answer, +"Truly, sir, the sorer grief is mine."</p> + +<p>Sir Thibault took the sword, and set it again in the +sheath, afterwards he put his hand upon the lady's +shoulder, and brought her back by the path they had +fared. At the fringe of the woodland he found a large +part of his fellowship, who were come to meet him. When +these saw their lord and lady so spoiled and disarrayed +they inquired of them, +"Sir, who hath put you in this case?"</p> + +<p>He set them by, saying that they had fallen amongst +felons who had done them much mischief.</p> + +<p>Mightily the sergeants lamented; but presently they +fetched raiment from the packs, and arrayed them, for +enough they had and to spare. So they climbed into +the saddle, and continued their journey.</p> + +<p>They rode that day, nor for aught that had chanced +did Messire Thibault show sourer countenance to the +lady. At nightfall they came to a goodly town, and +there took shelter in an inn. Messire Thibault sought +of his host if there was any convent of nuns in those +parts where a lady might repose her. The host made +answer to him,</p> + +<p>"Sir, you are served to your wish. Just beyond the walls +is a right fair religious house, with many holy women."</p> + +<p>On the morrow Messire Thibault went to this house, and +heard Mass. Afterwards he spoke to the Abbess and her +chapter, praying that he might leave his lady in their +charge, until his return; and this they accorded very +willingly. Messire Thibault bestowed the lady in this +convent, with certain of his house to do her service, +and went his way to bring his pilgrimage to a fair end. +When he had knelt before the shrine, and honoured the +Saint, he came again to the convent and the lady. He +gave freely of his wealth to the house, and taking to +himself his wife, returned with her to their own land, in the +same joy and honour as he had brought her forth, save +only that they lay not together.</p> + +<p>Great was the gladness of the folk of that realm when +Sir Thibault returned to his home. The Count of +Ponthieu, the father of his wife was there, and there, too, +was his uncle the Count of St. Pol. Many worthy and +valiant gentlemen came for his welcome, and a fair company +of dames and maidens likewise honoured the lady. +That day the Count of Ponthieu sat at meat with my +lord Thibault, and ate from the same dish, the two +together. Then it happed that the Count spake to +him,</p> + +<p>"Thibault, fair son, he who journeys far hears many +a strange matter and sees many strange sights, which +are hidden from those who sit over the fire. Tell me +therefore, of your favour, something of all you have seen +and heard since you went from amongst us."</p> + +<p>Messire Thibault answered shortly that he knew no tale +worth the telling. The Count would take no denial, +but plagued him so sorely, begging him of his courtesy +to tell over some adventure, that at the last he was +overborne.</p> + +<p>"Sir, I will narrate a story, since talk I must; but +at least let it be in your private ear, if you please, and +not for the mirth of all."</p> + +<p>The Count replied that his pleasure was the same. +After meat, when men had eaten their fill, the Count +rose in his chair, and taking my lord Thibault by the +hand, entreated,</p> + +<p>"Tell me now, I pray, that which it pleases you to +tell, for there are few of the household left in hall."</p> + +<p>Then Messire Thibault began to relate that which +chanced to a knight and a dame, even as it has been +rehearsed before you in this tale; only he named not +the persons to whom this lot was appointed. The +Count, who was wise and sober of counsel, inquired +what the knight had done with the lady. Thibault +made answer that the knight had brought the lady +back by the way she went, with the same joy and +worship as he led her forth, save only that they slept +not together.</p> + +<p>"Thibault," said the Count, "your knight walked +another road than I had trod. By my faith in God and +my love for you, I had hanged this dame by her tresses +to a tree. The laces of her gown would suffice if I could +find no other cord."</p> + +<p>"Sir," said Messire Thibault, "you have but my +word. The truth can only be assured if the lady might +bear witness and testify with her own mouth."</p> + +<p>"Thibault," said the Count, "know you the name +of this knight?"</p> + +<p>"Sir," cried Messire Thibault, "I beg you again to +exempt me from naming the knight to whom this +sorrow befell. Know of a truth that his name will +bring no profit."</p> + +<p>"Thibault," said the Count, "it is my pleasure that +his name should not be hid."</p> + +<p>"Sir," answered Thibault, "tell I must, as you will +not acquit me; but I take you to witness that I speak +only under compulsion, since gladly I would have kept +silence, had this been your pleasure, for in the telling +there is neither worship nor honour."</p> + +<p>"Thibault," replied the Count, "without more words +I would know forthwith who was the knight to whom +this adventure chanced. By the faith that you owe +to your God and to me, I conjure you to tell me his +name, since it is in your mind."</p> + +<p>"Sir," replied Messire Thibault, "I will answer by +the faith I owe my God and you, since you lay this +charge upon me. Know well, and be persuaded, that +I am the knight on whom this sorrow lighted. Hold +it for truth that I was sorely troubled and sick of heart. +Be assured that never before have I spoken to any living +man about the business, and moreover that gladly +would I have held my peace, had such been your will."</p> + +<p>When the Count heard this adventure he was sore +astonied, and altogether cast down. He kept silence +for a great space, speaking never a word. At the last +he said, +"Thibault, was it indeed my child who did this +thing?"</p> + +<p>"Sir, it is verily and truly so."</p> + +<p>"Thibault," said the Count, "sweet shall be your +vengeance, since you have given her again to my hand."</p> + +<p>Because of his exceeding wrath the Count sent straightway +for his daughter, and demanded of her if those +things were true of which Messire Thibault had spoken. +She inquired of the accusation, and her father answered, +"That you would have slain him with the sword, +even as he has told me?"</p> + +<p>"Sir, of a surety."</p> + +<p>"And wherefore would you slay your husband?"</p> + +<p>"Sir, for reason that I am yet heavy that he is not +dead."</p> + +<p>When the Count heard the lady speak in this fashion, he +answered her nothing, but suffered in silence until the +guests had departed. After these were gone, the Count +came on a day to Rue-sur-Mer, and Messire Thibault +with him, and the Count's son. With them also went +the lady. Then the Count caused a ship to be got +ready, very stout and speedy, and he made the dame +to enter in the boat. He set also on the ship an untouched +barrel, very high and strong. These three lords climbed +into the nave, with no other company, save those sailors +who should labour at the oar. The Count commanded +the mariners to put the ship to sea, and all marvelled +greatly as to what he purposed, but there was none so +bold as to ask him any questions. When they had rowed +a great way from the land, the Count bade them to +strike the head from out the barrel. He took that dame, +his own child, who was so dainty and so fair, and thrust +her in the tun, whether she would or whether she would +not. This being done he caused the cask to be made +fast again with staves and wood, so that the water +might in no manner enter therein. Afterwards he +dragged the barrel to the edge of the deck, and with +his own hand cast it into the sea, saying,</p> + +<p>"I commend thee to the wind and waves."</p> + +<p>Passing heavy was Messire Thibault at this, and the +lady's brother also, and all who saw. They fell at the +Count's feet, praying him of his grace that she might +be delivered from the barrel. So hot was his wrath +that he would not grant their prayer, for aught that they +might do or say. They therefore left him to his rage, +and turning to the Heavenly Father, besought our +Lord Jesus Christ that of His most sweet pity He would +have mercy on her soul, and give her pardon for her +sins.</p> + +<p>The ship came again to land, leaving the lady in sore +peril and trouble, even as the tale has told you. But +our Lord Jesus Christ, who is Lord and Father of all, +and desireth not the death of a sinner, but rather that +he should turn from his wickedness and live—as each +day He showeth us openly by deed, by example and by +miracle—sent succour to this lady, even as you shall +hear. For a ship from Flanders, laden with merchandise, +marked this barrel drifting at the mercy of winds and +waters, before ever the Count and his companions were +come ashore. One of the merchants said to his comrades,</p> + +<p>"Friends, behold a barrel drifting in our course. +If we may reach it, perchance we may find it to our gain."</p> + +<p>This ship was wont to traffic with the Saracens in +their country, so the sailors rowed towards the barrel, +and partly by cunning and partly by strength, at the +last got it safely upon the deck. The merchants looked +long at the cask. They wondered greatly what it could +be, and wondering, they saw that the head of the barrel +was newly closed. They opened the cask, and found +therein a woman at the point of death, for air had failed +her. Her body was gross, her visage swollen, and the +eyes started horribly from her head. When she breathed +the fresh air and felt the wind blow upon her, she sighed +a little, so that the merchants standing by, spoke comfortably +to her, but she might not answer them a word. +In the end, heart and speech came again to her. She +spoke to the chapmen and the sailors who pressed about +her, and much she marvelled how she found herself +amongst them. When she perceived that she was with +merchants and Christian men she was the more easy, +and fervently she praised Jesus Christ in her heart, +thanking Him for the loving kindness which had kept +her from death. For this lady was altogether contrite +in heart, and earnestly desired to amend her life towards +God, repenting the trespass she had done to others, +and fearing the judgment that was rightly her due. +The merchants inquired of the lady whence she came, +and she told them the truth, saying that she was a +miserable wretch and a poor sinner, as they could see +for themselves. She related the cruel adventure which +had chanced to her, and prayed them to take pity on +a most unhappy lady, and they answered that mercy +they would show. So with meat and drink her former +beauty came to her again.</p> + +<p>Now this merchant ship fared so far that she came to +the land of the Paynims, and cast anchor in the port +of Aumarie. Galleys of these Saracens came to know +their business, and they answered that they were +traffickers in divers merchandise in many a realm. +They showed them also the safe conduct they carried +of princes and mighty lords that they might pass in +safety through their countries to buy and sell their +goods. The merchants got them to land in this port, +taking the lady with them. They sought counsel one +of the other to know what it were best to do with her. +One was for selling her as a slave, but his companion +proposed to give her as a sop to the rich Soudan of +Aumarie, that their business should be the less hindered. +To this they all agreed. They arrayed the lady freshly +in broidered raiment, and carried her before the Soudan, +who was a lusty young man. He accepted their gift, +receiving the lady with a right glad heart, for she was +passing fair. The Soudan inquired of them as to who +she was.</p> + +<p>"Sire," answered the merchants, "we know no more +than you, but marvellous was the fashion in which she +came to our hands."</p> + +<p>The gift was so greatly to the Soudan's mind that he +served the chapmen to the utmost of his power. He +loved the lady very tenderly, and entreated her in all +honour. He held and tended her so well, that her sweet +colour came again to her, and her beauty increased +beyond measure. The Soudan sought to know by those +who had the gift of tongues as to the lady's home and +race, but these she would not reveal to any. He was +the more thoughtful therefore, because he might see +that she was a dame of birth and lineage. He inquired +of her as to whether she were a Christian woman, promising +that if she would deny her faith, he would take her +as his wife, since he was yet unwed. The lady saw +clearly that it were better to be converted by love than +perforce; so she answered that her religion was to do +her master's pleasure. When she had renounced her +faith, and rejected the Christian law, the Soudan made +her his dame according to the use and wont of this +country of the Paynim. He held her very dear, cherishing +her in all honour, for his love waxed deeper as the days +wore on.</p> + +<p>In due time it was with this lady after the manner +of women, and she came to bed of a son. The Soudan +rejoiced greatly, being altogether merry and content. +The lady, for her part, lived in fair fellowship with the +folk of her husband's realm. Very courteous was she, +and very serviceable, so that presently she was instructed +in the Saracen tongue. In no long while after the birth +of her son she conceived of a maid, who in the years +that befell grew passing sweet and fair, and richly was +she nurtured as became the daughter of so high a prince. +Thus for two years and a half the lady dwelt with the +Paynim in much softness and delight.</p> + +<p>Now the story keeps silence as to the lady and the +Soudan, her husband, till later, as you may hear, and +returns to the Count of Ponthieu, the son of the Count, +and to my lord Thibault of Dommare, who were left +grieving for the dame who was flung into the sea, as +you have heard, nor knew aught of her tidings, but +deemed that she were rather dead than alive. Now +tells the story—and the truth bears witness to itself +and is its own confirmation—that the Count was in +Ponthieu, together with his son, and Messire Thibault. +Very heavy was the Count, for in no wise could he get +his daughter from his mind, and grievously he lamented +the wrong that he had done her. Messire Thibault +dared not take to himself another wife, because of the +anguish of his friend. The son of the Count might not +wed also; neither durst he to become knight, though +he was come to an age when such things are greatly to +a young man's mind.</p> + +<p>On a day the Count considered deeply the sin that he +had committed against his own flesh. He sought the +Archbishop of Rheims in confession, and opened out +his grief, telling in his ear the crime that he had wrought. +He determined to seek those holy fields beyond the sea, +and sewed the Cross upon his mantle. When Messire +Thibault knew that his lord, the Count, had taken the +Cross, he confessed him, and did likewise. And when +the Count's son was assured of the purpose of his sire +and of Messire Thibault, whom he loved dearly, he took +the Cross with them. Passing heavy was the Count to +mark the Sign upon his son's raiment.</p> + +<p>"Fair son, what is this you have done; for now the +land remains without a lord!"</p> + +<p>The son answered, and said, +"Father, I wear the Sign first and foremost for the +love of God; afterwards for the saving of my soul, and +by reason that I would serve and honour Him to the +utmost of my power, so long as I have life in my body."</p> + +<p>The Count put his realm in ward full wisely. He +used diligence in making all things ready, and bade +farewell to his friends. Messire Thibault and the son +of the Count ordered their business, and the three set +forth together, with a fair company. They came to +that holy land beyond the sea, safe of person and of +gear. There they made devout pilgrimage to every +place where they were persuaded it was meet to go, +and God might be served. When the Count had done +all that he was able, he deemed that there was yet one +thing to do. He gave himself and his fellowship to the +service of the Temple for one year; and at the end of +this term he purposed to seek his country and his home. +He sent to Acre, and made ready a ship against his +voyage. He took his leave of the Knights Templar, +and other lords of that land, and greatly they praised +him for the worship that he had brought them. When +the Count and his company were come to Acre they +entered in the ship, and departed from the haven with +a fair wind. But little was their solace. For when they +drew to the open sea a strong and horrible tempest +sprang suddenly upon them, so that the sailors knew +not where they went, and feared each hour that all +would be drowned. So piteous was their plight that, +with ropes, they bound themselves one to another, the +son to the father, the uncle to the nephew, according +as they stood. The Count, his son, and Messire Thibault +for their part, fastened themselves together, so that the +same end should chance to all. In no long time after +this was done they saw land, and inquired of the shipmen +whither they were come. The mariners answered +that this realm belonged to the Paynim, and was called +the Land of Aumarie. They asked of the Count,</p> + +<p>"Sire, what is your will that we do? If we seek the +shore, doubtless we shall be made captives, and fall +into the hands of the Saracen."</p> + +<p>The Count made answer, +"Not my will, but the will of Jesus Christ be done. +Let the ship go as He thinks best. We will commit our +bodies and our lives to His good keeping, for a fouler +and an uglier death we cannot die, than to perish in +this sea."</p> + +<p>They drove with the wind along the coast of Aumarie, +and the galleys and warships of the Saracens put out +to meet them. Be assured that this was no fair meeting, +for the Paynims took them and led them before the +Soudan, who was lord of that realm. There they gave +him the goods and the bodies of these Christians as a +gift. The Soudan sundered this fair fellowship, setting +them in many places and in divers prisons; but since +the Count, his son, and Messire Thibault were so securely +bound together, he commanded that they should be +cast into a dungeon by themselves, and fed upon the +bread of affliction and the water of affliction. So it +was done, even as he commanded. In this prison they +lay for a space, till such time as the Count's son fell +sick. His sickness was so grievous that the Count and +Messire Thibault feared greatly that this sorrow was to +death.</p> + +<p>Now it came to pass that the Soudan held high Court +because of the day of his birth, for such was the custom +of the Saracens. After they had well eaten, the Saracens +stood before the Soudan, and said,</p> + +<p>"Sire, we require of you our right."</p> + +<p>He inquired of what right they were speaking, and +they answered,</p> + +<p>"Sire, a Christian captive to set as a mark for our +arrows."</p> + +<p>When the Soudan heard this he gave no thought to +such a trifle, but made reply,</p> + +<p>"Get you to the prison, and take out that captive +who has the least of life in him."</p> + +<p>The Paynim hastened to the dungeon, and brought +forth the Count, bearded, unkempt and foredone. The +Soudan marked his melancholy case, so he said to them, +"This man has not long to live; take him hence, and +do your will on him."</p> + +<p>The wife of the Soudan, of whom you have heard, the +daughter of this very Count, was in the hall, when they +brought forth her father to slay him. Immediately that +her eyes fell upon him the blood in her veins turned to +water; not so much that she knew him as her sire, but +rather that Nature tugged at her heart strings. Then +spake the dame to the Soudan, +"Husband, I, too, am French, and would gladly +speak with this poor wretch ere he die, if so I may."</p> + +<p>"Wife," answered the Soudan, "truly, yes; it +pleases me well."</p> + +<p>The lady came to the Count. She took him apart, +and bidding the Saracens fall back, she inquired of +him whence he was.</p> + +<p>"Lady, I am from the kingdom of France, of a +county that men call Ponthieu."</p> + +<p>When the lady heard this her bowels were moved. +Earnestly she demanded his name and race.</p> + +<p>"Of a truth, lady, I have long forgotten my father's +house, for I have suffered such pain and anguish since +I departed, that I would rather die than live. But +this you may know, that I—even the man who speaks +to you—was once the Count of Ponthieu."</p> + +<p>The lady hearkened to this, but yet she made no sign. +She went from the Count, and coming to the Soudan, +said,</p> + +<p>"Husband, give me this captive as a gift, if such +be your pleasure. He knows chess and draughts and +many fair tales to bring solace to the hearer. He shall +play before you, and we will make our pastime of his +skill."</p> + +<p>"Wife," answered the Soudan, "I grant him to you +very willingly; do with him as you wish."</p> + +<p>The lady took the captive, and bestowed him in her +chamber. The gaolers sought another in his stead, and +brought forth my lord Thibault, the husband to the +dame. He came out in tatters, for he was clothed +rather in his long hair and great beard, than in raiment. +His body was lean and bony, and he seemed as one who +had endured pain and sorrow enough, and to spare. +When the lady saw him she said to the Soudan,</p> + +<p>"Husband, with this one also would I gladly speak, +if so I may."</p> + +<p>"Wife," answered the Soudan, "it pleases me well."</p> + +<p>The lady came to my lord Thibault, and inquired +of him whence he was.</p> + +<p>"Lady, I am of the realm of that ancient gentleman +who was taken from prison before me. I had his daughter +to wife, and am his knight."</p> + +<p>The lady knew well her lord, so she returned to the +Soudan, and said to him, +"Husband, great kindness will you show me, if you +give me this captive also."</p> + +<p>"Wife," said the Soudan, "I grant him to you very +willingly."</p> + +<p>She thanked him sweetly, and bestowed the gift in +her chamber, with the other.</p> + +<p>The archers hastened together, and drawing before +the Soudan said, +"Sire, you do us wrong, for the day is far spent."</p> + +<p>They went straight to the prison, and brought forth +the son of the Count, shagged and filthy, as one who +had not known of water for many a day. He was a +young man, so young that his beard had not come on +him, but for all his youth he was so thin and sick and +weak, that he scarce could stand upon his feet. When +the lady saw him she had compassion upon him. She +came to him asking whose son he was and of his home, +and he replied that he was son to that gentleman, who +was first brought out of the dungeon. She knew well +that this was her brother, but she made herself strange +unto him.</p> + +<p>"Husband," said she to the Soudan, "verily you will +shew kindness to your wife beyond measure if you +grant me this captive. He knows chess and draughts +and other delights passing fair to see and hear."</p> + +<p>And the Soudan made answer, +"Wife, by our holy law if they were a hundred I +would give them all to you gladly."</p> + +<p>The lady thanked him tenderly, and bestowed the +captive swiftly in her chamber. The Saracens went again +to the prison and fetched out another, but the lady +left him to his fate, when she looked upon his face. So +he won a martyr's crown, and our Lord Jesus Christ +received his soul. As for the dame, she hid herself from +the sight, for it gave her little joy, this slaying of the +Christian by the Paynims.</p> + +<p>The lady came to her chamber, and at her coming the +captives would have got them to their feet, but she +made signs that they should remain seated. Drawing +close she made gestures of friendship. The Count, who +was very shrewd, asked at this, +"Lady, when will they slay us?"</p> + +<p>She answered that their time had not yet come.</p> + +<p>"Lady," said he, "the sorer grief is ours, for we are +so anhungered, that for a little our souls would leave +our bodies."</p> + +<p>The lady went out, and bade meat to be made ready. +This she carried in, giving to each a little, and to each a +little drink. When they had eaten, they had yet greater +hunger than before. In this manner she fed them, +little by little, ten times a day, for she deemed that +should they eat to their desire, they would die of repletion. +For this reason she caused them to break their +fast temperately. Thus the good lady dealt with them +for the first seven days, and at nights, by her grace, +they lay softly at their ease. She did away with their +rags, and clad them in seemly apparel. When the week +was done she set before them meat and drink to their +heart's desire, so that their strength returned to them +again. They had chess and draughts, and played these +games to their great content. The Soudan was often +with them. He watched the play, and took pleasure +in their gladness. But the lady refrained, so that none +might conceive, either by speech or fashion, that he +had known her before.</p> + +<p>Now a short while after this matter of the captives, +the story tells that the Soudan had business enough of +his own, for a mighty Sultan laid waste his realm, and +sought to do him much mischief. To avenge his wrong +the Soudan commanded his vassals from every place, +and assembled a great host. When the lady knew this, +she entered the chamber where the captives lay, and +sitting amidst them lifted her hand, and said, +"Sirs, you have told me somewhat of your business; +now will I be assured whether you are true men or not. +You told me that in your own land you were once the +Count of Ponthieu, that this man was wedded to your +daughter, and that this other was your son. Know +that I am a Saracen, having the science of astrology; +so I tell you plainly that you were never so near to a +shameful death, as you are now, if you hide from me +the truth. What chanced to your daughter, the wife +of this knight?"</p> + +<p>"Lady," replied the Count, "I deem her to be dead."</p> + +<p>"How came she to her death?"</p> + +<p>"Certes, lady," said the Count, "because for once +she received her deserts."</p> + +<p>"Tell me of these deservings," said the dame.</p> + +<p>Then the Count began to tell, with tears, of how she +was wedded, but was yet a barren wife; how the good +knight vowed pilgrimage to my lord St. James in +Galicia, and how the lady prayed that she might go +with him, which prayer he granted willingly. He told +how they went their way with joy, till alone, in the deep +wood, they met with sturdy felons who set upon them. +The good knight might do nothing against so many, +for he was a naked man; but despite of all, he slew three, +and five were left, who killed his palfrey, and spoiling +him to the very shirt, bound him hands and feet, and +flung him into a thorn bush. They spoiled the lady also +and stole her palfrey from her. When they looked upon +her, and saw that she was fair, each would have taken +her. Afterwards they accorded that she should be to +all, and having had their will in her despite, they departed +and left her weeping bitterly. This the good knight saw, +so he besought her courteously to unloose his hands, +that they might get them from the wood. But the lady +marked a sword belonging to one of these felons that +were slain. She handselled it, and hastening where he +lay, cried in furious fashion, "You are unbound already." +Then she raised the naked sword, and struck at his +body. But by the loving kindness of God, and the +vigour of the knight, she but sundered the bonds that +bound him, so that he sprang forth, and wounded as +he was, cried, +"Dame, by the grace of God it is not to-day that you +shall kill me with the sword."</p> + +<p>At this word that fair lady, the wife of the Soudan, +spoke suddenly, and said,</p> + +<p>"Ah, sir, you have told the tale honestly, and very +clear it is why she would have slain him."</p> + +<p>"For what reason, lady?"</p> + +<p>"Certes," answered she, "for reason of the great +shame which had befallen her."</p> + +<p>When Messire Thibault heard this he wept right +tenderly, and said, +"Alas, what part had she in this wickedness! May +God keep shut the doors of my prison if I had shown +her the sourer face therefore, seeing that her will was not +in the deed."</p> + +<p>"Sir," said the lady, "she feared your reproach. +But tell me which is the more likely, that she be alive +or dead?"</p> + +<p>"Lady," said Thibault, "we know not what to think."</p> + +<p>"Well I know," cried the Count, "of the great +anguish we have suffered, by reason of the sin I sinned +against her."</p> + +<p>"If it pleased God that she were yet living," inquired +the lady, "and tidings were brought which you could +not doubt, what would you have to say?"</p> + +<p>"Lady," said the Count, "I should be happier than +if I were taken from this prison, or were granted more +wealth than ever I have had in my life."</p> + +<p>"Lady," said Messire Thibault, "so God give me no +joy of my heart's dearest wish, if I had not more solace +than if men crowned me King of France."</p> + +<p>"Certes, lady," said the dansellon, who was her +brother, "none could give or promise me aught so +sweet, as the life of that sister, who was so fair and +good."</p> + +<p>When the lady hearkened to these words her heart +yearned with tenderness. She praised God, rendering +Him thanks, and said to them, +"Be sure that you speak with unfeigned lips."</p> + +<p>And they answered and said that they spoke with +unfeigned lips. Then the lady began to weep with happy +tears, and said to them, +"Sir, now may you truly say that you are my father, +for I am that daughter on whom you wrought such +bitter justice. And you, Messire Thibault, are my lord +and husband; and you, sir dansellon, are my brother."</p> + +<p>Then she rehearsed to them in what manner she was +found of the chapmen, and how they bestowed her as +a gift on the Soudan. They were very glad, and rejoiced +mightily, humbling themselves before her, but she +forbade them to show their mirth, saying, +"I am a Saracen, and have renounced the faith; +otherwise I should not be here, but were dead already. +Therefore I pray and beseech you as you love your lives +and would prolong your days, whatever you may see or +hear, not to show me any affection, but keep yourselves +strange to me, and leave me to unravel the coil. Now +I will tell why I have revealed myself to you. My +husband, the Soudan, rides presently to battle. I +know well, Messire Thibault, that you are a hardy +knight, and I will pray the Soudan to take you with +him. If ever you were brave, now is the time to make +it plain. See to it that you do him such service that he +have no grievance against you."</p> + +<p>The lady departed forthwith, and coming before the +Soudan, said, +"Husband, one of my captives desires greatly to go +with you, if such be your pleasure."</p> + +<p>"Wife," answered he, "I dare not put myself in his +hand, for fear that he may do me a mischief."</p> + +<p>"Husband, he will not dare to be false, since I hold +his companions as hostages."</p> + +<p>"Wife," said he, "I will take him with me, because +of your counsel, and I will deliver him a good horse and +harness, and all that warrior may require."</p> + +<p>The lady returned straightway to the chamber. She +said to Messire Thibault, +"I have persuaded the Soudan to bring you to the +battle. Act therefore manfully."</p> + +<p>At this her brother knelt at her knee, praying her to +plead with the Soudan that he might go also.</p> + +<p>"That I may not do," said she, "or the thing will +be too clear."</p> + +<p>The Soudan ordered his business, and went forth, +Messire Thibault being with him, and came upon the +enemy. According to his word, the Soudan had given +to the knight both horse and harness. By the will of +Jesus Christ, who faileth never such as have faith and +affiance in Him, Messire Thibault did such things in +arms that in a short space the enemies of the Soudan +were put under his feet. The Soudan rejoiced greatly +at his knight's deeds and his victory, and returned +bringing many captives with him. He went straight +to the dame, and said, +"Wife, by my law I have naught but good to tell +of your prisoner, for he has done me faithful service. +So he deny his faith, and receive our holy religion, I +will grant him broad lands, and find him a rich heiress +in marriage."</p> + +<p>"Husband, I know not, but I doubt if he will do this +thing."</p> + +<p>No more was spoken of the matter; but the lady set +her house in order, as best she was able, and coming +to her captives said, +"Sirs, go warily, so that the Saracens see nothing +of what is in our mind; for, please God, we shall yet +win to France and the county of Ponthieu."</p> + +<p>On a day the lady came before the Soudan. She +went in torment, and lamented very grievously.</p> + +<p>"Husband, it is with me as it was before. Well I +know it, for I have fallen into sore sickness, and my food +has no relish in my mouth, no, not since you went to +the battle."</p> + +<p>"Wife, I am right glad to hear that you are with +child, although your infirmity is very grievous unto +me. Consider and tell me those things that you deem will +be to your healing, and I will seek and procure them +whatever the cost."</p> + +<p>When the lady heard this, her heart beat lightly in +her breast. She showed no semblance of joy, save this +only, that she said, +"Husband, my old captive tells me that unless I +breathe for awhile such air as that of my native land, +and that quickly, I am but dead, for in nowise have I +long to live."</p> + +<p>"Wife," said the Soudan, "your death shall not be +on my conscience. Consider and show me where you +would go, and there I will cause you to be taken."</p> + +<p>"Husband, it is all one to me, so I be out of this +city."</p> + +<p>Then the Soudan made ready a ship, both fair and +strong, and garnished her plenteously with wines and +meats.</p> + +<p>"Husband," said the lady to the Soudan, "I will +take of my captives the aged and the young, that they +may play chess and draughts at my bidding, and I will +carry with me my son for my delight."</p> + +<p>"Wife," answered he, "your will is my pleasure. +But what shall be done with the third captive?"</p> + +<p>"Husband, deal with him after your desire."</p> + +<p>"Wife, I desire that you take him on the ship; for +he is a brave man, and will keep you well, both on +land and sea, if you have need of his sword."</p> + +<p>The lady took leave of the Soudan, bidding him farewell, +and urgently he prayed her to return so soon as +she was healed of her sickness. The stores being put +upon the ship and all things made ready, they entered +therein and set sail from the haven. With a fair +wind they went very swiftly, so that the shipmen +sought the lady, saying, +"Madam, this wind is driving the boat to Brindisi. +Is it your pleasure to take refuge there, or to go elsewhere?"</p> + +<p>"Let the ship keep boldly on her course," answered +the lady to them, "for I speak French featly and other +tongues also, so I will bring you to a good end."</p> + +<p>They made such swift passage by day and by night, +that according to the will of Our Lord they came quickly +to Brindisi. The ship cast anchor safely in the harbour, +and they lighted on the shore, being welcomed gladly +by the folk of that country. The lady, who was very +shrewd, drew her captives apart, and said, +"Sirs, I desire you to call to mind the pledge and +the covenant you have made. I must now be certain +that you are true men, remembering your oaths and +plighted words. I pray you to let me know, by all +that you deem of God, whether you will abide or not +by our covenant together; for it is yet not too late to +return to my home."</p> + +<p>They answered, +"Lady, know beyond question that the bargain we +have made we will carry out loyally. By our faith in +God and as christened men we will abide by this covenant; +so be in no doubt of our assurance."</p> + +<p>"I trust you wholly," replied the lady; "but, sirs, +see here my son, whom I had of the Soudan, what shall +we do with him?"</p> + +<p>"Lady, the boy is right welcome, and to great honour +shall he come in our own land."</p> + +<p>"Sirs," said the dame, "I have dealt mischievously +with the Soudan, for I have stolen my person from him, +and the son who was so dear to his heart."</p> + +<p>The lady went again to the shipmen, and lifting her +hand, said to them, +"Sirs, return to the Soudan whence you came, and +greet him with this message. Tell him that I have taken +from him my body and the son he loved so well, that I +might deliver my father, my lord, and my brother +from the prison where they were captive."</p> + +<p>When the sailors heard this they were very dolent, +but there was naught that they might do. They set +sail for their own country, sad and very heavy by reason +of the lady, of the young lad, whom they loved greatly, +and of the captives who were escaped altogether from +their hand.</p> + +<p>For his part the Count arrayed himself meetly by +grace of merchants and Templars, who lent him gladly +of their wealth. He abode in the town, together with +his fellowship, for their solace, till they made them ready +for the journey, and took the road to Rome. The Count +sought the Pontiff, and his company with him. Each +confessed him of the secrets of his heart, and when the +Bishop heard thereof, he accepted their devotion, and +comforted them right tenderly. He baptised the child, +who was named William. He reconciled the lady with +Holy Church, and confirmed the lady and Messire Thibault +her lord, in their marriage bond, reknitting them together, +giving penance to each, and absolution for their +sins. After this they made no long sojourn in Rome, +but took their leave of the Apostle who had honoured +them so greatly. He granted them his benison, and +commended them to God. So they went their way in +great solace and delight, praising God and His Mother, +and all the calendar of saints, and rendering thanks +for the mercies which had been vouchsafed to them. +Journeying thus they came at last to the country of +their birth, and were met by a fair procession of bishops +and abbots, monks and priests, who had desired them +fervently. But of all these welcomes they welcomed +most gladly her who was recovered from death, and had +delivered her sire, her lord, and her brother from the +hands of the Paynim, even as you have heard. There +we leave them for awhile, and will tell you of the +shipmen and Saracens who had fared with them across +the sea.</p> + +<p>The sailors and Saracens who had carried them to +Brindisi, returned as quickly as they were able, and +with a fair wind cast anchor before Aumarie. They +got them to land, very sad and heavy, and told their +tidings to the Soudan. +Right sorrowful was the Soudan, and neither for time +nor reason could he forget his grief. Because of this +mischief he loved that daughter the less who tarried +with him, and showed her the less courtesy. Nevertheless +the maiden increased in virtue and in wisdom, +so that the Paynim held her in love and honour, praising +her for the good that was known of her. But now the +story is silent as to that Soudan who was so tormented +by reason of the flight of his dame and captives; and +comes again to the Count of Ponthieu, who was welcomed +to his realm with such pomp and worship, as became a +lord of his degree.</p> + +<p>In no long while after his return the son of the Count +was dubbed knight, and rich was the feast. He became +a knight both chivalrous and brave. Greatly he loved +all honourable men, and gladly he bestowed fair gifts +on the poor knights and poor gentlewomen of the +country. Much was he esteemed of lord and hind, +for he was a worthy knight, generous, valiant and +debonair, proud only to his foes. Yet his days on earth +were but a span, which was the sorer pity, for he died +lamented of all.</p> + +<p>Now it befell that the Count held high Court, and +many a knight and lord sat with him at the feast. +Amongst these came a very noble man and knight, of +great place, in Normandy, named my lord Raoul des +Preaux. This Raoul had a daughter, passing sweet and +fair. The Count spoke so urgently to Raoul and to +the maiden's kin that a marriage was accorded between +William, his grandson, the son of the Soudan of Aumarie, +and the daughter of my lord Raoul, the heiress to all +his wealth. William wedded the damsel with every rich +observance, and in right of his wife this William became +Lord of Preaux.</p> + +<p>For a long while the realm had peace from its foes.</p> + +<p>Messire Thibault dwelt with the lady, and had of her +two sons, who in later days were worthy gentlemen of +great worship. The son of the Count of Ponthieu, of +whom we have spoken much and naught but good, died +shortly after, to the grief of all the land. The Count of +St. Pol was yet alive; therefore the two sons of my +lord Thibault were heirs to both these realms, and attained +thereto in the end. That devout lady, their mother, +because of her contrite heart, gave largely to the poor; +and Messire Thibault, like the honourable gentleman he +was, abounded in good works so long as he was quick.</p> + +<p>Now it chanced that the daughter of the lady, who +abode with the Soudan her father, increased greatly +in favour and in virtue. She was called The Fair +Captive, by reason that her mother had left her in the +Soudan's keeping, as you have heard. A certain brave +Turk in the service of the Soudan—Malakin of Baudas +by name—saw this damsel, so fair and gracious, and +desired her dearly in his heart, because of the good men +told of her. He came before his master, and said to +him,</p> + +<p>"Sire, in return for his labour your servant craves +a gift."</p> + +<p>"Malakin," returned the Soudan, "what gift would +you have?"</p> + +<p>"Sire, I would dare to tell it to your face, if only +she were not so high above my reach."</p> + +<p>The Sultan who was both shrewd and quick witted +made reply,</p> + +<p>"Say out boldly what is in your mind, for I hold +you dear, and remember what you have done. If there +is aught it beseems me to grant—saving only my honour—be +assured that it is yours."</p> + +<p>"Sire, well I know that your honour is without spot, +nor would I seek anything against it. I pray you to +bestow on your servant—if so it be your pleasure—my +lady your daughter, for she is the gift I covet most in +all the world."</p> + +<p>The Soudan kept silence, and considered for a space. +He knew well that Malakin was both valiant and wise, +and might easily come to great honour and degree. +Since the servant was worthy of his high desire, the +Soudan said, +"By my law you have required of me a great thing, +for I love my daughter dearly, and have no other heir. +You know well, and it is the simple truth, that she comes +of the best and bravest blood in France, for her mother +is the child of the Count of Ponthieu. But since you +too are valiant, and have done me loyal service, for my +part I will give her to you willingly, save only that it +be to the maiden's mind."</p> + +<p>"Sire," said Malakin, "I would not take her against +her wish."</p> + +<p>The Soudan bade the girl be summoned. When she +came, he said, +"Fair daughter, I have granted you in marriage, if +it pleases you."</p> + +<p>"Sir," answered the maiden, "my pleasure is in your +will."</p> + +<p>The Soudan took her by the hand, saying, +"Take her, Malakin, the maid is yours."</p> + +<p>Malakin received her with a glad heart, and wedded +her according to the Paynim rite, bringing her to his +house right joyously, with the countenance of all his +friends. Afterwards he returned with her to his own +land. The Soudan escorted them upon their way, +with such a fair company of his household as seemed +good to him. Then he bade farewell to his child and her +lord, and returned to his home. But a great part of his +fellowship he commanded to go with her for their service, +Malakin came back to his own land, where he was +welcomed right gladly of his friends, and served and +honoured by all the folk of his realm. He lived long and +tenderly with his wife, neither were they childless, as +this story testifies. For of this lady, who was called +the Fair Captive, was born the mother of that courteous +Turk, the Sultan Saladin, an honourable, a wise, and a +conquering lord.</p> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="XVII"></a><h2>XVII</h2> + +<p>THE CHATELAINE OF VERGI</p> +<br> + +<p>There are divers men who make a great show of loyalty, +and pretend to such discretion in the hidden things they +hear, that at the end folk come to put faith in them. +When by their false seeming they have persuaded the +simple to open out to them their love and their deeds, +then they noise the matter about the country, and make +it their song and their mirth. Thus it chances that the +lesser joy is his who has bared to them his heart. For +the sweeter the love, the more bitter is the pang that +lovers know, when each deems the other to have bruited +abroad the secret he should conceal. Oftentimes these +blabbers do such mischief with their tongue, that the +love they spoil comes to its close in sorrow and in care. +This indeed happened in Burgundy to a brave and worthy +knight, and to the Lady of Vergi. This knight loved +his lady so dearly that she granted him her tenderness, +on such covenant as this—that the day he showed her +favour to any, that very hour he would lose the love +and the grace she bestowed on him. To seal this bond +they devised together that the knight should come a +days to an orchard, at such hour as seemed good to +his friend. He must remain coy in his nook within the +wall till he might see the lady's lapdog run across the +orchard. Then without further tarrying he should enter +her chamber, knowing full well she was alone, whom so +fondly he desired to greet. This he did, and in this +fashion they met together for a great while, none being +privy to their sweet and stolen love, save themselves +alone.</p> + +<p>The knight was courteous and fair, and by reason of +his courage was right welcome to that Duke who was lord +of Burgundy. He came and went about the Court, and +that so often that the Duchess set her mind upon him. +She cared so little to hide her thought, that had his +heart not been in another's keeping, he must surely +have perceived in her eyes that she loved him. But +however tender her semblance the knight showed no +kindness in return, for he marked nothing of her inclination. +Passing troubled was the dame that he should +treat her thus; so that on a day she took him apart, +and sought to make him of her counsel.</p> + +<p>"Sir, as men report, you are a brave and worthy +knight, for the which give God thanks. It would +not be more than your deserts, if you had for friend a +lady in so high a place that her love would bring to you +both honour and profit. How richly could such a +lady serve you!"</p> + +<p>"Lady," said he, "I have never yet had this in my +thought."</p> + +<p>"By my faith," she answered, "it seems to me that +the longer you wait, the less is your hope. Perchance +the lady will stoop very readily from her throne, if you +but kneel at her knee."</p> + +<p>The knight replied, +"Lady, by my faith, I know little why you speak such +words, and I understand their meaning not at all. I +am neither duke nor count to dare to set my love in +so high a seat. There is nought in me to gain the love +of so sovereign a dame, pain me how I may."</p> + +<p>"Such things have been," said she, "and so may +chance again. Many more marvellous works have been +wrought than this, and the day of miracles is not yet +past. Tell me, know you not yet that you have gained +the love of some high princess, even mine?"</p> + +<p>The knight made answer forthwith, +"Lady, I know it not. I would desire to have your +love in a fair and honourable fashion; but may God +keep me from such love between us, as would put shame +upon my lord. In no manner, nor for any reason, will +I enter on such a business as would lead me to deal my +true and lawful lord so shrewd and foul a wrong."</p> + +<p>Bitter at heart was the dame to see her love so scorned.</p> + +<p>"Fie upon you," she cried, "and who required of +you any such thing?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, lady, to God be the praise; you have said +enough to make your meaning passing plain."</p> + +<p>The lady strove no more to show herself kind to him. +Great was the wrath and sharp the malice that she hid +within her heart, and well she purposed that, if she might, +she would avenge herself speedily. All the day she +considered her anger. That night as she lay beside the +Duke she began to sigh, and afterwards to weep. Presently +the Duke inquired of her grief, bidding her show +it him forthwith.</p> + +<p>"Certes," said the dame, "I make this great sorrow +because no prince can tell who is his faithful servant, and +who is not. Often he gives the more honour and wealth +to those who are traitors rather than friends, and sees +nothing of their wrong."</p> + +<p>"In faith, wife," answered the Duke, "I know not why +you speak these words. At least I am free of such blame +as this, for in nowise would I nourish a traitor, if only a +traitor I knew him to be."</p> + +<p>"Hate then this traitor," cried she,—and she named a +name—"who gives me no peace, praying and requiring +me the livelong day that I should grant him my love. +For a great while he had been in this mind—as he +says—but did not dare to speak his thoughts. I considered +the whole matter, fair lord, and resolved to show +it you at once. It is likely enough to be true that he +cherished this hope, for we have never heard that he loves +elsewhere. I entreat you in guerdon, to look well to your +own honour, since this, as you know, is your duty and +right."</p> + +<p>Passing grievous was this business to the Duke. He +answered to the lady,</p> + +<p>"I will bring it to a head, and very quickly, as I deem."</p> + +<p>That night the Duke lay upon a bed of little ease. He +could neither sleep nor rest, by reason of that lord, his +friend, who, he was persuaded, had done him such bitter +wrong as justly to have forfeited his love. Because of +this he kept vigil the whole night through. He rose very +early on the morrow, and bade him come whom his wife +had put to blame, although he had done nothing blameworthy. +Then he took him to task, man to man, when +there were but these two together.</p> + +<p>"Certes," he said, "it is a heavy grief that you who are +so comely and brave, should yet have no honour in you. +You have deceived me the more, for I have long believed +you to be a man of good faith, giving loyalty, at least, to +me, in return for the love I have given to you. I know +not how you can have harboured such a felon's wish, as +to pray and require the Duchess to grant you her grace. +You are guilty of such treachery that conduct more +vile it would be far to seek. Get you hence from my +realm. You have my leave to part, and it is denied to +you for ever. If you return here it will be at your utmost +peril, for I warn you beforehand that if I lay hands +upon you, you will die a shameful death."</p> + +<p>When the knight heard this judgment, such wrath and +mortification were his that his members trembled beneath +him. He called to mind his friend, of whom he would +have no joy, if he might not come and go and sojourn +in that realm from which the Duke had banished +him. Moreover he was sick at heart that his lord should +deem him a disloyal traitor, without just cause. He +knew such sore discomfort that he held himself as dead +and betrayed.</p> + +<p>"Sire," said he, "for the love of God believe this never, +neither think that I have been so bold. To do that of +which you wrongfully charge me, has never entered my +mind, not one day, nor for one single hour. Who has +told you this lie has wrought a great ill."</p> + +<p>"You gain nothing by such denials," answered the +Duke, "for of a surety the thing is true. I have heard +from her own lips the very guise and fashion in which +you prayed and required her love, like the envious +traitor that you are. Many another word it may well be +that you spoke, as to which the lady of her courtesy keeps +silence."</p> + +<p>"My lady says what it pleases her to say," replied the +dolorous knight, "and my denials are lighter than +her word. Naught is there for me to say; nothing is left +for me to do, so that I may be believed that this adventure +never happened."</p> + +<p>"Happen it did, by my soul," said the Duke, remembering +certain words of his wife. Well he deemed that he +might be assured of the truth, if but the lady's testimony +were true that this lord had never loved otherwhere. +Therefore the Duke said to the knight, +"If you will pledge your faith to answer truly what I +may ask, I shall be certified by your words whether +or not you have done this deed of which I misdoubt +you."</p> + +<p>The knight had but one desire—to turn aside his lord's +wrath, which had so wrongfully fallen upon him. He +feared only lest he should be driven from the land where +lodged the dame who was the closest to his mind. +Knowing nothing of what was in the Duke's thought, he +considered that his question could only concern the one +matter; so he replied that without fraud or concealment +he would do as his lord had said. Thus he pledged his +faith, and the Duke accepted his affiance.</p> + +<p>When this was done the Duke made question,</p> + +<p>"I have loved you so dearly that at the bottom of my +heart I cannot believe you guilty of such shameless +misdoing as the Duchess tells me. I would not credit it +a moment, if you yourself were not the cause of my doubtfulness. +From your face, the care you bestow upon your +person, and a score of trifles, any who would know, can +readily see that you are in love with some lady. Since +none about the Court perceives damsel or dame on whom +you have set your heart, I ask myself whether indeed +it may not be my wife, who tells me that you have +entreated her for love. Nothing that any one may do +can take this suspicion from my mind, except you tell +me yourself that you love elsewhere, making it so plain +that I am left without doubt that I know the naked +truth. If you refuse her name you will have broken +your oath, and forth from my realm you go as an outlawed +man."</p> + +<p>The knight had none to give him counsel. To himself +he seemed to stand at the parting of two ways, both +one and the other leading to death. If he spoke the +simple truth (and tell he must if he would not be a +perjurer) then was he as good as dead; for if he did +such wrong as to sin against the covenant with his lady +and his friend, certainly he would lose her love, so it +came to her knowledge. But if he concealed the truth +from the Duke, then he was false to his oath, and had +lost both country and friend. But little he recked of +country, so only he might keep his Love, since of all +his riches she was the most dear. The knight called to +heart and remembrance the fair joy and the solace that +were his when he had this lady between his arms. He +considered within himself that if by reason of his misdoing +she came to harm, or were lost to him, since he +might not take her where he went, how could he live +without her. It would be with him also, as erst with +the Castellan of Couci, who having his Love fast only +in his heart, told over in his song,</p> + +Ah, God, strong Love, I sit and weep alone,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Remembering the solace that was given;</span><br> +The tender guise, the semblance that was shown<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By her, my friend, my comrade, and my Heaven.</span><br> +<br> +When grief brings back the joy that was mine own,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I would the heart from out my breast were riven.</span><br> +Ah, Lord, the sweet words hushed, the beauty flown;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Would God that I were dead, and low, and shriven.</span><br> + +<p>The knight was in anguish such as this, for he knew +not whether to make clear the truth, or to lie and be +banished from the country.</p> + +<p>Whilst he was deep in thought, turning over in his +mind what it were best to do, tears rose in his heart +and flowed from his eyes, so that his face was wet, by +reason of the sorrow that he suffered. The Duke +had no more mirth than the knight, deeming that his +secret was so heavy that he dared not make it plain. +The Duke spoke swiftly to his friend,</p> + +<p>"I see clearly that you fear to trust me wholly, as a +knight should trust his lord. If you confess your counsel +privily to me, you cannot think that I shall show the +matter to any man. I would rather have my teeth +drawn one by one, than speak a word."</p> + +<p>"Ah," cried the knight, "for God's love, have pity, +Sire. I know not what I ought to say, nor what will +become of me; but I would rather die than lose what lose +I shall if she only hears that you have the truth, and that +you heard it from my lips, whilst I am a living man."</p> + +<p>The Duke made answer,</p> + +<p>"I swear to you by my body and my soul, and on +the faith and love I owe you again by reason of your +homage, that never in my life will I tell the tale to any +creature born, or even breathe a word or make a sign +about the business."</p> + +<p>With the tears yet running down his face the knight +said to him,</p> + +<p>"Sire, right or wrong, now will I show my secret. +I love your niece of Vergi, and she loves me, so that no +friends can love more fondly."</p> + +<p>"If you wish to be believed," replied the Duke, "tell +me now, if any, save you two alone, knows anything of +this joy?"</p> + +<p>And the knight made answer to him,</p> + +<p>"Nay, not a creature in the world."</p> + +<p>Then said the Duke,</p> + +<p>"No love is so privy as that. If none has heard +thereof, how do you meet together, and how devise +time and place?"</p> + +<p>"By my faith, Sire, I will tell you all, and keep back +nothing, since you know so much of our counsel."</p> + +<p>So he related the whole story of his goings to and fro +within the pleasaunce; of that first covenant with his +friend, and of the office of the little dog.</p> + +<p>Then said the Duke,</p> + +<p>"I require of you that I may be your comrade at +such fair meeting. When you go again to the orchard, I +too, would enter therein, and mark for myself the success of +your device. As for my niece she shall perceive naught."</p> + +<p>"Sire, if it be your will it is my pleasure also; save, +only, that you find it not heavy or burdensome. Know +well that I go this very night."</p> + +<p>The Duke said that he would go with him, for the +vigil would in no wise be burdensome, but rather a +frolic and a game. They accorded between them a place +of meeting, where they would draw together on foot, +and alone. When nightfall was come they fared to the +hostel of the Duke's niece, for her dwelling was near +at hand. They had not tarried long in the garden, when +the Duke saw his niece's lapdog run straight to that +end of the orchard where the knight was hidden. +Wondrous kindness showed the knight to his lady's +dog. Immediately he took his way to her lodging, and left +his master in his nook by the wall. The Duke followed +after till he drew near the chamber, and held himself +coy, concealing him as best he might. It was easy +enough to do this, for a great tree stood there, high and +leafy, so that he was covered close as by a shield. From +this place he marked the little dog enter the chamber, +and presently saw his niece issue therefrom, and hurry +forth to meet her lover in the pleasaunce. He was so +close that he could see and hear the solace of that +greeting, the salutation of her mouth and of her hands. +She embraced him closely in her fair white arms, kissing +him more than a hundred times, whilst she spoke many +comforting words. The knight for his part kissed her +again, and held her fast, praising her with many tender +names.</p> + +<p>"My lady, my friend, my love," said he, "heart and +mistress and hope, and the sum of all that I hold dear, +know well that I have yearned to be with you as we are +now, every day and all day long since we met."</p> + +<p>"Sweet lord, sweet friend, sweet love," replied the +lady, "never has a day nor an hour gone by but I was +awearied of its length. But I grieve no longer over the +past, for I have my heart's desire when you are with +me, joyous and well. Right welcome are you to your +friend."</p> + +<p>And the knight made answer,</p> + +<p>"Love, you are welcome and wellmet."</p> + +<p>From his place of hiding, near the entrance to the +chamber, the Duke hearkened to every word. His +niece's voice and face were so familiar to him, that he +could not doubt that the Duchess had lied. Greatly +was he content, for he was now assured that his friend +had not done amiss in that of which he had misdoubted +him. All through the night he kept watch and ward. +But during his vigil the dame and the knight, close and +sleepless in the chamber, knew such joy and tenderness +as it is not seemly should be told or heard, save of those +who hope themselves to attain such solace, when Love +grants them recompense for all their pains. For he +who desires nothing of this joy and quittance, even if +it were told him, would but listen to a tongue he could +not understand, since his heart is not turned to Love, +and none can know the wealth of such riches, except +Love whisper it in his ear. Of such kingdom not all +are worthy: for there joy goes without anger, and solace +is crowned with fruition. But so fleet are things sweet, +that to the lover his joy seems to find but a brief content. +So pleasant is the life he passes that he wishes his night +a week, his week to stretch to a month, the month +become a year, and one year three, and three years +twenty, and the twenty attain to a hundred. Yea, when +the term and end were reached, he would that the dusk +were closing, rather than the dawn had come.</p> + +<p>This was the case with the lover whom the Duke +awaited in the orchard. When day was breaking, and +he durst remain no longer, he came with his lady to +the door. The Duke marked the fashion of their leave-taking, +the kisses given and granted, the sighs and the +weeping as they bade farewell. When they had wept +many tears, and devised an hour for their next meeting, +the knight departed in this fashion, and the lady shut +the door. But so long as she might see him, she followed +his going with her pretty eyes, since there was nothing +better she could do.</p> + +<p>When the Duke knew the postern was made fast, +he hastened on his road until he overtook the knight, +who to himself was making his complaint of the season, +that all too short was his hour. The same thought +and the self same words were hers from whom he had +parted, for the briefness of the time had betrayed her +delight, and she had no praises for the dawn. The knight +was deep in his thought and speech, when he was overtaken +by the Duke. The Duke embraced his friend, +greeting him very tenderly. Then he said to him,</p> + +<p>"I pledge my faith that I will love you all the days +of my life, never on any day seeking to do you a mischief, +for you have told me the very truth, and have not lied +to me by a single word."</p> + +<p>"Sire," he made answer, "thanks and gramercy. +But for the love of God I require and pray of you that +it be your pleasure to hide this counsel; for I should +lose my love, and the peace and comfort of my life—yea, +and should die without sin of my own, if I deemed +that any other in this realm than yourself knew aught +of the business."</p> + +<p>"Now speak of it never," replied the Duke. "Know +that the counsel shall be kept so hidden, that by me +shall not a syllable be spoken."</p> + +<p>On this covenant they came again whence they had set +forth together. That day, when men sat at meat, the +Duke showed to his knight a friendlier semblance and a +fairer courtesy than ever he had done before. The +Duchess felt such wrath and despitefulness at this, +that—without any leasing—she rose from the table, +and making pretence of sudden sickness, went to lie +upon her bed, where she found little softness. When +the Duke had eaten and washed and made merry, he +afterwards sought his wife's chamber, and causing her +to be seated on her bed, commanded that none should +remain, save himself. So all men went forth at his +word, even as he had bidden. Thereupon the Duke +inquired of the lady how this evil had come to her, and +of what she was sick. She made answer,</p> + +<p>"As God hears me, never till I ate at table did I deem +that you had so little sense or decency, as when I saw +you making much of him, who, I have told you already, +strove to bring shame and disgrace on me. When I +watched you entreat him with more favour than even +was your wont, such great sorrow and such great anger +took hold on me, that I could not contain myself in the +hall."</p> + +<p>"Sweet friend," replied the Duke, "know that I shall +never believe—either from your lips or from those of +any creature in the world—that the story ever happened +as you rehearsed it. I am so deep in his counsel that he +has my quittance, for I have full assurance that he never +dreamed of such a deed. But as to this you must ask +of me no more."</p> + +<p>The Duke went straightway from the chamber, leaving +the lady sunk in thought. However long she had to live, +never might she know an hour's comfort, till she had +learnt something of that secret of which the Duke +forbade her to seek further. No denial could now stand +in her way, for in her heart swiftly she devised a means +to unriddle this counsel, so only she might endure +until the evening, and the Duke was in her arms. She +was persuaded that, beyond doubt, such solace would +win her wish more surely than wrath or tears. For +this purpose she held herself coy, and when the Duke +came to lie at her side she betook herself to the further +side of the bed, making semblance that his company +gave her no pleasure. Well she knew that such show +of anger was the device to put her lord beneath her feet. +Therefore she turned her back upon him, that the Duke +might the more easily be drawn by the cords of her wrath. +For this same reason when he had no more than kissed +her, she burst out,</p> + +<p>"Right false and treacherous and disloyal are you to +make such a pretence of affection, who yet have never +loved me truly one single day. All these years of our +wedded life I have been foolish enough to believe, what +you took such pains in the telling, that you loved +me with a loyal heart. To-day I see plainly that I +was the more deceived."</p> + +<p>"In what are you deceived?" inquired the Duke.</p> + +<p>"By my faith," cried she, who was sick of her desire, +"you warn me that I be not so bold as to ask aught of +that of which you know the secret."</p> + +<p>"In God's name, sweet wife, of what would you +know?"</p> + +<p>"Of all that he has told you, the lies and the follies +he has put in your mind, and led you to believe. But +it matters little now whether I hear it or not, for I +remember how small is my gain in being your true +and loving wife. For good or for ill I have shown you +all my counsel. There was nothing that was known +and seen of my heart that you were not told at once; +and of your courtesy you repay me by concealing your +mind. Know, now, without doubt, that never again +shall I have in you such affiance, nor grant you my love +with such sweetness, as I have bestowed them in the past."</p> +<br> + +<p>Thereat the Duchess began to weep and sigh, making +the most tender sorrow that she was able. The Duke +felt such pity for her grief that he said to her,</p> + +<p>"Fairest and dearest, your wrath and anger are more +heavy than I can bear; but learn that I cannot tell +what you wish me to say without sinning against my +honour too grievously."</p> + +<p>Then she replied forthwith,</p> + +<p>"Husband, if you do not tell me, the reason can only +be that you do not trust me to keep silence in the business. +I wonder the more sorely at this, because there +is no matter, either great or small, that you have told +me, which has been published by me. I tell you honestly +that never in my life could I be so indiscreet."</p> + +<p>When she had said this, she betook her again to her +tears. The Duke kissed and embraced her, and was +so sick of heart that strength failed him to keep his +purpose.</p> + +<p>"Fair wife," he said to her, "by my soul I am at +my wits' end. I have such trust and faith in you that +I deem I should hide nothing, but show you all that I +know. Yet I dread that you will let fall some word. +Know, wife—and I tell it you again—that if ever +you betray this counsel you will get death for your +payment."</p> + +<p>The Duchess made answer,</p> + +<p>"I agree to the bargain, for it is not possible that I +should deal you so shrewd a wrong."</p> + +<p>Then he who loved her, because of his faith and his +credence in her word, told all this story of his niece, +even as he had learned it from the knight. He told how +those two were alone together in the shadow of the +wall, when the little dog ran to them. He showed +plainly of that coming forth from the chamber, and of +the entering in; nothing was hid, he concealed naught +of that he had heard and seen. When the Duchess +understood that the love of a mighty dame was despised +for the sake of a lowly gentlewoman, her humiliation +was bitter in her mouth as death. She showed no semblance +of despitefulness, but made covenant and +promise with the Duke to keep the matter close, saying +that should she repeat his tale he might hang her from +a tree.</p> + +<p>Time went very heavily with the lady, till she could +get speech with her, whom she hated from the hour she +knew her to be the friend of him who had caused her +such shame and grief. She was persuaded that for this +reason he would not give her love, in return for that +she set on him. She confirmed herself in her purpose, +that at such time and place she saw the Duke speaking +with his niece, she would go swiftly to the lady, and tell +out all her mind, hiding nothing because it was evil. +Neither time nor place was met, till Pentecost was come, +and the Duke held high Court, commanding to the feast +all the ladies of his realm, amongst the first that lady, +his niece, who was the Chatelaine of Vergi. When the +Duchess looked on her, the blood pricked in her veins, +for reason that she hated her more than aught else in +the world. She had the courage to hide her malice, and +greeted the lady more gladly than ever she had done +before. But she yearned to show openly the anger that +burned in her heart, and the delay was much against +her mind. On Pentecost, whilst the tables were removed, +the Duchess brought the ladies to her chamber with +her, that, apart from the throng, they might the more +graciously attire them for the dance. She deemed her +hour had come, and having no longer the power to +refrain her lips, she said gaily, as if in jest,</p> + +<p>"Chatelaine, array yourself very sweetly, since there +is a fair and worthy lord you have to please."</p> + +<p>The lady answered right simply,</p> + +<p>"In truth, madam, I know not what you are thinking +of; but for my part I wish for no such friendship as +may not be altogether according to my honour and to +that of my lord."</p> + +<p>"I grant that readily," replied the Duchess, "you +are a good mistress, and have an apt pupil in your little +dog."</p> + +<p>The ladies returned with the Duchess to the hall, +where the dances were already set. They had listened +to the tale, but could not mark the jest. The chatelaine +remained in the chamber. Her colour came and went, +and because of her wrath and trouble the heart throbbed +thickly in her breast. She passed within a tiring chamber, +where a little maiden was lying at the foot of the +bed; but for grief she might not perceive her. The +chatelaine flung herself upon the bed, bewailing her +evil plight, for she was exceedingly sorrowful. She +said,</p> + +<p>"Ah, Lord God, take pity on me! What may this +mean, that I have listened to my lady's reproaches +because of the training of my little dog! This she can +have learned from none—as well I know—save from him +whom I have loved, and who has betrayed me. He +would never have shown her this thing, except that he +was her familiar friend, and doubtless loves her more +dearly than me, whom he has betrayed. I see now the +value of his oaths, since he finds it so easy to fail in his +covenant. Sweet God, and I loved him so fondly, more +fondly than any woman has loved before; who never had +him from my thoughts one single hour, whether it were +night or day. For he was my mirth and my carol; in +him were my joy and my pleasure; he alone was my +solace and comfort. Ah, my friend, how can this have +come; you who were always with me, even when I +might not see you with my eyes! What ill has befallen +you, that you durst prove false to me? I deemed you +more faithful—God take me in His keeping—than ever +was Tristan to Isoude. May God pity a poor fool, I +loved you half as much again than I had love for myself. +From the first to the last of our friendship, never by +thought, or by word, or by deed, have I done amiss; +there is no wrong doing, trifling or great, to make plain +your hatred, or to excuse so vile a betrayal as this +scorning of our love for a fresher face, this desertion +of me, this proclaiming of our secret. Alas, my friend, +I marvel greatly; for as God is my witness my heart +was not thus towards you. If God had offered me all +the kingdoms of the world, yea, and His Heaven and its +Paradise besides, I would have refused them gladly, had +my gain meant the losing of you. For you were my +wealth and my song and my health, and nothing can +hurt me any more, since my heart has learnt that yours +no longer loves me. Ah, lasting, precious love! Who +could have guessed that he would deal this blow, to +whom I gave the grace of my tenderness—who said +that I was his lady both in body and in soul, and +he the slave at my bidding. Yea, he told it over so +sweetly, that I believed him faithfully, nor thought in +any wise that his heart would bear wrath and malice +against me, whether for Duchess or for Queen. How +good was this love, since the heart in my breast must +always cleave to his! I counted him to be my friend, +in age as in youth, our lives together; for well I knew +that if he died first I should not dare to endure long +without him, because of the greatness of my love. The +grave, with him, would be fairer, than life in a world +where I might never see him with my eyes. Ah, lasting, +precious love! Is it then seemly that he should publish +our counsel, and destroy her who had done him no +wrong? When I gave him my love without grudging, +I warned him plainly, and made covenant with him, +that he would lose me the self same hour that he made +our tenderness a song. Since part we must, I may not +live after so bitter a sorrow; nor would I choose to +live, even if I were able. Fie upon life, it has no savour +in it. Since it pleases me naught, I pray to God to grant +me death, and—so truly as I have loved him who requites +me thus—to have mercy on my soul. I forgive him +his wrong, and may God give honour and life to him +who has betrayed and delivered me to death. Since +it comes from his hand, death, meseems, is no bitter +potion; and when I remember his love, to die for his +sake is no grievous thing."</p> + +<p>When the chatelaine had thus spoken she kept silence, +save only that she said in sighing,</p> + +<p>"Sweet friend, I commend you to God."</p> + +<p>With these words she strained her arms tightly across +her breast, the heart failed her, and her face lost its fair +colour. She swooned in her anguish, and lay back, pale +and discoloured in the middle of the bed, without life or +breath.</p> + +<p>Of this her friend knew nothing, for he sought his +delight in the hall, at carol and dance and play. But +amongst all those ladies he had no pleasure in any that +he saw, since he might not perceive her to whom his +heart was given, and much he marvelled thereat. He +took the Duke apart, and said in his ear,</p> + +<p>"Sire, whence is this that your niece tarries so long, and +comes not to the dancing? Have you put her in prison?"</p> + +<p>The Duke looked upon the dancers, for he had not +concerned himself with the revels. He took his friend +by the hand, and led him directly to his wife's chamber. +When he might not find her there he bade the knight +seek her boldly in the tiring chamber; and this he did +of his courtesy that these two lovers might solace +themselves with clasp and kiss. The knight thanked his +lord sweetly, and entered softly in the chamber, where +his friend lay dark and discoloured upon the bed. Time +and place being met together, he took her in his arms +and touched her lips. But when he found how cold was +her mouth, how pale and rigid her person, he knew by +the semblance of all her body that she was quite dead. +In his amazement he cried out swiftly,</p> + +<p>"What is this? Alas, is my dear one dead?"</p> + +<p>The maiden started from the foot of the bed where +she still lay, making answer,</p> + +<p>"Sir, I deem truly that she be dead. Since she came +to this room she has done nothing but call upon death, +by reason of her friend's falsehood, whereof my lady +assured her, and because of a little dog, whereof my +lady made her jest. This sorrow brought her to her +death."</p> + +<p>When the knight understood from this that the words +he had spoken to the Duke had slain his friend, he was +discomforted beyond measure.</p> + +<p>"Alas," said he, "sweet love, the most gracious and +the best that ever knight had, loyal and true, how have +I slain you, like the faithless traitor that I am! It +were only just that I should receive the wages for my +deed, so that you could have gone free of blame. But +you were so faithful of heart that you took it on yourself +to pay the price. Then I will do justice on myself for +the treason I have wrought."</p> + +<p>The knight drew from its sheath a sword that was +hanging from the wall, and thrust it throught his heart. +He pained himself to fall upon his lady's body; and +because of the mightiness of his hurt, bled swiftly to +death. The maiden fled forth from the chamber, when +she marked these lifeless lovers, for she was all adread +at what she saw. She lighted on the Duke, and told +him all that she had heard and seen, keeping back +nothing. She showed him the beginning of the matter, +and also of the little dog, whereof the Duchess had +spoken.</p> + +<p>Hearken all to what befell. The Duke went straightway +to the tiring chamber, and drew from out the wound +that sword by which the knight lay slain. He said no +word, but hastened forthwith to the hall where the guests +were yet at their dancing. Entering there he acquitted +himself of his promise, for he smote the Duchess on +the head with the naked sword he carried in his hand. He +struck the blow without one word, since his wrath was +too deep for speech. The Duchess fell at his feet, in +the sight of the barons of his realm, whereat the feast +was sorely troubled, for in place of mirth and carol, now +were blood and death. Then the Duke told loudly +and swiftly, before all who cared to hear, this pitiful +story, in the midst of his Court. There was not one +but wept, and his tears were the more piteous when he +beheld those two lovers who lay dead in the chamber, +and the Duchess in her hall. So the Court broke up in +dole and anger, for of this deed came mighty mischief. +On the morrow the Duke caused the lovers to be laid +in one tomb, and the Duchess in a place apart. But +of this adventure the Duke had such bitterness that never +was he known to laugh again. He took the Cross, +and went beyond the sea, where joining himself to +the Knights Templar, he never returned to his own +realm.</p> + +<p>Ah, God! all this mischief and encumbrance chanced +to the knight by reason of his making plain that he +should have hid, and of publishing what his friend +forbade him to speak, if he would keep her love. From +this ensample we may learn that it is not seemly to love, +and tell. He who blabs and blazons his friendship gets +not one kiss the more; but he who goes discreetly +preserves life and love and fame. For the friendship +of the discreet lover falls not before the mine of such +false and felon pryers as burrow privily into their +neighbour's secret love.</p> +<br> + +<p>PRINTED BY</p> + +<p>THE TEMPLE PRESS AT LETCHWORTH IN GREAT BRITAIN</p> + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11417 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..53d569f --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #11417 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11417) diff --git a/old/11417-8.txt b/old/11417-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..14e6b5d --- /dev/null +++ b/old/11417-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7483 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of French Mediaeval Romances from the Lays of +Marie de France, by Marie de France + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: French Mediaeval Romances from the Lays of Marie de France + +Author: Marie de France + +Release Date: March 3, 2004 [EBook #11417] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FRENCH MEDIAEVAL ROMANCES *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Bradley Norton and PG Distributed +Proofreaders + + + + + +FRENCH MEDIAEVAL ROMANCES + +_From the Lays of Marie de France_ + +_Translated by Eugene Mason_. + + + +1911 + + + +INTRODUCTION + + +The tales included in this little book of translations are derived +mainly from the "Lays" of Marie de France. I do not profess them to be +a complete collection of her stories in verse. The ascription varies. +Poems which were included in her work but yesterday are withdrawn +to-day, and new matter suggested by scholars to take the place of the +old. I believe it to be, however, a far fuller version of Marie's +"Lays" than has yet appeared, to my knowledge, in English. Marie's +poems are concerned chiefly with love. To complete my book I have +added two famous mediaeval stories on the same excellent theme. +This, then, may be regarded as a volume of French romances, dealing, +generally, with one aspect of mediaeval life. + +An age so feminist in its sympathies as ours should be attracted the +more easily to Marie de France, because she was both an artist and a +woman. To deliver oneself through any medium is always difficult. For +a woman of the Middle Ages to express herself publicly by any means +whatever was almost impossible. A great lady, a great Saint or +church-woman, might do so very occasionally. But the individuality +of the ordinary wife was merged in that of her husband, and for one +Abbess of Shrewsbury or Whitby, for one St. Clare or St. Hilda, there +were how many thousand obscure sisters, who were buried in the daily +routine of a life hidden with Christ in God! Doubtless the artistic +temperament burst out now and again in woman, and would take no +denial. It blew where it listed, appearing in the most unexpected +places. A young nun in a Saxon convent, for instance, would write +little dramas in Latin for the amusement and edification of the noble +maidens under her charge. These comedies, written in the days of the +Emperor Otho, can be read with pleasure in the reign of King George, +by those who find fragrant the perfumes of the past. They deal with +the pious legends of the Saints, and are regarded with wistful +admiration by the most modern of Parisian playwrights. In their +combination of audacity and simplicity they could only be performed by +Saxon religious in the times of Otho, or by marionettes in the more +self-conscious life of to-day. Or, again, an Abbess, the protagonist +of one of the great love stories of the world, by sheer force of +personality, would compose letters to one--how immeasurably her moral +inferior, in spite of his genius--expressing with an unexampled +poignancy the most passionate emotions of the heart. Or, to take my +third illustration, here are a woman's poems written in an age when +literature was almost entirely in the hands of men. Consider the +strength of character which alone induced these three ladies to stray +from the beaten paths of their sex. To the average woman it was +enough to be an object of art herself, or to be the inspiration of +masterpieces by man. But these three women of the Middle Ages--and +such as they--shunned the easier way, and, in their several spheres, +were by deliberate effort, self-conscious artists. + +The place and date of birth of Marie de France are unknown--indeed +the very century in which she lived has been a matter of dispute. Her +poems are written in the French of northern France; but that does not +prove her necessarily to be a Frenchwoman. French was the tongue +of the English Court, and many Englishmen have written in the same +language. Indeed, it is a very excellent vehicle for expression. +Occasionally, Marie would insert English words in her French text, the +better to convey her meaning; but it does not follow therefrom that +the romances were composed in England. It seems strange that so +few positive indications of her race and home are given in her +poems--nothing is contained beyond her Christian name and the bare +statement that she was of France. She took great pride in her work, +which she wrought to the best of her ability, and was extremely +jealous of that bubble-reputation. Yet whilst this work was an +excellent piece of self-portraiture, it reveals not one single fact +or date on which to go. A consensus of critical opinion presumes that +Marie was a subject of the English Crown, born in an ancient town +called Pitre, some three miles above Rouen, in the Duchy of Normandy. +This speculation is based largely on the unwonted topographical +accuracy of her description of Pitre, given in "The Lay of the Two +Lovers." Such evidence, perhaps, is insufficient to obtain a judgment +in a Court of Law. The date when Marie lived was long a matter of +dispute. The Prologue to her "Lays" contains a dedication to some +unnamed King; whilst her "Fables" is dedicated to a certain Count +William. These facts prove her to have been a person of position and +repute. The King was long supposed to be Henry the Third of England, +and this would suggest that she lived in the thirteenth century. +An early scholar, the Abbé de La Rue, in fact, said that this was +"undoubtedly" the case, giving cogent reasons in support of his +contention. But modern scholarship, in the person of Gaston Paris, +has decided that the King was Henry the Second, of pious memory; the +Count, William Longsword, Earl of Salisbury, his natural son by Fair +Rosamund; and that Marie must be placed in the second half of the +twelfth century. This shows that scholarship is not an exact science, +and that such words as "doubtless" should not be employed more than +necessary. A certain Eastern philosopher, when engaged in instructing +the youth of his country, used always to conclude his lectures with +the unvarying formula, "But, gentlemen, all that I have told you is +probably wrong." This sage was a wise man (not always the same thing), +and his example should be had in remembrance. It seems possible (and +one hesitates to use a stronger word) that the "Lays" of Marie were +actually written at the Court of Henry of England. From political +ambition the King was married to Eleanor of Aquitaine, a lady of +literary tastes, who came from a family in which the patronage of +singers was a tradition. Her husband, too, had a pronounced liking for +literature. He was fond of books, and once paid a visit to Glastonbury +to visit King Arthur's tomb. These, perhaps, are limited virtues, but +Henry the Second had need of every rag. It is somewhat difficult to +recognise in that King of the Prologue, "in whose heart all gracious +things are rooted," the actual King who murdered Becket; who turned +over picture-books at Mass, and never confessed or communicated. It is +yet more difficult to perceive "joy as his handmaid" who, because of +the loss of a favourite city, threatened to revenge himself on God, by +robbing Him of that thing--_i.e._, the soul--He desired most in him; +and whose very last words were an echo of Job's curse upon the day +that he was born. Marie's phrases may be regarded, perhaps, as a +courtly flourish, rather than as conveying truth with mathematical +precision. If not, we should be driven to suggest an alternative to +the favourite simile of lying like an epitaph. But I think it unlikely +that Marie suffered with a morbidly sensitive conscience. There is +little enough real devotion to be met with in her "Lays"; and if +her last book--a translation from the Latin of the Purgatory of St. +Patrick--is on a subject she avoids in her earlier work, it was +written under the influence of some high prelate, and may be regarded +as a sign that she watched the shadows cast by the western sun +lengthening on the grass. + +Gaston Paris suggests 1175 as an approximate date for the composition +of the "Lays" of Marie de France. Their success was immediate and +unequivocal, as indeed was to be expected in the case of a lady +situated so fortunately at Court. We have proof of this in the +testimony of Denis Pyramus, the author who wrote a Life of St. Edmund +the King, early in the following century. He says, in that poem, "And +also Dame Marie, who turned into rhyme and made verses of 'Lays' which +are not in the least true. For these she is much praised, and her +rhyme is loved everywhere; for counts, barons, and knights greatly +admire it, and hold it dear. And they love her writing so much, and +take such pleasure in it, that they have it read, and often copied. +These Lays are wont to please ladies, who listen to them with delight, +for they are after their own hearts." It is no wonder that the lords +and ladies of her century were so enthralled by Marie's romances, for +her success was thoroughly well deserved. Even after seven hundred +years her colours remain surprisingly vivid, and if the tapestry is +now a little worn and faded in places, we still follow with interest +the movements of the figures wrought so graciously upon the arras. Of +course her stories are not original; but was any plot original at +any period of the earth's history? This is not only an old, but an +iterative world. The source of Marie's inspiration is perfectly clear, +for she states it emphatically in quite a number of her Lays. This +adventure chanced in Brittany, and in remembrance thereof the Bretons +made a Lay, which I heard sung by the minstrel to the music of his +rote. Marie's part consisted in reshaping this ancient material in her +own rhythmic and coloured words. Scholars tell us that the essence of +her stories is of Celtic rather than of Breton origin. It may be so; +though to the lay mind this is not a matter of great importance one +way or the other; but it seems better to accept a person's definite +statement until it is proved to be false. The Breton or Celtic +imagination had peculiar qualities of dreaminess, and magic and +mystery. Marie's mind was not cast in a precisely similar mould. +Occasionally she is successful enough; but generally she gives the +effect of building with a substance the significance of which she does +not completely realise. She may be likened to a child playing with +symbols which, in the hand of the enchanter, would be of tremendous +import. Her treatment of Isoude, for example, in "The Lay of the +Honeysuckle," is quite perfect in tone, and, indeed, is a little +masterpiece in its own fashion. But her sketch of Guenevere in "The +Lay of Sir Launfal" is of a character that one does not recall with +pleasure. To see how Arthur's Queen might be treated, we have but +to turn to the pages of a contemporary, and learn from Chrestien de +Troyes' "Knight of the Cart," how an even more considerable poet +than Marie could deal with a Celtic legend. The fact is that Marie's +romances derive farther back than any Breton or Celtic dream. They +were so old that they had blown like thistledown about the four +quarters of the world. Her princesses came really neither from Wales +nor Brittany. They were of that stuff from which romance is shaped. +"Her face was bright as the day of union; her hair dark as the night +of separation; and her mouth was magical as Solomon's seal." You can +parallel her "Lays" from folklore, from classical story and antiquity. +Father and son fight together unwittingly in "The Lay of Milon"; +but Rustum had striven with Sohrab long before in far Persia, and +Cuchulain with his child in Ireland. Such stories are common property. +The writer takes his own where he finds it. Marie is none the less +admirable because her stories were narrated by the first man in Eden; +neither are Boccaccio and the Countess D'Aulnoy blameworthy since they +told again what she already had related so well. Marie, indeed, was an +admirable narrator. That was one of her shining virtues. As a piece of +artful tale telling, a specimen of the craft of keeping a situation in +suspense, the arrival of the lady before Arthur's Court, in "The Lay +of Sir Launfal," requires a deal of beating. The justness and fineness +of her sentiment in all that concerns the delicacies of the human +heart are also remarkable. But her true business was that of the +storyteller. In that trade she was almost unapproachable in her day. +There may have been--indeed, there was--a more considerable poet +living; but a more excellent writer of romances, than the author of +"Eliduc," it would have been difficult to find. + +The ladies who found the "Lays" of Marie after their own hearts +were not only admirers of beautiful stories; they had the delicate +privilege also of admiring themselves in their habit as they +lived--perhaps even lovelier than in reality--amidst their accustomed +surroundings. The pleasure of a modern reader in such tales as these +is enhanced by the light they throw on the household arrangements and +customs of the gentlefolk of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. It +may be of interest to consider some of these domestic arrangements, as +illustrated by stories included in the present volume. + +The corporate life of a mediaeval household centered in the hall. It +was office and dining and billiard room, and was common to gentle and +simple alike. The hall was by far the largest room in the house. It +was lighted by windows, and warmed by an open fire of logs. The smoke +drifted about the roof, escaping finally by the simple means of a +lantern placed immediately above the hearth. A beaten floor was +covered by rushes and fresh hay, or with rugs in that part affected by +the more important members of the household. The lord himself and his +wife sat in chairs upon a raised daïs. The retainers were seated +on benches around the wall, and before them was spread the dining +table--a mere board upon trestles--which was removed when once the +meal was done. After supper, chess and draughts were played, or (as +we may see in "The Lay of the Thorn") minstrels sang ballads and the +guest contributed to the general entertainment by the recital of such +jests and adventures as commended themselves to his taste. If the hall +may be considered as the dining room of the mediaeval home, the garden +might almost be looked upon as the drawing room. You would probably +get more real privacy in the garden than in any other part of the +crowded castle, including the lady's chamber. It is no wonder that +we read of Guenevere taking Launfal aside for a little private +conversation in her pleasaunce. It was not only the most private, +but also the most delightful room in the house--ceiled with blue and +carpeted with green. The garden was laid out elaborately with a perron +and many raised seats. Trees stood about the lawn in tubs, and there +was generally a fountain playing in the centre, or possibly a pond, +stocked with fish. Fruit trees and flower beds grew thickly about the +garden, and a pleasanter place of perfume and colour and shade it +would be difficult to imagine in the summer heat. The third room of +which we hear continually in these romances is the lady's chamber. It +served the purpose of a boudoir as well as that of a sleeping room, +and consequently had little real privacy. It contained the marriage +chest with its store of linen, and also the bed. This bed recurs +eternally in mediæval tales. It was used as a seat during the day, and +as a resting-place of nights. It was a magnificent erection, carved +and gilded, and inlaid with ivory. Upon it was placed a mattress of +feathers, and a soft pillow. The sheets were of linen or silk, and +over all was spread a coverlet of some precious material. An excellent +description of such a couch is given in "The Lay of Gugemar." This +chamber served also as a bath room, and there the bath was taken, +piping hot, in the strange vessel, fashioned somewhat like a churn, +that we see in pictures of the Middle Ages. + +Of the dress of the ladies who moved about the castle, seeing +themselves reflected from Marie's pages as in a polished mirror, I +am not competent to speak. The type of beauty preferred by the old +romancers was that of a child's princess of fairy tale--blue-eyed, +golden-haired, and ruddy of cheek. The lady would wear a shift of +linen, "white as meadow flower." Over this was worn a garment of fur +or silk, according to the season; and, above all, a vividly coloured +gown, all in one line from neck to feet, shapen closely to the figure, +or else the more loosely fitting bliaut. Her girdle clipped her +closely about the waist, falling to the hem of her skirt, and her feet +were shod in soundless shoes, without heels. The hair was arranged in +two long braids, brought forward over her shoulders; as worn by those +smiling Queens wrought upon the western porch of Chartres Cathedral. +Out of doors, and, indeed, frequently within, as may be proved by a +reference to "The Lay of the Ash Tree," the lady was clad in a mantle +and a hood. It must have taken a great deal of time and travail to +appear so dainty a production. But to become poetry for others, it is +necessary for a woman first to be prose to herself. + +I am afraid the raw material of this radiant divinity had much to +endure before she suffered her sea change. In mediaeval illustrations +we see the maiden sitting demurely in company, with downcast eyes, and +hands folded modestly in her lap. This unnatural restraint was induced +by the lavish compulsion of the rod. If there was one text, above all +others, approved and acted upon by fathers and mothers of the Middle +Ages, it was that exhorting parents not to cocker their child, neither +to wink at his follies, but to beat him on the sides with a stick. +Turn to "The Lay of the Thorn," and mark the gusto with which a mother +disciplines her maid. Parents trained their children with blows. +Husbands (ah, the audacity of the mediaeval husband) scattered the +like seeds of kindness on their wives. In a book written for the +edification of his unmarried daughters, Chaucer's contemporary, the +Knight of La Tour Landry, tells the following interesting anecdote. +A man had a scolding wife, who railed ungovernably upon him before +strangers, "and he that was angry of her governance smote her with his +first down to the earth; and then with his foot he struck her on the +visage, and broke her nose; and all her life after that she had her +nose crooked, the which shent and disfigured her visage after, that +she might not for shame show her visage, it was so foul blemished. And +this she had for her evil and great language that she was wont to say +to her husband. And therefore the wife ought to suffer, and let the +husband have the words, and to be master." May I give yet another +illustration before we pass from the subject. This time it is taken +not from a French knight, but from a sermon of the great Italian +preacher, St. Bernardino of Siena. "There are men who can bear more +patiently with a hen that lays a fresh egg every day than with their +own wives; and sometimes when the hen breaks a pipkin or a cup he +will spare it a beating, simply for love of the fresh egg which he +is unwilling to lose. Oh, raving madmen! who cannot bear a word from +their own wives, though they bear them such fair fruit; but when the +woman speaks a word more than they like, then they catch up a stick, +and begin to cudgel her; while the hen that cackles all day, and gives +you no rest, you take patience with her for the sake of her miserable +egg--and sometimes she will break more in your house than she herself +is worth, yet you bear it in patience for the egg's sake. Many +fidgetty fellows, who sometimes see their wives turn out less neat and +dainty than they would like, smite them forthwith; and meanwhile the +hen may make a mess on the table, and you suffer her. Have patience; +it is not right to beat your wife for every cause, no!" + +At the commencement of this Introduction I stated that Marie's +romances are concerned mainly with love. Her talent was not very +wide nor rich, and I have no doubt that there were facets of her +personality which she was unable to get upon paper. The prettiest +girl in the world can only give what she has to give. By the time any +reader reaches the end of this volume he will be assured that the +stories are stories of love. Probably he will have noticed also that, +in many cases, the lady who inspires the most delicate of sentiments +is, incidentally, a married woman. He may ask why this was so; and in +answer I propose to conclude my paper with a few observations upon the +subject of mediaeval love. + +I doubt in my own mind whether romance writers do not exaggerate what +was certainly a characteristic of the Middle Ages. To be ordinary +is to be uninteresting; and it is obvious that the stranger the +experience, the more likely is it to attract the interest and +attention of the hearer. Blessed is the person--as well as the +country--who has no history. But it was really very difficult for +the twelfth century poet to write a love story, with a maiden as the +central figure. The noble maiden seldom had a love story. It is +true enough that she was sometimes referred to in the choice of her +husband: two young ladies in "A Story of Beyond the Sea" are both +consulted in the matter. As a rule, however, her inclination was not +permitted to stand in the way of the interests of her parents or +guardians. She was betrothed in childhood, and married very young, for +mercenary or political reasons, to a husband much older than herself. +We read of a girl of twelve being married to a man of fifty. There was +no great opportunity for a love story here; and the strange entreaty, +on the part of the nameless French poet, to love the maidens for the +sake of Christ's love, passed over the heads of the romance writers. +Not that the mediæval maidens showed any shrinking from matrimony. +"Fair daughter, I have given you a husband." "Blessed be God," said +the damsel. There spoke a contented spirit. Things have changed, and +we can but sigh after the good old times. + +But the maiden inevitably became the wife, and the whirligig of Time +brought in his revenges. The lady now found herself the most important +member of her sex, in a dwelling filled with men. She had few women +about her person, and the confidant of a great dame in old romance is, +frequently enough, her chamberlain. These young men had no chance of +marriage, and naturally strove to gain the attention of a lady, whose +favour was to them so important a matter. A mediæval knight was the +sworn champion of God and the ladies--but more especially the latter. +The chatelaine, herself, found time hang heavily on her hands. +Amusements were few; books limited in number; a husband not of +absorbing interest; so she turned to such distractions as presented +themselves. The prettier a lady, the sweeter the incense and flattery +swung beneath her nose; for this was one of the disadvantages of +marrying an attractive woman. "It is hard to keep a wife whom everyone +admires; and if no one admires her it is hard to have to live with her +yourself." One of these distractions took the shape of Courts of Love, +where the bored but literary chatelaine discussed delicate problems of +conduct pertaining to the heart. The minstrel about the lady's castle, +for his part, sought her favourable notice not only by his songs but +also by giving an object lesson of his melancholy condition. One would +imagine that his proceedings were not always calculated to further +their purpose. A famous singer, for instance, in honour of a lady who +was named Lupa, caused himself to be sewn in a wolf's skin, and ran +before the hounds till he was pulled down, half dead. Another great +minstrel and lover bought a leper's gown and bowl and clapper from +some afflicted wretch. He mutilated his forefinger, and sat before his +lady's door, in the company of a piteous crowd of sick and maimed, to +await her alms. No doubt he trusted that his devotion would procure +him a different kind of charity. From such discussions as these, and +from conduct such as this, a type of love came into being which was +peculiar to the period. Since the lovers were not bound in the sweet +and common union of children and home, since on the side of the lady +all was of grace and nought of debt, they searched out other bands to +unite them together. These they found in a system of devotion, silence +and faithfulness, which added a dignity to their relations. These +virtues they took so seriously that we find the Chatelaine of Vergi +dying because she believed her lover to have betrayed her trust. The +mediaeval romancer contemplated such unions with joy and pity; but +for all their virtues we must not deceive ourselves with words. Such +honour was rooted in dishonour, and the measure of their guilt was +that they debased the moral currency. Presently the greatest of all +the poets of the Middle Ages would arise, to teach a different fashion +of devotion. His was a love that sought no communion with its object, +neither speech nor embrace. It was sufficient for Dante to contemplate +Beatrice from afar, as one might kneel before the picture of a saint. +I do not say that a love like this--so spiritual and so aloof--will +ever be possible to men. It did not suffice even to Dante, for all +his tremendous moral muscle. Human love must always and inevitably be +founded on a physical basis. But the burning drop of idealism that +Dante contributed to the passion of the Middle Ages has made possible +the love of which we now and again catch a glimpse in the union of +select natures. And that the seed of such flowering may be carried +about the world is one of the fairest hopes and possibilities of the +human race. + +EUGENE MASON. + +The originals of these narratives are to be found in Roquefort's +edition of the Poésies de Marie de France; in a volume of the +Nouvelles Françoises en Prose, edited by Moland and D'Héricault; and +in M. Gaston Raynaud's text of La Chatelaine de Vergi. + + + + +CONTENTS + + +INTRODUCTION + +I. PROLOGUE BY WAY OF DEDICATION + +II. THE LAY OF GUGEMAR + +III. THE LAY OF THE DOLOROUS KNIGHT + +IV. THE LAY OF ELIDUC + +V. THE LAY OF THE NIGHTINGALE + +VI. THE LAY OF SIR LAUNFAL + +VII. THE LAY OF THE TWO LOVERS + +VIII. THE LAY OF THE WERE-WOLF + +IX. THE LAY OF THE ASH TREE + +X. THE LAY OF THE HONEYSUCKLE + +XI. THE LAY OF EQUITAN + +XII. THE LAY OF MILON + +XIII. THE LAY OF YONEC + +XIV. THE LAY OF THE THORN + +XV. THE LAY OF GRAELENT + +XVI. A STORY OF BEYOND THE SEA + +XVII. THE CHATELAINE OF VERGI + + + + + +I + + +PROLOGUE + +BY WAY OF DEDICATION + +Those to whom God has given the gift of comely speech, should not hide +their light beneath a bushel, but should willingly show it abroad. If +a great truth is proclaimed in the ears of men, it brings forth fruit +a hundred-fold; but when the sweetness of the telling is praised of +many, flowers mingle with the fruit upon the branch. + +According to the witness of Priscian, it was the custom of ancient +writers to express obscurely some portions of their books, so that +those who came after might study with greater diligence to find the +thought within their words. The philosophers knew this well, and were +the more unwearied in labour, the more subtle in distinctions, so that +the truth might make them free. They were persuaded that he who would +keep himself unspotted from the world should search for knowledge, +that he might understand. To set evil from me, and to put away my +grief, I purposed to commence a book. I considered within myself +what fair story in the Latin or Romance I could turn into the common +tongue. But I found that all the stories had been written, and +scarcely it seemed the worth my doing, what so many had already done. +Then I called to mind those Lays I had so often heard. I doubted +nothing--for well I know--that our fathers fashioned them, that men +should bear in remembrance the deeds of those who have gone before. +Many a one, on many a day, the minstrel has chanted to my ear. I would +not that they should perish, forgotten, by the roadside. In my turn, +therefore, I have made of them a song, rhymed as well as I am able, +and often has their shaping kept me sleepless in my bed. + +In your honour, most noble and courteous King, to whom joy is a +handmaid, and in whose heart all gracious things are rooted, I have +brought together these Lays, and told my tales in seemly rhyme. Ere +they speak for me, let me speak with my own mouth, and say, "Sire, I +offer you these verses. If you are pleased to receive them, the fairer +happiness will be mine, and the more lightly I shall go all the days +of my life. Do not deem that I think more highly of myself than I +ought to think, since I presume to proffer this, my gift." Hearken now +to the commencement of the matter. + + + + +II + + +THE LAY OF GUGEMAR + +Hearken, oh gentles, to the words of Marie. When the minstrel tells +his tale, let the folk about the fire heed him willingly. For his part +the singer must be wary not to spoil good music with unseemly words. +Listen, oh lordlings, to the words of Marie, for she pains herself +grievously not to forget this thing. The craft is hard--then approve +the more sweetly him who carols the tune. But this is the way of the +world, that when a man or woman sings more tunably than his fellows, +those about the fire fall upon him, pell-mell, for reason of their +envy. They rehearse diligently the faults of his song, and steal away +his praise with evil words. I will brand these folk as they deserve. +They, and such as they, are like mad dogs--cowardly and felon--who +traitorously bring to death men better than themselves. Now let the +japer, and the smiler with his knife, do me what harm they may. Verily +they are in their right to speak ill of me. + +Hearken, oh gentles, to the tale I set before you, for thereof the +Bretons already have made a Lay. I will not do it harm by many words, +and here is the commencement of the matter. According to text and +scripture, now I relate a certain adventure, which bechanced in the +realm of Brittany, in days long gone before. + +In that time when Arthur maintained his realm, the now in peace, the +now in war, the King counted amongst his vassals a certain baron, +named Oridial. This knight was lord of Leon, and was very near to his +prince's heart, both in council chamber and in field. From his wife he +had gotten two children, the one a son and the other a fair daughter. +Nogent, he had called the damsel at the font, and the dansellon was +named Gugemar--no goodlier might be found in any realm. His mother had +set all her love upon the lad, and his father shewed him every good +that he was able. When the varlet was no more a child, Oridial sent +him to the King, to be trained as a page in the courtesies of the +Court. Right serviceable was he in his station, and meetly praised +of all. The term of his service having come, and he being found of +fitting years and knowledge, the King made him knight with his own +hand, and armed him in rich harness, according to his wish. So Gugemar +gave gifts to all those about his person, and bidding farewell, took +leave, and departed from the Court. Gugemar went his way to Flanders, +being desirous of advancement, for in that kingdom ever they have +strife and war. Neither in Loraine nor Burgundy, Anjou nor Gascony, +might be found in that day a better knight than he, no, nor one his +peer. He had but one fault, since of love he took no care. There was +neither dame nor maiden beneath the sky, however dainty and kind, to +whom he gave thought or heed, though had he required her love of any +damsel, very willingly would she have granted his desire. Many there +were who prayed him for his love, but might have no kiss in return. So +seeing that he refrained his heart in this fashion, men deemed him a +strange man, and one fallen into a perilous case. + +In the flower of his deeds the good knight returned to his own land, +that he might see again his father and lord, his mother and his +sister, even as he very tenderly desired. He lodged with them for the +space of a long month, and at the end of that time had envy to hunt +within the wood. The night being come, Gugemar summoned his prickers +and his squires, and early in the morning rode within the forest. +Great pleasure had Gugemar in the woodland, and much he delighted in +the chase. A tall stag was presently started, and the hounds being +uncoupled, all hastened in pursuit--the huntsmen before, and the good +knight following after, winding upon his horn. Gugemar rode at a great +pace after the quarry, a varlet riding beside, bearing his bow, his +arrows and his spear. He followed so hotly that he over-passed the +chase. Gazing about him he marked, within a thicket, a doe hiding with +her fawn. Very white and wonderful was this beast, for she was without +spot, and bore antlers upon her head. The hounds bayed about her, but +might not pull her down. Gugemar bent his bow, and loosed a shaft +at the quarry. He wounded the deer a little above the hoof, so that +presently she fell upon her side. But the arrow glanced away, and +returning upon itself, struck Gugemar in the thigh, so grievously, +that straightway he fell from his horse upon the ground. Gugemar lay +upon the grass, beside the deer which he had wounded to his hurt. He +heard her sighs and groans, and perceived the bitterness of her pity. +Then with mortal speech the doe spake to the wounded man in such +fashion as this, "Alas, my sorrow, for now am I slain. But thou, +Vassal, who hast done me this great wrong, do not think to hide from +the vengeance of thy destiny. Never may surgeon and his medicine heal +your hurt. Neither herb nor root nor potion can ever cure the wound +within your flesh: For that there is no healing. The only balm to +close that sore must be brought by a woman, who for her love will +suffer such pain and sorrow as no woman in the world has endured +before. And to the dolorous lady, dolorous knight. For your part you +shall do and suffer so great things for her, that not a lover beneath +the sun, or lovers who are dead, or lovers who yet shall have their +day, but shall marvel at the tale. Now, go from hence, and let me die +in peace." + +Gugemar was wounded twice over--by the arrow, and by the words he was +dismayed to hear. He considered within himself to what land he must go +to find this healing for his hurt, for he was yet too young to die. He +saw clearly, and told it to his heart, that there was no lady in his +life to whom he could run for pity, and be made whole of his wound. He +called his varlet before him, + +"Friend," said he, "go forthwith, and bring my comrades to this place, +for I have to speak with them." + +The varlet went upon his errand, leaving his master sick with the heat +and fever of his hurt. When he was gone, Gugemar tore the hem from his +shirt, and bound it straitly about his wound. He climbed painfully +upon the saddle, and departed without more ado, for he was with child +to be gone before any could come to stay him from his purpose. A green +path led through the deep forest to the plain, and his way across the +plain brought him to a cliff, exceeding high, and to the sea. Gugemar +looked upon the water, which was very still, for this fair harbourage +was land-locked from the main. Upon this harbour lay one only vessel, +bearing a rich pavilion of silk, daintily furnished both without and +within, and well it seemed to Gugemar that he had seen this ship +before. Beneath the sky was no ship so rich or precious, for there was +not a sail but was spun of silk, and not a plank, from keel to mast, +but showed of ebony. Too fair was the nave for mortal man, and Gugemar +held it in sore displeasure. He marvelled greatly from what country it +had come, and wondered long concerning this harbour, and the ship that +lay therein. Gugemar got him down from his horse upon the shore, and +with mighty pain and labour climbed within the ship. He trusted to +find merchantmen and sailors therein, but there was none to guard, and +none he saw. Now within the pavilion was a very rich bed, carved by +cunning workmen in the days of King Solomon. This fair bed was wrought +of cypress wood and white ivory, adorned with gold and gems most +precious. Right sweet were the linen cloths upon the bed, and so soft +the pillow, that he who lay thereon would sleep, were he sadder than +any other in the world. The counterpane was of purple from the vats +of Alexandria, and over all was set a right fair coverlet of cloth of +gold. The pavilion was litten by two great waxen torches, placed in +candlesticks of fine gold, decked with jewels worth a lord's ransom. +So the wounded knight looked on ship and pavilion, bed and candle, and +marvelled greatly. Gugemar sat him down upon the bed for a little, +because of the anguish of his wound. After he had rested a space he +got upon his feet, that he might quit the vessel, but he found that +for him there was no return. A gentle wind had filled the sails, and +already he was in the open sea. When Gugemar saw that he was far from +land, he was very heavy and sorrowful. He knew not what to do, by +reason of the mightiness of his hurt. But he must endure the adventure +as best he was able; so he prayed to God to take him in His keeping, +and in His good pleasure to bring him safe to port, and deliver him +from the peril of death. Then climbing upon the couch, he laid his +head upon the pillow, and slept as one dead, until, with vespers, the +ship drew to that haven where he might find the healing for his hurt. + +Gugemar had come to an ancient city, where the King of that realm held +his court and state. This King was full of years, and was wedded to +a dame of high degree. The lady was of tender age, passing fresh and +fair, and sweet of speech to all. Therefore was the King jealous of +his wife beyond all measure. Such is the wont of age, for much it +fears that old and young cannot mate together, and that youth will +turn to youth. This is the death in life of the old. + +The castle of this ancient lord had a mighty keep. Beneath this tower +was a right fair orchard, together with a close, shut in by a wall of +green marble, very strong and high. This wall had one only gate, and +the door was watched of warders, both night and day. On the other side +of this garden was the sea, so that none might do his errand in the +castle therefrom, save in a boat. To hold his dame in the greater +surety, the King had built a bower within the wall; there was no +fairer chamber beneath the sun. The first room was the Queen's chapel. +Beyond this was the lady's bedchamber, painted all over with shapes +and colours most wonderful to behold. On one wall might be seen Dame +Venus, the goddess of Love, sweetly flushed as when she walked the +water, lovely as life, teaching men how they should bear them in loyal +service to their lady. On another wall, the goddess threw Ovid's book +within a fire of coals. A scroll issuing from her lips proclaimed that +those who read therein, and strove to ease them of their pains, would +find from her neither service nor favour. In this chamber the lady was +put in ward, and with her a certain maiden to hold her company. This +damsel was her niece, since she was her sister's child, and there was +great love betwixt the twain. When the Queen walked within the garden, +or went abroad, this maiden was ever by her side, and came again with +her to the house. Save this damsel, neither man nor woman entered in +the bower, nor issued forth from out the wall. One only man possessed +the key of the postern, an aged priest, very white and frail. This +priest recited the service of God within the chapel, and served the +Queen's plate and cup when she ate meat at table. + +Now, on a day, the Queen had fallen asleep after meat, and on her +awaking would walk a little in the garden. She called her companion to +her, and the two went forth to be glad amongst the flowers. As they +looked across the sea they marked a ship drawing near the land, rising +and falling upon the waves. Very fearful was the Queen thereat, for +the vessel came to anchorage, though there was no helmsman to direct +her course. The dame's face became sanguine for dread, and she turned +her about to flee, because of her exceeding fear. Her maiden, who was +of more courage than she, stayed her mistress with many comforting +words. For her part she was very desirous to know what this thing +meant. She hastened to the shore, and laying aside her mantle, climbed +within this wondrous vessel. Thereon she found no living soul, save +only the knight sleeping fast within the pavilion. The damsel looked +long upon the knight, for pale he was as wax, and well she deemed +him dead. She returned forthwith to the Queen, and told her of this +marvel, and of the good knight who was slain. + +"Let us go together on the ship," replied the lady. "If he be dead we +may give him fitting burial, and the priest shall pray meetly for his +soul. Should he be yet alive perchance he will speak, and tell us of +his case." + +Without more tarrying the two damsels mounted on the ship, the lady +before, and her maiden following after. When the Queen entered in the +pavilion she stayed her feet before the bed, for joy and grief of what +she saw. She might not refrain her eyes from gazing on the knight, +for her heart was ravished with his beauty, and she sorrowed beyond +measure, because of his grievous hurt. To herself she said, "In a bad +hour cometh the goodly youth." She drew near the bed, and placing her +hand upon his breast, found that the flesh was warm, and that the +heart beat strongly in his side. Gugemar awoke at the touch, and +saluted the dame as sweetly as he was able, for well he knew that he +had come to a Christian land. The lady, full of thought, returned him +his salutation right courteously, though the tears were yet in her +eyes. Straightway she asked of him from what realm he came, and of +what people, and in what war he had taken his hurt. + +"Lady," answered Gugemar, "in no battle I received this wound. If it +pleases you to hear my tale I will tell you the truth, and in nothing +will I lie. I am a knight of Little Brittany. Yesterday I chased a +wonderful white deer within the forest. The shaft with which I struck +her to my hurt, returned again on me, and caused this wound upon my +thigh, which may never be searched, nor made whole. For this wondrous +Beast raised her plaint in a mortal tongue. She cursed me loudly, with +many evil words, swearing that never might this sore be healed, save +by one only damsel in the world, and her I know not where to find. +When I heard my luckless fate I left the wood with what speed I might, +and coming to a harbour, not far from thence, I lighted on this ship. +For my sins I climbed therein. Then without oars or helm this boat +ravished me from shore; so that I know not where I have come, nor what +is the name of this city. Fair lady, for God's love, counsel me of +your good grace, for I know not where to turn, nor how to govern the +ship." + +The lady made answer, "Fair sir, willingly shall I give you such good +counsel as I may. This realm and city are the appanage of my husband. +He is a right rich lord, of high lineage, but old and very full of +years. Also he is jealous beyond all measure; therefore it is that I +see you now. By reason of his jealousy he has shut me fast between +high walls, entered by one narrow door, with an ancient priest to keep +the key. May God requite him for his deed. Night and day I am guarded +in this prison, from whence I may never go forth, without the +knowledge of my lord. Here are my chamber and my chapel, and here I +live, with this, my maiden, to bear me company. If it pleases you to +dwell here for a little, till you may pass upon your way, right gladly +we shall receive you, and with a good heart we will tend your wound, +till you are healed." + +When Gugemar heard this speech he rejoiced greatly. He thanked the +lady with many sweet words, and consented to sojourn in her hall +awhile. He raised himself upon his couch, and by the courtesy of the +damsels left the ship. Leaning heavily upon the lady, at the end he +won to her maiden's chamber, where there was a fair bed covered with a +rich dossal of broidered silk, edged with fur. When he was entered in +this bed, the damsels came bearing clear water in basins of gold, for +the cleansing of his hurt. They stanched the blood with a towel of +fine linen, and bound the wound strictly, to his exceeding comfort. So +after the vesper meal was eaten, the lady departed to her own chamber, +leaving the knight in much ease and content. + +Now Gugemar set his love so fondly upon the lady that he forgot his +father's house. He thought no more of the anguish of his hurt, because +of another wound that was beneath his breast. He tossed and sighed in +his unrest, and prayed the maiden of his service to depart, so that +he might sleep a little. When the maid was gone, Gugemar considered +within himself whether he might seek the dame, to know whether her +heart was warmed by any ember of the flame that burned in his. He +turned it this way and that, and knew not what to do. This only was +clear, that if the lady refused to search his wound, death, for him, +was sure and speedy. + +"Alas," said he, "what shall I do! Shall I go to my lady, and pray her +pity on the wretch who has none to give him counsel? If she refuse +my prayer, because of her hardness and pride, I shall know there is +nought for me but to die in my sorrow, or, at least, to go heavily all +the days of my life." + +Then he sighed, and in his sighing lighted on a better purpose; for he +said within himself that doubtless he was born to suffer, and that +the best of him was tears. All the long night he spent in vigil and +groanings and watchfulness. To himself he told over her words and her +semblance. He remembered the eyes and the fair mouth of his lady, and +all the grace and the sweetness, which had struck like a knife at his +heart. Between his teeth he cried on her for pity, and for a little +more would have called her to his side. Ah, had he but known the fever +of the lady, and how terrible a lord to her was Love, how great had +been his joy and solace. His visage would have been the more sanguine, +which was now so pale of colour, because of the dolour that was his. +But if the knight was sick by reason of his love, the dame had small +cause to boast herself of health. The lady rose early from her bed, +since she might not sleep. She complained of her unrest, and of Love +who rode her so hardly. The maiden, who was of her company, saw +clearly enough that all her lady's thoughts were set upon the knight, +who, for his healing, sojourned in the chamber. She did not know +whether his thoughts were given again to the dame. When, therefore, +the lady had entered in the chapel, the damsel went straightway to the +knight. He welcomed her gladly, and bade her be seated near the bed. +Then he inquired, "Friend, where now is my lady, and why did she rise +so early from her bed?" + +Having spoken so far, he became silent, and sighed. + +"Sir," replied the maiden softly, "you love, and are discreet, but be +not too discreet therein. In such a love as yours there is nothing to +be ashamed. He who may win my lady's favour has every reason to be +proud of his fortune. Altogether seemly would be your friendship, for +you are young, and she is fair." + +The knight made answer to the maiden, "I am so fast in the snare, that +I pray the fowler to slay me, if she may not free me from the net. +Counsel me, fair sweet friend, if I may hope of kindness at her hand." + +Then the maiden of her sweetness comforted the knight, and assured him +of all the good that she was able. So courteous and debonair was the +maid. + +When the lady had heard Mass, she hastened back to the chamber. She +had not forgotten her friend, and greatly she desired to know whether +he was awake or asleep, of whom her heart was fain. She bade her +maiden to summon him to her chamber, for she had a certain thing in +her heart to show him at leisure, were it for the joy or the sorrow of +their days. + +Gugemar saluted the lady, and the dame returned the knight his +courtesy, but their hearts were too fearful for speech. The knight +dared ask nothing of his lady, for reason that he was a stranger in a +strange land, and was adread to show her his love. But--as says the +proverb--he who will not tell of his sore, may not hope for balm to +his hurt. Love is a privy wound within the heart, and none knoweth of +that bitterness but the heart alone. Love is an evil which may last +for a whole life long, because of man and his constant heart. Many +there be who make of Love a gibe and a jest, and with specious words +defame him by boastful tales. But theirs is not love. Rather it is +folly and lightness, and the tune of a merry song. But let him who +has found a constant lover prize her above rubies, and serve her with +loyal service, being altogether at her will. Gugemar loved in this +fashion, and therefore Love came swiftly to his aid. Love put words in +his mouth, and courage in his heart, so that his hope might be made +plain. + +"Lady," said he, "I die for your love. I am in fever because of my +wound, and if you care not to heal my hurt I would rather die. Fair +friend, I pray you for grace. Do not gainsay me with evil words." + +The lady hearkened with a smile to Gugemar's speech. Right daintily +and sweetly she replied, "Friend, yea is not a word of two letters. I +do not grant such a prayer every day of the week, and must you have +your gift so quickly?" + +"Lady," cried he, "for God's sake pity me, and take it not amiss. She, +who loves lightly, may make her lover pray for long, so that she may +hide how often her feet have trodden the pathway with another friend. +But the honest dame, when she has once given her heart to a friend, +will not deny his wish because of pride. The rather she will find her +pride in humbleness, and love him again with the same love he has +set on her. So they will be glad together, and since none will have +knowledge or hearing of the matter, they will rejoice in their youth. +Fair, sweet lady, be this thy pleasure?" + +When the lady heard these words well she found them honest and true. +Therefore without further prayings and ado she granted Gugemar her +love and her kiss. Henceforward Gugemar lived greatly at his ease, for +he had sight and speech of his friend, and many a time she granted him +her embrace and tenderness, as is the wont of lovers when alone. + +For a year and a half Gugemar dwelt with his lady, in solace and great +delight. Then Fortune turned her wheel, and in a trice cast those +down, whose seat had been so high. Thus it chanced to them, for they +were spied upon and seen. + +On a morning in summer time the Queen and the damoiseau sat fondly +together. The knight embraced her, eyes and face, but the lady stayed +him, saying, "Fair sweet friend, my heart tells me that I shall lose +you soon, for this hidden thing will quickly be made clear. If you are +slain, may the same sword kill me. But if you win forth, well I know +that you will find another love, and that I shall be left alone with +my thoughts. Were I parted from you, may God give me neither joy, nor +rest, nor peace, if I would seek another friend. Of that you need have +no fear. Friend, for surety and comfort of my heart deliver me now +some sark of thine. Therein I will set a knot, and make this covenant +with you, that never will you put your love on dame or maiden, save +only on her who shall first unfasten this knot. Then you will ever +keep faith with me, for so cunning shall be my craft, that no woman +may hope to unravel that coil, either by force or guile, or even with +her knife." + +So the knight rendered the sark to his lady, and made such bargain as +she wished, for the peace and assurance of her mind. + +For his part the knight took a fair girdle, and girt it closely about +the lady's middle. Right secret was the clasp and buckle of this +girdle. Therefore he required of the dame that she would never grant +her love, save to him only, who might free her from the strictness of +this bond, without injury to band or clasp. Then they kissed together, +and entered into such covenant as you have heard. + +That very day their hidden love was made plain to men. A certain +chamberlain was sent by that ancient lord with a message to the Queen. +This unlucky wretch, finding that in no wise could he enter within the +chamber, looked through the window, and saw. Forthwith he hastened +to the King, and told him that which he had seen. When the agèd lord +understood these words, never was there a sadder man than he. He +called together the most trusty sergeants of his guard, and coming +with them to the Queen's chamber, bade them to thrust in the door. +When Gugemar was found therein, the King commanded that he should be +slain with the sword, by reason of the anguish that was his. Gugemar +was in no whit dismayed by the threat. He started to his feet, and +gazing round, marked a stout rod of fir, on which it is the use for +linen to be hung. This he took in hand, and faced his foes, bidding +them have a care, for he would do a mischief to them all. The King +looked earnestly upon the fearless knight, inquiring of him who he +was, and where he was born, and in what manner he came to dwell within +his house. So Gugemar told over to him this story of his fate. He +showed him of the Beast that he had wounded to his hurt; of the nave, +and of his bitter wound; of how he came within the realm, and of the +lady's surgery. He told all to the ancient lord, to the last moment +when he stood within his power. The King replied that he gave no +credence to his word, nor believed that the story ran as he had said. +If, however, the vessel might be found, he would commit the knight +again to the waves. He would go the more heavily for the knight's +saining, and a glad day would it be if he made shipwreck at sea. When +they had entered into this covenant together, they went forth to the +harbour, and there discovered the barge, even as Gugemar had said. So +they set him thereon, and prayed him to return unto his own realm. + +Without sail or oar the ship parted from that coast, with no further +tarrying. The knight wept and wrung his hands, complaining of his +lady's loss, and of her cherishing. He prayed the mighty God to grant +him speedy death, and never to bring him home, save to meet again +with her who was more desirable than life. Whilst he was yet at his +orisons, the ship drew again to that port, from whence she had first +come. Gugemar made haste to get him from the vessel, so that he might +the more swiftly return to his own land. He had gone but a little way +when he was aware of a squire of his household, riding in the company +of a certain knight. This squire held the bridle of a destrier in his +hand, though no man rode thereon. Gugemar called to him by name, so +that the varlet looking upon him, knew again his lord. He got him to +his feet, and bringing the destrier to his master, set the knight +thereon. Great was the joy, and merry was the feast, when Gugemar +returned to his own realm. But though his friends did all that they +were able, neither song nor game could cheer the knight, nor turn him +from dwelling in his unhappy thoughts. For peace of mind they urged +that he took to himself a wife, but Gugemar would have none of their +counsel. Never would he wed a wife, on any day, either for love or for +wealth, save only that she might first unloose the knot within his +shirt. When this news was noised about the country, there was neither +dame nor damsel in the realm of Brittany, but essayed to unfasten the +knot. But there was no lady who could gain to her wish, whether by +force or guile. + +Now will I show of that lady, whom Gugemar so fondly loved. By the +counsel of a certain baron the ancient King set his wife in prison. +She was shut fast in a tower of grey marble, where her days were bad, +and her nights worse. No man could make clear to you the great pain, +the anguish and the dolour, that she suffered in this tower, wherein, +I protest, she died daily. Two years and more she lay bound in prison, +where warders came, but never joy or delight. Often she thought upon +her friend. + +"Gugemar, dear lord, in an evil hour I saw you with my eyes. Better +for me that I die quickly, than endure longer my evil lot. Fair +friend, if I could but win to that coast whence you sailed, very +swiftly would I fling myself in the sea, and end my wretched life." +When she had said these words she rose to her feet, and coming to +the door was amazed to find therein neither bolt nor key. She issued +forth, without challenge from sergeant or warder, and hastening to the +harbour, found there her lover's ship, made fast to that very rock, +from which she would cast her down. When she saw the barge she climbed +thereon, but presently bethought her that on this nave her friend had +gone to perish in the sea. At this thought she would have fled again +to the shore, but her bones were as water, and she fell upon the deck. +So in sore travail and sorrow, the vessel carried her across the +waves, to a port of Brittany, guarded by a castle, strong and very +fair. Now the lord of this castle was named Meriadus. He was a right +warlike prince, and had made him ready to fight with the prince of a +country near by. He had risen very early in the morning, to send forth +a great company of spears, the more easily to ravage this neighbour's +realm. Meriadus looked forth from his window, and marked the ship +which came to port. He hastened down the steps of the perron, and +calling to his chamberlain, came with what speed he might to the nave. +Then mounting the ladder he stood upon the deck. When Meriadus found +within the ship a dame, who for beauty seemed rather a fay than a mere +earthly woman, he seized her by her mantle, and brought her swiftly to +his keep. Right joyous was he because of his good fortune, for lovely +was the lady beyond mortal measure. He made no question as to who had +set her on the barge. He knew only that she was fair, and of high +lineage, and that his heart turned towards her with so hot a love as +never before had he put on dame or damsel. Now there dwelt within the +castle a sister of this lord, who was yet unwed. Meriadus bestowed the +lady in his sister's chamber, because it was the fairest in the tower. +Moreover he commanded that she should be meetly served, and held +in all reverence. But though the dame was so richly clothed and +cherished, ever was she sad and deep in thought. Meriadus came often +to cheer her with mirth and speech, by reason that he wished to gain +her love as a free gift, and not by force. It was in vain that he +prayed her for grace, since she had no balm for his wound. For answer +she showed him the girdle about her body, saying that never would she +give her love to man, save only to him who might unloose the buckle of +that girdle, without harm to belt or clasp. When Meriadus heard these +words, he spoke in haste and said, + +"Lady, there dwells in this country a very worthy knight, who will +take no woman as wife, except she first untie a certain crafty knot in +the hem of a shirt, and that without force or knife. For a little I +would wager that it was you who tied this knot." + +When the lady heard thereof her breath went from her, and near she +came to falling on the ground. Meriadus caught her in his arms, and +cut the laces of her bodice, that she might have the more air. He +strove to unfasten her girdle, but might not dissever the clasp. Yea, +though every knight in the realm essayed to unfasten that cincture, it +would not yield, except to one alone. + +Now Meriadus made the lists ready for a great jousting, and called to +that tournament all the knights who would aid him in his war. Many a +lord came at his bidding, and with them Gugemar, amongst the first. +Meriadus had sent letters to the knight, beseeching him, as friend and +companion, not to fail him in this business. So Gugemar hastened to +the need of his lord, and at his back more than one hundred spears. +All these Meriadus welcomed very gladly, and gave them lodging within +his tower. In honour of his guest, the prince sent two gentlemen to +his sister, praying her to attire herself richly, and come to hall, +together with the dame whom he loved so dearly well. These did as they +were bidden, and arrayed in their sweetest vesture, presently entered +in the hall, holding each other by the hand. Very pale and pensive was +the lady, but when she heard her lover's name her feet failed beneath +her, and had not the maiden held her fast, she would have fallen on +the floor. Gugemar rose from his seat at the sight of the dame, her +fashion and her semblance, and stood staring upon her. He went a +little apart, and said within himself, "Can this be my sweet friend, +my hope, my heart, my life, the fair lady who gave me the grace of her +love? From whence comes she; who might have brought her to this far +land? But I speak in my folly, for well I know that this is not my +dear. A little red, a little white, and all women are thus shapen. +My thoughts are troubled, by reason that the sweetness of this lady +resembles the sweetness of that other, for whom my heart sighs and +trembles. Yet needs must that I have speech of the lady." + +Gugemar drew near to the dame. He kissed her courteously, and found +no word to utter, save to pray that he might be seated at her side. +Meriadus spied upon them closely, and was the more heavy because of +their trouble. Therefore he feigned mirth. + +"Gugemar, dear lord, if it pleases you, let this damsel essay to untie +the knot of your sark, if so be she may loosen the coil." + +Gugemar made answer that very willingly he would do this thing. He +called to him a squire who had the shirt in keeping, and bade him seek +his charge, and deliver it to the dame. The lady took the sark in +hand. Well she knew the knot that she had tied so cunningly, and was +so willing to unloose; but for reason of the trouble at her heart, she +did not dare essay. Meriadus marked the distress of the damsel, and +was more sorrowful than ever was lover before. + +"Lady," said he, "do all that you are able to unfasten this coil." + +So at his commandment she took again to her the hem of the shirt, and +lightly and easily unravelled the tie. + +Gugemar marvelled greatly when he saw this thing. His heart told him +that of a truth this was his lady, but he could not give faith to his +eyes. + +"Friend, are you indeed the sweet comrade I have known? Tell me truly +now, is there about your body the girdle with which I girt you in your +own realm?" + +He set his hands to her waist, and found that the secret belt was yet +about her sides. + + +"Fair sweet friend, tell me now by what adventure I find you here, and +who has brought you to this tower?" + +So the lady told over to her friend the pain and the anguish and the +dolour of the prison in which she was held; of how it chanced that she +fled from her dungeon, and lighting upon a ship, entered therein, and +came to this fair haven; of how Meriadus took her from the barge, but +kept her in all honour, save only that ever he sought for her love; +"but now, fair friend, all is well, for you hold your lady in your +arms." + +Gugemar stood upon his feet, and beckoned with his hand. + +"Lords," he cried, "hearken now to me. I have found my friend, whom +I have lost for a great while. Before you all I pray and require of +Meriadus to yield me my own. For this grace I give him open thanks. +Moreover I will kneel down, and become his liege man. For two years, +or three, if he will, I will bargain to serve in his quarrels, and +with me, of riders, a hundred or more at my back." + +Then answered Meriadus, "Gugemar, fair friend, I am not yet so shaken +or overborne in war, that I must do as you wish, right humbly. This +woman is my captive. I found her: I hold her: and I will defend my +right against you and all your power." + +When Gugemar heard these proud words he got to horse speedily, him and +all his company. He threw down his glove, and parted in anger from +the tower. But he went right heavily, since he must leave behind his +friend. In his train rode all those knights who had drawn together +to that town for the great tournament. Not a knight of them all but +plighted faith to follow where he led, and to hold himself recreant +and shamed if he failed his oath. + + +That same night the band came to the castle of the prince with whom +Meriadus was at war. He welcomed them very gladly, and gave them +lodging in his tower. By their aid he had good hope to bring this +quarrel to an end. Very early in the morning the host came together to +set the battle in array. With clash of mail and noise of horns they +issued from the city gate, Gugemar riding at their head. They drew +before the castle where Meriadus lay in strength, and sought to take +it by storm. But the keep was very strong, and Meriadus bore himself +as a stout and valiant knight. So Gugemar, like a wary captain, sat +himself down before the town, till all the folk of that place were +deemed by friend and sergeant to be weak with hunger. Then they took +that high keep with the sword, and burnt it with fire. The lord +thereof they slew in his own hall; but Gugemar came forth, after such +labours as you have heard, bearing his lady with him, to return in +peace to his own land. + +From this adventure that I have told you, has come the Lay that +minstrels chant to harp and viol--fair is that song and sweet the +tune. + + + + +III + + +THE LAY OF THE DOLOROUS KNIGHT + +Hearken now to the Lay that once I heard a minstrel chanting to his +harp. In surety of its truth I will name the city where this story +passed. The Lay of the Dolorous Knight, my harper called his song, +but of those who hearkened, some named it rather, The Lay of the Four +Sorrows. + +In Nantes, of Brittany, there dwelt a dame who was dearly held of +all, for reason of the much good that was found in her. This lady was +passing fair of body, apt in book as any clerk, and meetly schooled in +every grace that it becometh dame to have. So gracious of person was +this damsel, that throughout the realm there was no knight could +refrain from setting his heart upon her, though he saw her but one +only time. Although the demoiselle might not return the love of so +many, certainly she had no wish to slay them all. Better by far that +a man pray and require in love all the dames of his country, than run +mad in woods for the bright eyes of one. Therefore this dame gave +courtesy and good will to each alike. Even when she might not hear a +lover's words, so sweetly she denied his wish that the more he held +her dear and was the more her servant for that fond denial. So because +of her great riches of body and of heart, this lady of whom I tell, +was prayed and required in love by the lords of her country, both by +night and by day. + +Now in Brittany lived four young barons, but their names I cannot +tell. It is enough that they were desirable in the eyes of maidens for +reason of their beauty, and that men esteemed them because they were +courteous of manner and open of hand. Moreover they were stout and +hardy knights amongst the spears, and rich and worthy gentlemen of +those very parts. Each of these four knights had set his heart upon +the lady, and for love of her pained himself mightily, and did all +that he was able, so that by any means he might gain her favour. Each +prayed her privily for her love, and strove all that he could to make +him worthy of the gift, above his fellows. For her part the lady was +sore perplexed, and considered in her mind very earnestly, which of +these four knights she should take as friend. But since they all were +loyal and worthy gentlemen, she durst not choose amongst them; for +she would not slay three lovers with her hand so that one might have +content. Therefore to each and all, the dame made herself fair and +sweet of semblance. Gifts she gave to all alike. Tender messages she +sent to each. Every knight deemed himself esteemed and favoured above +his fellows, and by soft words and fair service diligently strove to +please. When the knights gathered together for the games, each of +these lords contended earnestly for the prize, so that he might be +first, and draw on him the favour of his dame. Each held her for his +friend. Each bore upon him her gift--pennon, or sleeve, or ring. Each +cried her name within the lists. + +Now when Eastertide was come, a great tournament was proclaimed to be +held beyond the walls of Nantes, that rich city. The four lovers were +the appellants in this tourney, and from every realm knights rode +to break a lance in honour of their dame. Frenchman and Norman and +Fleming; the hardiest knights of Brabant, Boulogne and Anjou; each +came to do his devoir in the field. Nor was the chivalry of Nantes +backward in this quarrel, but till the vespers of the tournament was +come, they stayed themselves within the lists, and struck stoutly for +their lord. After the four lovers had laced their harness upon them, +they issued forth from the city, followed by the knights who were of +their company in this adventure. But upon the four fell the burden of +the day, for they were known of all by the embroidered arms upon their +surcoat, and the device fashioned on the shield. Now against the four +lovers arrayed themselves four other knights, armed altogether in +coats of mail, and helmets and gauntlets of steel. Of these stranger +knights two were of Hainault, and the two others were Flemings. When +the four lovers saw their adversaries prepare themselves for the +combat, they had little desire to flee, but hastened to join them in +battle. Each lowered his spear, and choosing his enemy, met him so +eagerly that all men wondered, for horse and man fell to the earth. +The four lovers recked little of their destriers, but freeing their +feet from the stirrups bent over the fallen foe, and called on him to +yield. When the friends of the vanquished knights saw their case, +they hastened to their succour; so for their rescue there was a great +press, and many a mighty stroke with the sword. + +The damsel stood upon a tower to watch these feats of arms. By their +blazoned coats and shields she knew her knights; she saw their +marvellous deeds, yet might not say who did best, nor give to one the +praise. But the tournament was no longer a seemly and ordered battle. +The ranks of the two companies were confused together, so that every +man fought against his fellow, and none might tell whether he struck +his comrade or his foe. The four lovers did well and worshipfully, so +that all men deemed them worthy of the prize. But when evening was +come, and the sport drew to its close, their courage led them to +folly. Having ventured too far from their companions, they were set +upon by their adversaries, and assailed so fiercely that three were +slain outright. As to the fourth he yet lived, but altogether mauled +and shaken, for his thigh was broken, and a spear head remained in his +side. The four bodies were fallen on the field, and lay with those who +had perished in that day. But because of the great mischief these +four lovers had done their adversaries, their shields were cast +despitefully without the lists; but in this their foemen did +wrongfully, and all men held them in sore displeasure. + +Great were the lamentation and the cry when the news of this mischance +was noised about the city. Such a tumult of mourning was never before +heard, for the whole city was moved. All men hastened forth to the +place where the lists were set. Meetly to mourn the dead there rode +nigh upon two thousand knights, with hauberks unlaced, and uncovered +heads, plucking upon their beards. So the four lovers were placed each +upon his shield, and being brought back in honour to Nantes, were +carried to the house of that dame, whom so greatly they had loved. +When the lady knew this distressful adventure, straightway she fell +to the ground. Being returned from her swoon, she made her complaint, +calling upon her lovers each by his name. + +"Alas," said she, "what shall I do, for never shall I know happiness +again. These four knights had set their hearts upon me, and despite +their great treasure, esteemed my love as richer than all their +wealth. Alas, for the fair and valiant knight! Alas, for the loyal and +generous man! By gifts such as these they sought to gain my favour, +but how might lady bereave three of life, so as to cherish one. Even +now I cannot tell for whom I have most pity, or who was closest to my +mind. But three are dead, and one is sore stricken; neither is there +anything in the world which can bring me comfort. Only this is there +to do--to give the slain men seemly burial, and, if it may be, to heal +their comrade of his wounds." + +So, because of her great love and nobleness, the lady caused these +three distressful knights to be buried well and worshipfully in a +rich abbey. In that place she offered their Mass penny, and gave rich +offerings of silver and of lights besides. May God have mercy on them +in that day. As for the wounded knight she commanded him to be carried +to her own chamber. She sent for surgeons, and gave him into their +hands. These searched his wounds so skilfully, and tended him with so +great care, that presently his hurt commenced to heal. Very often was +the lady in the chamber, and very tenderly she cherished the stricken +man. Yet ever she felt pity for the three Knights of the Sorrows, and +ever she went heavily by reason of their deaths. + +Now on a summer's day, the lady and the knight sat together after +meat. She called to mind the sorrow that was hers; so that, in a +space, her head fell upon her breast, and she gave herself altogether +to her grief. The knight looked earnestly upon his dame. Well he might +see that she was far away, and clearly he perceived the cause. + +"Lady," said he, "you are in sorrow. Open now your grief to me. If you +tell me what is in your heart perchance I may find you comfort." + +"Fair friend," replied she, "I think of what is gone, and remember +your companions, who are dead. Never was lady of my peerage, however +fair and good and gracious, ever loved by four such valiant gentlemen, +nor ever lost them in one single day. Save you--who were so maimed and +in such peril--all are gone. Therefore I call to mind those who loved +me so dearly, and am the saddest lady beneath the sun. To remember +these things, of you four I shall make a Lay, and will call it the Lay +of the Four Sorrows." + +When the knight heard these words he made answer very swiftly, "Lady, +name it not the Lay of the Four Sorrows, but, rather, the Lay of the +Dolorous Knight. Would you hear the reason why it should bear this +name? My three comrades have finished their course; they have nothing +more to hope of their life. They are gone, and with them the pang of +their great sorrow, and the knowledge of their enduring love for you. +I alone have come, all amazed and fearful, from the net wherein they +were taken, but I find my life more bitter than my comrades found the +grave. I see you on your goings and comings about the house. I may +speak with you both matins and vespers. But no other joy do I get-- +neither clasp nor kiss, nothing but a few empty, courteous words. +Since all these evils are come upon me because of you, I choose death +rather than life. For this reason your Lay should bear my name, and be +called the Lay of the Dolorous Knight. He who would name it the Lay +of the Four Sorrows would name it wrongly, and not according to the +truth." + +"By my faith," replied the lady, "this is a fair saying. So shall the +song be known as the Lay of the Dolorous Knight." + +Thus was the Lay conceived, made perfect, and brought to a fair birth. +For this reason it came by its name; though to this day some call it +the Lay of the Four Sorrows. Either name befits it well, for the story +tells of both these matters, but it is the use and wont in this land +to call it the Lay of the Dolorous Knight. Here it ends; no more is +there to say. I heard no more, and nothing more I know. Perforce I +bring my story to a close. + + + + +IV + + +THE LAY OF ELIDUC + +Now will I rehearse before you a very ancient Breton Lay. As the tale +was told to me, so, in turn, will I tell it over again, to the best of +my art and knowledge. Hearken now to my story, its why and its reason. + +In Brittany there lived a knight, so courteous and so brave, that in +all the realm there was no worthier lord than he. This knight was +named Eliduc. He had wedded in his youth a noble lady of proud race +and name. They had long dwelt together in peace and content, for their +hearts were fixed on one another in faith and loyalty. Now it chanced +that Eliduc sought his fortune in a far land, where there was a great +war. There he loved a Princess, the daughter of the King and Queen of +those parts. Guillardun was the maiden's name, and in all the realm +was none more fair. The wife of Eliduc had to name, Guildeluec, in her +own country. By reason of these two ladies their story is known as the +Lay of Guildeluec and Guillardun, but at first it was rightly called +the Lay of Eliduc. The name is a little matter; but if you hearken to +me you shall learn the story of these three lovers, in its pity and +its truth. + +Eliduc had as lord and suzerain, the King of Brittany over Sea. The +knight was greatly loved and cherished of his prince, by reason of his +long and loyal service. When the King's business took him from his +realm, Eliduc was his master's Justice and Seneschal. He governed the +country well and wisely, and held it from the foe with a strong hand. +Nevertheless, in spite of all, much evil was appointed unto him. +Eliduc was a mighty hunter, and by the King's grace, he would chase +the stag within the woods. He was cunning and fair as Tristan, and +so wise in venery, that the oldest forester might not gainsay him in +aught concerning the shaw. But by reason of malice and envy, certain +men accused him to the King that he had meddled with the royal +pleasaunce. The King bade Eliduc to avoid his Court. He gave no reason +for his commandment, and the knight might learn nothing of the cause. +Often he prayed the King that he might know whereof he was accused. +Often he begged his lord not to heed the specious and crafty words of +his foes. He called to mind the wounds he had gained in his master's +wars, but was answered never a word. When Eliduc found that he might +get no speech with his lord, it became his honour to depart. He +returned to his house, and calling his friends around him, opened +out to them this business of the King's wrath, in recompense for his +faithful service. + +"I did not reckon on a King's gratitude; but as the proverb says, it +is useless for a farmer to dispute with the horse in his plough. The +wise and virtuous man keeps faith to his lord, and bears goodwill to +his neighbour, not for what he may receive in return." + +Then the knight told his friends that since he might no longer stay in +his own country, he should cross the sea to the realm of Logres, and +sojourn there awhile, for his solace. His fief he placed in the hands +of his wife, and he required of his men, and of all who held him dear, +that they would serve her loyally. Having given good counsel to the +utmost of his power, the knight prepared him for the road. Right heavy +were his friends and kin, that he must go forth from amongst them. + +Eliduc took with him ten knights of his household, and set out on his +journey. His dame came with him so far as she was able, wringing her +hands, and making much sorrow, at the departure of her husband. At the +end he pledged good faith to her, as she to him, and so she returned +to her own home. Eliduc went his way, till he came to a haven on the +sea. He took ship, and sailed to the realm of Totenois, for many kings +dwell in that country, and ever there were strife and war. Now, near +to Exeter, in this land, there dwelt a King, right rich and strong, +but old and very full of years. He had no son of his body, but one +maid only, young, and of an age to wed. Since he would not bestow this +damsel on a certain prince of his neighbours, this lord made mortal +war upon his fellow, spoiling and wasting all his land. The ancient +King, for surety, had set his daughter within a castle, fair and very +strong. He had charged the sergeants not to issue forth from the +gates, and for the rest there was none so bold as to seek to storm the +keep, or even to joust about the barriers. When Eliduc was told of +this quarrel, he needed to go no farther, and sojourned for awhile +in the land. He turned over in his mind which of these princes dealt +unjustly with his neighbour. Since he deemed that the agèd king was +the more vexed and sorely pressed in the matter, he resolved to aid +him to the best of his might, and to take arms in his service. Eliduc, +therefore, wrote letters to the King, telling him that he had quitted +his own country, and sought refuge in the King's realm. For his part +he was willing to fight as a mercenary in the King's quarrel, and if a +safe conduct were given him, he and the knights of his company would +ride, forthwith, to their master's aid. This letter, Eliduc sent by +the hands of his squires to the King. When the ancient lord had read +the letter, he rejoiced greatly, and made much of the messengers. He +summoned his constable, and commanded him swiftly to write out the +safe conduct, that would bring the baron to his side. For the rest he +bade that the messengers meetly should be lodged and apparelled, and +that such money should be given them as would be sufficient to their +needs. Then he sealed the safe conduct with his royal seal, and sent +it to Eliduc, straightway, by a sure hand. + +When Eliduc came in answer to the summons, he was received with great +honour by the King. His lodging was appointed in the house of a grave +and courteous burgess of the city, who bestowed the fairest chamber on +his guest. Eliduc fared softly, both at bed and board. He called to +his table such good knights as were in misease, by reason of prison or +of war. He charged his men that none should be so bold as to take pelf +or penny from the citizens of the town, during the first forty days of +their sojourn. But on the third day, it was bruited about the streets, +that the enemy were near at hand. The country folk deemed that they +approached to invest the city, and to take the gates by storm. When +the noise and clamour of the fearful burgesses came to the ears of +Eliduc, he and his company donned their harness, and got to horse, +as quickly as they might. Forty horsemen mounted with him; as to the +rest, many lay sick or hurt within the city, and others were captives +in the hands of the foe. These forty stout sergeants waited for no +sounding of trumpets; they hastened to seek their captain at his +lodging, and rode at his back through the city gate. + +"Sir," said they, "where you go, there we will follow, and what you +bid us, that shall we do." + +"Friends," made answer the knight, "I thank you for your fellowship. +There is no man amongst us but who wishes to molest the foe, and do +them all the mischief that he is able. If we await them in the town, +we defend ourselves with the shield, and not with the sword. To my +mind it is better to fall in the field than to hide behind walls; but +if any of you have a wiser counsel to offer, now let him speak." + +"Sir," replied a soldier of the company, "through the wood, in good +faith, there runs a path, right strict and narrow. It is the wont of +the enemy to approach our city by this track. After their deeds of +arms before the walls, it is their custom to return by the way they +came, helmet on saddle bow, and hauberk unbraced. If we might catch +them, unready in the path, we could trouble them very grievously, even +though it be at the peril of our lives." + +"Friends," answered Eliduc, "you are all the King's men, and are bound +to serve him faithfully, even to the death. Come, now, with me where +I will go, and do that thing which you shall see me do. I give you my +word as a loyal gentleman, that no harm shall hap to any. If we gain +spoil and riches from the foe, each shall have his lot in the ransom. +At the least we may do them much hurt and mischief in this quarrel." + +Eliduc set his men in ambush, near by that path, within the wood. He +told over to them, like a cunning captain, the crafty plan he had +devised, and taught them how to play their parts, and to call upon +his name. When the foe had entered on that perilous path, and were +altogether taken in the snare, Eliduc cried his name, and summoned his +companions to bear themselves like men. This they did stoutly, and +assailed their enemy so fiercely that he was dismayed beyond measure, +and his line being broken, fled to the forest. In this fight was the +constable taken, together with fifty and five other lords, who owned +themselves prisoners, and were given to the keeping of the squires. +Great was the spoil in horse and harness, and marvellous was the +wealth they gained in gold and ransom. So having done such great deeds +in so short a space, they returned to the city, joyous and content. + +The King looked forth from a tower. He feared grievously for his men, +and made his complaint of Eliduc, who--he deemed--had betrayed him in +his need. Upon the road he saw a great company, charged and laden with +spoil. Since the number of those who returned was more than those who +went forth, the king knew not again his own. He came down from the +tower, in doubt and sore trouble, bidding that the gates should be +made fast, and that men should mount upon the walls. For such coil as +this, there was slender warrant. A squire who was sent out, came back +with all speed, and showed him of this adventure. He told over the +story of the ambush, and the tale of the prisoners. He rehearsed how +the constable was taken, and that many a knight was wounded, and many +a brave man slain. When the King might give credence thereto, he had +more joy than ever king before. He got him from his tower, and going +before Eliduc, he praised him to his face, and rendered him the +captives as a gift. Eliduc gave the King's bounty to his men. He +bestowed on them besides, all the harness and the spoil; keeping, for +his part, but three knights, who had won much honour in the battle. +From this day the King loved and cherished Eliduc very dearly. He held +the knight, and his company, for a full year in his service, and at +the end of the year, such faith had he in the knight's loyalty, that +he appointed him Seneschal and Constable of his realm. + +Eliduc was not only a brave and wary captain; he was also a courteous +gentleman, right goodly to behold. + +That fair maiden, the daughter of the King, heard tell of his deeds, +and desired to see his face, because of the good men spake of him. She +sent her privy chamberlain to the knight, praying him to come to her +house, that she might solace herself with the story of his deeds, for +greatly she wondered that he had no care for her friendship. Eliduc +gave answer to the chamberlain that he would ride forthwith, since +much he desired to meet so high a dame. He bade his squire to saddle +his destrier, and rode to the palace, to have speech with the lady. +Eliduc stood without the lady's chamber, and prayed the chamberlain to +tell the dame that he had come, according to her wish. The chamberlain +came forth with a smiling face, and straightway led him in the +chamber. When the princess saw the knight, she cherished him very +sweetly, and welcomed him in the most honourable fashion. The knight +gazed upon the lady, who was passing fair to see. He thanked her +courteously, that she was pleased to permit him to have speech with so +high a princess. Guillardun took Eliduc by the hand, and seated him +upon the bed, near her side. They spake together of many things, for +each found much to say. The maiden looked closely upon the knight, his +face and semblance; to her heart she said that never before had she +beheld so comely a man. Her eyes might find no blemish in his person, +and Love knocked upon her heart, requiring her to love, since her time +had come. She sighed, and her face lost its fair colour; but she cared +only to hide her trouble from the knight, lest he should think her the +less maidenly therefore. When they had talked together for a great +space, Eliduc took his leave, and went his way. The lady would have +kept him longer gladly, but since she did not dare, she allowed him +to depart. Eliduc returned to his lodging, very pensive and deep in +thought. He called to mind that fair maiden, the daughter of his +King, who so sweetly had bidden him to her side, and had kissed him +farewell, with sighs that were sweeter still. He repented him right +earnestly that he had lived so long a while in the land without +seeking her face, but promised that often he would enter her palace +now. Then he remembered the wife whom he had left in his own house. He +recalled the parting between them, and the covenant he made, that good +faith and stainless honour should be ever betwixt the twain. But the +maiden, from whom he came, was willing to take him as her knight! If +such was her will, might any pluck him from her hand? + +All night long, that fair maiden, the daughter of the King, had +neither rest nor sleep. She rose up, very early in the morning, and +commanding her chamberlain, opened out to him all that was in her +heart. She leaned her brow against the casement. + +"By my faith," she said, "I am fallen into a deep ditch, and sorrow +has come upon me. I love Eliduc, the good knight, whom my father made +his Seneschal. I love him so dearly that I turn the whole night upon +my bed, and cannot close my eyes, nor sleep. If he assured me of his +heart, and loved me again, all my pleasure should be found in his +happiness. Great might be his profit, for he would become King of this +realm, and little enough is it for his deserts, so courteous is he and +wise. If he have nothing better than friendship to give me, I choose +death before life, so deep is my distress." + +When the princess had spoken what it pleased her to say, the +chamberlain, whom she had bidden, gave her loyal counsel. + +"Lady," said he, "since you have set your love upon this knight, send +him now--if so it please you--some goodly gift-girdle or scarf or +ring. If he receive the gift with delight, rejoicing in your favour, +you may be assured that he loves you. There is no Emperor, under +Heaven, if he were tendered your tenderness, but would go the more +lightly for your grace." + +The damsel hearkened to the counsel of her chamberlain, and made +reply, "If only I knew that he desired my love! Did ever maiden woo +her knight before, by asking whether he loved or hated her? What if he +make of me a mock and a jest in the ears of his friends! Ah, if the +secrets of the heart were but written on the face! But get you ready, +for go you must, at once." + +"Lady," answered the chamberlain, "I am ready to do your bidding." + +"You must greet the knight a hundred times in my name, and will place +my girdle in his hand, and this my golden ring." + +When the chamberlain had gone upon his errand, the maiden was so +sick at heart, that for a little she would have bidden him return. +Nevertheless, she let him go his way, and eased her shame with words. + +"Alas, what has come upon me, that I should put my heart upon a +stranger. I know nothing of his folk, whether they be mean or high; +nor do I know whether he will part as swiftly as he came. I have done +foolishly, and am worthy of blame, since I have bestowed my love very +lightly. I spoke to him yesterday for the first time, and now I pray +him for his love. Doubtless he will make me a song! Yet if he be the +courteous gentleman I believe him, he will understand, and not deal +hardly with me. At least the dice are cast, and if he may not love me, +I shall know myself the most woeful of ladies, and never taste of joy +all the days of my life." + + +Whilst the maiden lamented in this fashion, the chamberlain hastened +to the lodging of Eliduc. He came before the knight, and having +saluted him in his lady's name, he gave to his hand the ring and the +girdle. The knight thanked him earnestly for the gifts. He placed the +ring upon his finger, and the girdle he girt about his body. He said +no more to the chamberlain, nor asked him any questions; save only +that he proffered him a gift. This the messenger might not have, and +returned the way he came. The chamberlain entered in the palace and +found the princess within her chamber. He greeted her on the part of +the knight, and thanked her for her bounty. + +"Diva, diva," cried the lady hastily, "hide nothing from me; does he +love me, or does he not?" + +"Lady," answered the chamberlain, "as I deem, he loves you, and truly. +Eliduc is no cozener with words. I hold him for a discreet and prudent +gentleman, who knows well how to hide what is in his heart. I gave him +greeting in your name, and granted him your gifts. He set the ring +upon his finger, and as to your girdle, he girt it upon him, and +belted it tightly about his middle. I said no more to him, nor he to +me; but if he received not your gifts in tenderness, I am the more +deceived. Lady, I have told you his words: I cannot tell you his +thoughts. Only, mark carefully what I am about to say. If Eliduc had +not a richer gift to offer, he would not have taken your presents at +my hand." + +"It pleases you to jest," said the lady. "I know well that Eliduc does +not altogether hate me. Since my only fault is to cherish him too +fondly, should he hate me, he would indeed be blameworthy. Never again +by you, or by any other, will I require him of aught, or look to him +for comfort. He shall see that a maiden's love is no slight thing, +lightly given, and lightly taken again--but, perchance, he will not +dwell in the realm so long as to know of the matter." + +"Lady, the knight has covenanted to serve the King, in all loyalty, +for the space of a year. You have full leisure to tell, whatever you +desire him to learn." + +When the maiden heard that Eliduc remained in the country, she +rejoiced very greatly. She was glad that the knight would sojourn +awhile in her city, for she knew naught of the torment he endured, +since first he looked upon her. He had neither peace nor delight, for +he could not get her from his mind. He reproached himself bitterly. +He called to remembrance the covenant he made with his wife, when he +departed from his own land, that he would never be false to his oath. +But his heart was a captive now, in a very strong prison. He desired +greatly to be loyal and honest, but he could not deny his love for the +maiden--Guillardun, so frank and so fair. + +Eliduc strove to act as his honour required. He had speech and sight +of the lady, and did not refuse her kiss and embrace. He never spoke +of love, and was diligent to offend in nothing. He was careful in +this, because he would keep faith with his wife, and would attempt no +matter against his King. Very grievously he pained himself, but at the +end he might do no more. Eliduc caused his horse to be saddled, and +calling his companions about him, rode to the castle to get audience +of the King. He considered, too, that he might see his lady, and learn +what was in her heart. It was the hour of meat, and the King having +risen from table, had entered in his daughter's chamber. The King was +at chess, with a lord who had but come from over-sea. The lady sat +near the board, to watch the movements of the game. When Eliduc came +before the prince, he welcomed him gladly, bidding him to seat himself +close at hand. Afterwards he turned to his daughter, and said, +"Princess, it becomes you to have a closer friendship with this lord, +and to treat him well and worshipfully. Amongst five hundred, there is +no better knight than he." + +When the maiden had listened demurely to her father's commandment, +there was no gayer lady than she. She rose lightly to her feet, and +taking the knight a little from the others, seated him at her side. +They remained silent, because of the greatness of their love. She did +not dare to speak the first, and to him the maid was more dreadful +than a knight in mail. At the end Eliduc thanked her courteously for +the gifts she had sent him; never was grace so precious and so kind. +The maiden made answer to the knight, that very dear to her was the +use he had found for her ring, and the girdle with which he had belted +his body. She loved him so fondly that she wished him for her husband. +If she might not have her wish, one thing she knew well, that she +would take no living man, but would die unwed. She trusted he would +not deny her hope. + +"Lady," answered the knight, "I have great joy in your love, and thank +you humbly for the goodwill you bear me. I ought indeed to be a +happy man, since you deign to show me at what price you value our +friendship. Have you remembered that I may not remain always in your +realm? I covenanted with the King to serve him as his man for the +space of one year. Perchance I may stay longer in his service, for I +would not leave him till his quarrel be ended. Then I shall return to +my own land; so, fair lady, you permit me to say farewell." + +The maiden made answer to her knight, "Fair friend, right sweetly I +thank you for your courteous speech. So apt a clerk will know, without +more words, that he may have of me just what he would. It becomes my +love to give faith to all you say." + +The two lovers spoke together no further; each was well assured of +what was in the other's heart. Eliduc rode back to his lodging, right +joyous and content. Often he had speech with his friend, and passing +great was the love which grew between the twain. + +Eliduc pressed on the war so fiercely that in the end he took captive +the King who troubled his lord, and had delivered the land from its +foes. He was greatly praised of all as a crafty captain in the field, +and a hardy comrade with the spear. The poor and the minstrel counted +him a generous knight. About this time that King, who had bidden +Eliduc avoid his realm, sought diligently to find him. He had sent +three messengers beyond the seas to seek his ancient Seneschal. A +strong enemy had wrought him much grief and loss. All his castles were +taken from him, and all his country was a spoil to the foe. Often and +sorely he repented him of the evil counsel to which he had given ear. +He mourned the absence of his mightiest knight, and drove from his +councils those false lords who, for malice and envy, had defamed him. +These he outlawed for ever from his realm. The King wrote letters to +Eliduc, conjuring him by the loving friendship that was once between +them, and summoning him as a vassal is required of his lord, to hasten +to his aid, in that his bitter need. When Eliduc heard these tidings +they pressed heavily upon him, by reason of the grievous love he bore +the dame. She, too, loved him with a woman's whole heart. Between the +two there was nothing but the purest love and tenderness. Never by +word or deed had they spoiled their friendship. To speak a little +closely together; to give some fond and foolish gift; this was the sum +of their love. In her wish and hope the maiden trusted to hold the +knight in her land, and to have him as her lord. Naught she deemed +that he was wedded to a wife beyond the sea. + +"Alas," said Eliduc, "I have loitered too long in this country, and +have gone astray. Here I have set my heart on a maiden, Guillardun, +the daughter of the King, and she, on me. If, now, we part, there is +no help that one, or both, of us, must die. Yet go I must. My lord +requires me by letters, and by the oath of fealty that I have sworn. +My own honour demands that I should return to my wife. I dare not +stay; needs must I go. I cannot wed my lady, for not a priest in +Christendom would make us man and wife. All things turn to blame. God, +what a tearing asunder will our parting be! Yet there is one who will +ever think me in the right, though I be held in scorn of all. I will +be guided by her wishes, and what she counsels that will I do. The +King, her sire, is troubled no longer by any war. First, I will go to +him, praying that I may return to my own land, for a little, because +of the need of my rightful lord. Then I will seek out the maiden, and +show her the whole business. She will tell me her desire, and I shall +act according to her wish." + +The knight hesitated no longer as to the path he should follow. He +went straight to the King, and craved leave to depart. He told him +the story of his lord's distress, and read, and placed in the King's +hands, the letters calling him back to his home. When the King had +read the writing, and knew that Eliduc purposed to depart, he was +passing sad and heavy. He offered the knight the third part of his +kingdom, with all the treasure that he pleased to ask, if he would +remain at his side. He offered these things to the knight--these, and +the gratitude of all his days besides. + +"Do not tempt me, sire," replied the knight. "My lord is in such +deadly peril, and his letters have come so great a way to require me, +that go I must to aid him in his need. When I have ended my task, I +will return very gladly, if you care for my services, and with me a +goodly company of knights to fight in your quarrels." + +The King thanked Eliduc for his words, and granted him graciously the +leave that he demanded. He gave him, moreover, all the goods of his +house; gold and silver, hound and horses, silken cloths, both rich and +fair, these he might have at his will. Eliduc took of them discreetly, +according to his need. Then, very softly, he asked one other gift. +If it pleased the King, right willingly would he say farewell to the +princess, before he went. The King replied that it was his pleasure, +too. He sent a page to open the door of the maiden's chamber, and to +tell her the knight's request. When she saw him, she took him by +the hand, and saluted him very sweetly. Eliduc was the more fain of +counsel than of claspings. He seated himself by the maiden's side, and +as shortly as he might, commenced to show her of the business. He had +done no more than read her of his letters, than her face lost its fair +colour, and near she came to swoon. When Eliduc saw her about to fall, +he knew not what he did, for grief. He kissed her mouth, once and +again, and wept above her, very tenderly. He took, and held her fast +in his arms, till she had returned from her swoon. + +"Fair dear friend," said he softly, "bear with me while I tell you +that you are my life and my death, and in you is all my comfort. I +have bidden farewell to your father, and purposed to go back to my own +land, for reason of this bitter business of my lord. But my will is +only in your pleasure, and whatever the future brings me, your counsel +I will do." + +"Since you cannot stay," said the maiden, "take me with you, wherever +you go. If not, my life is so joyless without you, that I would wish +to end it with my knife." + +Very sweetly made answer Sir Eliduc, for in honesty he loved honest +maid, "Fair friend, I have sworn faith to your father, and am his man. +If I carried you with me, I should give the lie to my troth. Let this +covenant be made between us. Should you give me leave to return to my +own land I swear to you on my honour as a knight, that I will come +again on any day that you shall name. My life is in your hands. +Nothing on earth shall keep me from your side, so only that I have +life and health." + +Then she, who loved so fondly, granted her knight permission to +depart, and fixed the term, and named the day for his return. Great +was their sorrow that the hour had come to bid farewell. They gave +rings of gold for remembrance, and sweetly kissed adieu. So they +severed from each other's arms. + +Eliduc sought the sea, and with a fair wind, crossed swiftly to the +other side. His lord was greatly content to learn the tidings of his +knight's return. His friends and his kinsfolk came to greet him, and +the common folk welcomed him very gladly. But, amongst them all, none +was so blithe at his home-coming as the fair and prudent lady who was +his wife. Despite this show of friendship, Eliduc was ever sad, and +deep in thought. He went heavily, till he might look upon his friend. +He felt no happiness, nor made pretence of any, till he should meet +with her again. His wife was sick at heart, because of the coldness of +her husband. She took counsel with her soul, as to what she had done +amiss. Often she asked him privily, if she had come short or offended +in any measure, whilst he was without the realm. If she was accused by +any, let him tell her the accusation, that she might purge herself of +the offence. + +"Wife," answered Eliduc, "neither I, nor any other, charge you with +aught that is against your honour to do. The cause of my sorrow is +in myself. I have pledged my faith to the King of that country, from +whence I come, that I will return to help him in his need. When my +lord the King has peace in his realm, within eight days I shall be +once more upon the sea. Great travail I must endure, and many pains I +shall suffer, in readiness for that hour. Return I must, and till then +I have no mind for anything but toil; for I will not give the lie to +my plighted word." + +Eliduc put his fief once more in the hands of his dame. He sought +his lord, and aided him to the best of his might. By the counsel and +prowess of the knight, the King came again into his own. When the term +appointed by his lady, and the day she named for his return drew near, +Eliduc wrought in such fashion that peace was accorded between the +foes. Then the knight made him ready for his journey, and took thought +to the folk he should carry with him. His choice fell on two of his +nephews, whom he loved very dearly, and on a certain chamberlain of +his household. These were trusted servitors, who were of his inmost +mind, and knew much of his counsel. Together with these went his +squires, these only, for Eliduc had no care to take many. All these, +nephew and squire and chamberlain, Eliduc made to promise, and confirm +by an oath, that they would reveal nothing of his business. + +The company put to sea without further tarrying, and, crossing +quickly, came to that land where Eliduc so greatly desired to be. The +knight sought a hostel some distance from the haven, for he would +not be seen of any, nor have it bruited that Eliduc was returned. He +called his chamberlain, and sent him to his friend, bearing letters +that her knight had come, according to the covenant that had been +made. At nightfall, before the gates were made fast, Eliduc issued +forth from the city, and followed after his messenger. He had clothed +himself in mean apparel, and rode at a footpace straight to the city, +where dwelt the daughter of the King. The chamberlain arrived before +the palace, and by dint of asking and prying, found himself within the +lady's chamber. He saluted the maiden, and told her that her lover +was near. When Guillardun heard these tidings she was astonied beyond +measure, and for joy and pity wept right tenderly. She kissed the +letters of her friend, and the messenger who brought such welcome +tidings. The chamberlain prayed the lady to attire and make her ready +to join her friend. The day was spent in preparing for the adventure, +according to such plan as had been devised. When dark was come, +and all was still, the damsel stole forth from the palace, and the +chamberlain with her. For fear that any man should know her again, +the maiden had hidden, beneath a riding cloak, her silken gown, +embroidered with gold. About the space of a bow shot from the city +gate, there was a coppice standing within a fair meadow. Near by this +wood, Eliduc and his comrades awaited the coming of Guillardun. When +Eliduc saw the lady, wrapped in her mantle, and his chamberlain +leading her by the hand, he got from his horse, and kissed her right +tenderly. Great joy had his companions at so fair a sight. He set +her on the horse, and climbing before her, took bridle in glove, +and returned to the haven, with all the speed he might. He entered +forthwith in the ship, which put to sea, having on board none, save +Eliduc, his men, and his lady, Guillardun. With a fair wind, and a +quiet hour, the sailors thought that they would swiftly come to shore. +But when their journey was near its end, a sudden tempest arose on the +sea. A mighty wind drove them far from their harbourage, so that their +rudder was broken, and their sail torn from the mast. Devoutly they +cried on St. Nicholas, St. Clement, and Madame St. Mary, to aid them +in this peril. They implored the Mother that she would approach her +Son, not to permit them to perish, but to bring them to the harbour +where they would come. Without sail or oar, the ship drifted here and +there, at the mercy of the storm. They were very close to death, when +one of the company, with a loud voice began to cry, "What need is +there of prayers! Sir, you have with you, her, who brings us to our +death. We shall never win to land, because you, who already have a +faithful wife, seek to wed this foreign woman, against God and His +law, against honour and your plighted troth. Grant us to cast her in +the sea, and straightway the winds and the waves will be still." + +When Eliduc heard these words he was like to come to harm for rage. + +"Bad servant and felon traitor," he cried, "you should pay dearly for +your speech, if I might leave my lady." + +Eliduc held his friend fast in his arms, and cherished her as well as +he was able. When the lady heard that her knight was already wedded +in his own realm, she swooned where she lay. Her face became pale and +discoloured; she neither breathed nor sighed, nor could any bring +her any comfort. Those who carried her to a sheltered place, were +persuaded that she was but dead, because of the fury of the storm. +Eliduc was passing heavy. He rose to his feet, and hastening to his +squire, smote him so grievously with an oar, that he fell senseless on +the deck. He haled him by his legs to the side of the ship and flung +the body in the sea, where it was swiftly swallowed by the waves. He +went to the broken rudder, and governed the nave so skilfully, that it +presently drew to land. So, having come to their fair haven, they cast +anchor, and made fast their bridge to the shore. Dame Guillardun lay +yet in her swoon, and seemed no other than if she were really dead. +Eliduc's sorrow was all the more, since he deemed that he had slain +her with his hand. He inquired of his companions in what near place +they might lay the lady to her rest, "for I will not bid her farewell, +till she is put in holy ground with such pomp and rite as befit the +obsequies of the daughter of a King." His comrades answered him never +a word, for they were all bemused by reason of what had befallen. +Eliduc, therefore, considered within himself to what place he should +carry the lady. His own home was so near the haven where he had come, +that very easily they could ride there before evening. He called to +mind that in his realm there was a certain great forest, both long and +deep. Within this wood there was a little chapel, served by a holy +hermit for forty years, with whom Eliduc had oftimes spoken. + +"To this holy man," he said, "I will bear my lady. In his chapel he +shall bury her sweet body. I will endow him so richly of my lands, +that upon her chantry shall be founded a mighty abbey. There some +convent of monks or nuns or canons shall ever hold her in remembrance, +praying God to grant her mercy in His day." + +Eliduc got to horse, but first took oath of his comrades that never, +by them, should be discovered, that which they should see. He set his +friend before him on the palfrey, and thus the living and the dead +rode together, till they had entered the wood, and come before the +chapel. The squires called and beat upon the door, but it remained +fast, and none was found to give them any answer. Eliduc bade that one +should climb through a window, and open the door from within. When +they had come within the chapel they found a new made tomb, and writ +thereon, that the holy hermit having finished his course, was made +perfect, eight days before Passing sad was Eliduc, and esmayed. His +companions would have digged a second grave, and set therein, his +friend; but the knight would in no wise consent, for--he said--he +purposed to take counsel of the priests of his country, as to building +some church or abbey above her tomb. "At this hour we will but lay her +body before the altar, and commend her to God His holy keeping." +He commanded them to bring their mantles and make a bed upon the +altar-pace. Thereon they laid the maiden, and having wrapped her close +in her lover's cloak, left her alone. When the moment came for Eliduc +to take farewell of his lady, he deemed that his own last hour had +come. He kissed her eyes and her face. + +"Fair friend," said he, "if it be pleasing to God, never will I bear +sword or lance again, or seek the pleasures of this mortal world. Fair +friend, in an ill hour you saw me! Sweet lady, in a bitter hour you +followed me to death! Fairest, now were you a queen, were it not for +the pure and loyal love you set upon me? Passing sad of heart am I for +you, my friend. The hour that I have seen you in your shroud, I will +take the habit of some holy order, and every day, upon your tomb, I +will tell over the chaplet of my sorrow." + +Having taken farewell of the maiden, Eliduc came forth from the +chapel, and closed the doors. He sent messages to his wife, that he +was returning to his house, but weary and overborne. When the dame +heard these tidings, she was happy in her heart, and made ready to +greet him. She received her lord tenderly; but little joy came of her +welcome, for she got neither smiles in answer, nor tender words in +return. She dared not inquire the reason, during the two days Eliduc +remained in the house. The knight heard Mass very early in the +morning, and then set forth on the road leading to the chapel where +the maiden lay. He found her as he had parted, for she had not come +back from her swoon, and there was neither stir in her, nor breath. He +marvelled greatly, for he saw her, vermeil and white, as he had known +her in life. She had lost none of her sweet colour, save that she was +a little blanched. He wept bitterly above her, and entreated for her +soul. Having made his prayer, he went again to his house. + +On a day when Eliduc went forth, his wife called to her a varlet of +her household, commanding him to follow his lord afar off, and mark +where he went, and on what business. She promised to give him harness +and horses, if he did according to her will. The varlet hid himself in +the wood, and followed so cunningly after his lord, that he was not +perceived. He watched the knight enter the chapel, and heard the +cry and lamentation that he made. When Eliduc came out, the varlet +hastened to his mistress, and told her what he had seen, the tears and +dolour, and all that befell his lord within the hermitage. The lady +summoned all her courage. + +"We will go together, as soon as we may, to this hermitage. My lord +tells me that he rides presently to the Court to speak with the King. +I knew that my husband loved this dead hermit very tenderly, but I +little thought that his loss would make him mad with grief." + +The next day the dame let her lord go forth in peace. When, about +noon, Eliduc rode to the Court to greet his King, the lady rose +quickly, and carrying the varlet with her, went swiftly to the +hermitage. She entered the chapel, and saw the bed upon the +altar-pace, and the maiden thereon, like a new sprung rose. Stooping +down the lady removed the mantle. She marked the rigid body, the long +arms, and the frail white hands, with their slender fingers, folded on +the breast. Thus she learned the secret of the sorrow of her lord. She +called the varlet within the chapel, and showed him this wonder. + +"Seest thou," she said, "this woman, who for beauty shineth as a gem! +This lady, in her life, was the lover of my lord. It was for her that +all his days were spoiled by grief. By my faith I marvel little at +his sorrow, since I, who am a woman too, will--for pity's sake or +love--never know joy again, having seen so fair a lady in the dust." + +So the wife wept above the body of the maiden. Whilst the lady +sat weeping, a weasel came from under the altar, and ran across +Guillardun's body. The varlet smote it with his staff, and killed it +as it passed. He took the vermin and flung it away. The companion of +this weasel presently came forth to seek him. She ran to the place +where he lay, and finding that he would not get him on his feet, +seemed as one distraught. She went forth from the chapel, and hastened +to the wood, from whence she returned quickly, bearing a vermeil +flower beneath her teeth. This red flower she placed within the mouth +of that weasel the varlet had slain, and immediately he stood upon his +feet. When the lady saw this, she cried to the varlet, + +"Throw, man, throw, and gain the flower." + +The servitor flung his staff, and the weasels fled away, leaving that +fair flower upon the floor. The lady rose. She took the flower, and +returned with it swiftly to the altar pace. Within the mouth of the +maiden, she set a flower that was more vermeil still. For a short +space the dame and the damsel were alike breathless. Then the maiden +came to herself, with a sigh. She opened her eyes, and commenced to +speak. + +"Diva," she said, "have I slept so long, indeed!" + +When the lady heard her voice she gave thanks to God. She inquired of +the maiden as to her name and degree. The damsel made answer to her, +"Lady, I was born in Logres, and am daughter to the King of that +realm. Greatly there I loved a knight, named Eliduc, the seneschal of +my sire. We fled together from my home, to my own most grievous fault. +He never told me that he was wedded to a wife in his own country, and +he hid the matter so cunningly, that I knew naught thereof. When I +heard tell of his dame, I swooned for pure sorrow. Now I find that +this false lover, has, like a felon, betrayed me in a strange land. +What will chance to a maiden in so foul a plight? Great is that +woman's folly who puts her trust in man." + +"Fair damsel," replied the lady, "there is nothing in the whole world +that can give such joy to this felon, as to hear that you are yet +alive. He deems that you are dead, and every day he beweeps your swoon +in the chapel. I am his wife, and my heart is sick, just for looking +on his sorrow. To learn the reason of his grief, I caused him to +be followed, and that is why I have found you here. It is a great +happiness for me to know that you live. You shall return with me to my +home, and I will place you in the tenderness of your friend. Then I +shall release him of his marriage troth, since it is my dearest hope +to take the veil." + +When the wife had comforted the maiden with such words, they went +together to her own house. She called to her servitor, and bade him +seek his lord. The varlet went here and there, till he lighted on +Eliduc. He came before him, and showed him of all these things. Eliduc +mounted straightway on his horse, and waiting neither for squire or +companion, that same night came to his hall. When he found alive, her, +who once was dead, Eliduc thanked his wife for so dear a gift. He +rejoiced beyond measure, and of all his days, no day was more happy +than this. He kissed the maiden often, and very sweetly she gave him +again his kiss, for great was the joy between the twain. The dame +looked on their happiness, and knew that her lord meetly had bestowed +his love. She prayed him, therefore, that he would grant her leave to +depart, since she would serve God as a cloistered nun. Of his wealth +she craved such a portion as would permit her to found a convent. He +would then be able to wed the maiden on whom his heart was set, for it +was neither honest nor seemly that a man should maintain a wife with +either hand. + +Eliduc could do no otherwise than consent. He gave the permission she +asked, and did all according to her will. He endowed the lady of his +lands, near by that chapel and hermitage, within the wood. There he +built a church with offices and refectory, fair to see. Much wealth he +bestowed on the convent, in money and estate. When all was brought to +a good end, the lady took the veil upon her head. Thirty other ladies +entered in the house with her, and long she ruled them as their +Abbess, right wisely and well. + +Eliduc wedded with his friend, in great pomp, and passing rich was the +marriage feast. They dwelt in unity together for many days, for ever +between them was perfect love. They walked uprightly, and gave alms of +their goods, till such a time as it became them to turn to God. After +much thought, Eliduc built a great church close beside his castle. +He endowed it with all his gold and silver, and with the rest of his +land. He set priests there, and holy layfolk also, for the business of +the house, and the fair services of religion. + +When all was builded and ordered, Eliduc offered himself, with them, +that he--weak man--might serve the omnipotent God. He set with the +Abbess Guildeluec--who once was his dame--that wife whom he loved so +dearly well. The Abbess received her as a sister, and welcomed her +right honourably. She admonished her in the offices of God, and taught +her of the rules and practice of their holy Order. They prayed to God +for their friend, that He would grant him mercy in His day. In turn, +he entreated God for them. Messages came from convent and monastery as +to how they fared, so that each might encourage the other in His way. +Each strove painfully, for himself and his, to love God the more +dearly, and to abide in His holy faith. Each made a good end, and the +mercy of God was abundantly made clear to all. + +Of the adventure of these three lovers, the courteous Bretons made +this Lay for remembrance, since they deemed it a matter that men +should not forget. + + + + +V + + +THE LAY OF THE NIGHTINGALE + +Now will I tell you a story, whereof the Breton harper already has +made a Lay. Laustic, I deem, men name it in that country, which, being +interpreted, means rossignol in French, and nightingale in good plain +English. + +In the realm of Brittany stands a certain rich and mighty city, called +Saint Malo. There were citizens of this township two knights, so well +spoken and reputed of all, that the city drew therefrom great profit +and fame. The houses of these lords were very near the one to the +other. One of the two knights had to wife a passing fair lady, right +gracious of manner and sweet of tongue. Wondrous pleasure found this +dame to array herself richly, after the wont and fashion of her time. +The other knight was yet a bachelor. He was well accounted of amongst +his fellows as a hardy knight and as an honourable man. He gave +hospitality gladly. Largely he gained, largely he spent, and willingly +bestowed gifts of all that he had. + +This bachelor set his love upon his neighbour's wife. By reason of his +urgent prayers, his long suit and service, and by reason that all men +spake naught of him but praise--perchance, also, for reason that he +was never far from her eye--presently this lady came to set her heart +on him again. Though these two friends loved right tenderly, yet were +they so private and careful in their loves that none perceived what +was in their hearts. No man pried on them, or disturbed their goings +and comings. These were the more easy to devise since the bachelor and +the lady were such near neighbours. Their two houses stood side by +side, hall and cellar and combles. Only between the gardens was built +a high and ancient wall, of worn gray stone. When the lady sat within +her bower, by leaning from the casement she and her friend might speak +together, he to her, and she to him. They could also throw messages in +writing, and divers pretty gifts, the one to the other. Little enough +had they to displease them, and greatly were they at their ease, save +only that they might not take their pleasure together, so often as +their hearts had wished. For the dame was guarded very straitly when +her husband was abroad. Yet not so strictly but that they might have +word and speech, the now by night and now by day. At least, however +close the watch and ward, none might hinder that at times these fair +lovers stood within their casements, and looked fondly on the other's +face. + +Now after these friends had loved for a great space it chanced that +the season became warm and sweet. It was the time when meadow and +copse are green; when orchards grow white with bloom, and birds break +into song as thickly as the bush to flower. It is the season when he +who loves would win to his desire. Truly I tell you that the knight +would have done all in his power to attain his wish, and the lady, for +her part, yearned for sight and speech of her friend. At night, when +the moon shone clearly in the sky, and her lord lay sleeping at her +side, often the dame slipped softly from her bed, and hastening to the +casement, leaned forth to have sight of him who watched. The greater +part of the dark they kept vigil together, for very pleasant it is to +look upon your friend, when sweeter things are denied. + +This chanced so often, and the lady rose so frequently from her bed, +that her lord was altogether wrathful, and many a time inquired the +reason of her unrest. + +"Husband," replied the dame, "there is no dearer joy in this world, +than to hear the nightingale sing. It is to hearken to the song that +rises so sweetly on the night, that I lean forth from the casement. +What tune of harp or viol is half so fair! Because of my delight in +his song, and of my desire to hear, I may not shut my eyes till it be +morn." + +When the husband heard the lady's words he laughed within himself for +wrath and malice. He purposed that very soon the nightingale should +sing within a net. So he bade the servants of his house to devise +fillets and snares, and to set their cunning traps about the orchard. +Not a chestnut tree nor hazel within the garth but was limed and +netted for the caging of this bird. It was not long therefore ere the +nightingale was taken, and the servants made haste to give him to the +pleasure of their lord. Wondrous merry was the knight when he held him +living in his hand. He went straightway to the chamber of his dame, +and entering, said, + +"Wife, are you within? Come near, for I must speak with you. Here is +the nightingale, all limed and taken, who made vigil of your sleeping +hours. Take now your rest in peace, for he will never disturb you +more." + +When the lady understood these words she was marvellously sorrowful +and heavy. She prayed her lord to grant her the nightingale for a +gift. But for all answer he wrung his neck with both hands so fiercely +that the head was torn from the body. Then, right foully, he flung the +bird upon the knees of the dame, in such fashion that her breast +was sprinkled with the blood. So he departed, incontinent, from the +chamber in a rage. + +The lady took the little body in her hands, and wept his evil fate. +She railed on those who with nets and snares had betrayed the +nightingale to his death; for anger and hate beyond measure had gained +hold on her heart. + +"Alas," cried she, "evil is come upon me. Never again may I rise from +my bed in the night, and watch from the casement, so that I may see my +friend. One thing I know full well, that he will deem my love is no +more set upon him. Woe to her who has none to give her counsel. This I +will do. I will bestow the nightingale upon him, and send him tidings +of the chance that has befallen." + +So this doleful lady took a fair piece of white samite, broidered with +gold, and wrought thereon the whole story of this adventure. In this +silken cloth she wrapped the body of the little bird, and calling to +her a trusty servant of her house, charged him with the message, and +bade him bear it to her friend. The varlet went his way to the knight, +and having saluted him on the part of the lady, he told over to him +the story, and bestowed the nightingale upon him. When all had been +rehearsed and shown to him, and he had well considered the matter, +the knight was very dolent; yet in no wise would he avenge himself +wrongfully. So he caused a certain coffret to be fashioned, made not +of iron or steel, but of fine gold and fair stones, most rich and +precious, right strongly clasped and bound. In this little chest he +set the body of the nightingale, and having sealed the shrine, carried +it upon him whenever his business took him abroad. + +This adventure could not long be hid. Very swiftly it was noised about +the country, and the Breton folk made a Lay thereon, which they +called the Lay of the Laustic, in their own tongue. + + + + +VI + + +THE LAY OF SIR LAUNFAL + +I will tell you the story of another Lay. It relates the adventures +of a rich and mighty baron, and the Breton calls it, the Lay of Sir +Launfal. + +King Arthur--that fearless knight and courteous lord--removed to +Wales, and lodged at Caerleon-on-Usk, since the Picts and Scots did +much mischief in the land. For it was the wont of the wild people of +the north to enter in the realm of Logres, and burn and damage at +their will. At the time of Pentecost, the King cried a great feast. +Thereat he gave many rich gifts to his counts and barons, and to the +Knights of the Round Table. Never were such worship and bounty shown +before at any feast, for Arthur bestowed honours and lands on all his +servants--save only on one. This lord, who was forgotten and misliked +of the King, was named Launfal. He was beloved by many of the Court, +because of his beauty and prowess, for he was a worthy knight, open of +heart and heavy of hand. These lords, to whom their comrade was dear, +felt little joy to see so stout a knight misprized. Sir Launfal was +son to a King of high descent, though his heritage was in a distant +land. He was of the King's household, but since Arthur gave him +naught, and he was of too proud a mind to pray for his due, he had +spent all that he had. Right heavy was Sir Launfal, when he considered +these things, for he knew himself taken in the toils. Gentles, marvel +not overmuch hereat. Ever must the pilgrim go heavily in a strange +land, where there is none to counsel and direct him in the path. + +Now, on a day, Sir Launfal got him on his horse, that he might take +his pleasure for a little. He came forth from the city, alone, +attended by neither servant nor squire. He went his way through a +green mead, till he stood by a river of clear running water. Sir +Launfal would have crossed this stream, without thought of pass or +ford, but he might not do so, for reason that his horse was all +fearful and trembling. Seeing that he was hindered in this fashion, +Launfal unbitted his steed, and let him pasture in that fair meadow, +where they had come. Then he folded his cloak to serve him as a +pillow, and lay upon the ground. Launfal lay in great misease, because +of his heavy thoughts, and the discomfort of his bed. He turned from +side to side, and might not sleep. Now as the knight looked towards +the river he saw two damsels coming towards him; fairer maidens +Launfal had never seen. These two maidens were richly dressed in +kirtles closely laced and shapen to their persons and wore mantles +of a goodly purple hue. Sweet and dainty were the damsels, alike in +raiment and in face. The elder of these ladies carried in her hands a +basin of pure gold, cunningly wrought by some crafty smith--very fair +and precious was the cup; and the younger bore a towel of soft white +linen. These maidens turned neither to the right hand nor to the left, +but went directly to the place where Launfal lay. When Launfal saw +that their business was with him, he stood upon his feet, like a +discreet and courteous gentleman. After they had greeted the knight, +one of the maidens delivered the message with which she was charged. + +"Sir Launfal, my demoiselle, as gracious as she is fair, prays that +you will follow us, her messengers, as she has a certain word to speak +with you. We will lead you swiftly to her pavilion, for our lady is +very near at hand. If you but lift your eyes you may see where her +tent is spread." + +Right glad was the knight to do the bidding of the maidens. He gave no +heed to his horse, but left him at his provand in the meadow. All his +desire was to go with the damsels, to that pavilion of silk and divers +colours, pitched in so fair a place. Certainly neither Semiramis in +the days of her most wanton power, nor Octavian, the Emperor of all +the West, had so gracious a covering from sun and rain. Above the tent +was set an eagle of gold, so rich and precious, that none might count +the cost. The cords and fringes thereof were of silken thread, and the +lances which bore aloft the pavilion were of refined gold. No King on +earth might have so sweet a shelter, not though he gave in fee the +value of his realm. Within this pavilion Launfal came upon the Maiden. +Whiter she was than any altar lily, and more sweetly flushed than the +new born rose in time of summer heat. She lay upon a bed with napery +and coverlet of richer worth than could be furnished by a castle's +spoil. Very fresh and slender showed the lady in her vesture of +spotless linen. About her person she had drawn a mantle of ermine, +edged with purple dye from the vats of Alexandria. By reason of the +heat her raiment was unfastened for a little, and her throat and the +rondure of her bosom showed whiter and more untouched than hawthorn in +May. The knight came before the bed, and stood gazing on so sweet a +sight. The Maiden beckoned him to draw near, and when he had seated +himself at the foot of her couch, spoke her mind. + +"Launfal," she said, "fair friend, it is for you that I have come from +my own far land. I bring you my love. If you are prudent and discreet, +as you are goodly to the view, there is no emperor nor count, nor +king, whose day shall be so filled with riches and with mirth as +yours." + +When Launfal heard these words he rejoiced greatly, for his heart was +litten by another's torch. + +"Fair lady," he answered, "since it pleases you to be so gracious, and +to dower so graceless a knight with your love, there is naught that +you may bid me do--right or wrong, evil or good--that I will not do to +the utmost of my power. I will observe your commandment, and serve in +your quarrels. For you I renounce my father and my father's house. +This only I pray, that I may dwell with you in your lodging, and that +you will never send me from your side." + +When the Maiden heard the words of him whom so fondly she desired to +love, she was altogether moved, and granted him forthwith her heart +and her tenderness. To her bounty she added another gift besides. +Never might Launfal be desirous of aught, but he would have according +to his wish. He might waste and spend at will and pleasure, but in his +purse ever there was to spare. No more was Launfal sad. Right merry +was the pilgrim, since one had set him on the way, with such a gift, +that the more pennies he bestowed, the more silver and gold were in +his pouch. + +But the Maiden had yet a word to say. + +"Friend," she said, "hearken to my counsel. I lay this charge upon +you, and pray you urgently, that you tell not to any man the secret of +our love. If you show this matter, you will lose your friend, for ever +and a day. Never again may you see my face. Never again will you have +seisin of that body, which is now so tender in your eyes." + +Launfal plighted faith, that right strictly he would observe this +commandment. So the Maiden granted him her kiss and her embrace, and +very sweetly in that fair lodging passed the day till evensong was +come. + +Right loath was Launfal to depart from the pavilion at the vesper +hour, and gladly would he have stayed, had he been able, and his lady +wished. + +"Fair friend," said she, "rise up, for no longer may you tarry. The +hour is come that we must part. But one thing I have to say before you +go. When you would speak with me I shall hasten to come before your +wish. Well I deem that you will only call your friend where she may +be found without reproach or shame of men. You may see me at your +pleasure; my voice shall speak softly in your ear at will; but I must +never be known of your comrades, nor must they ever learn my speech." + +Right joyous was Launfal to hear this thing. He sealed the covenant +with a kiss, and stood upon his feet. Then there entered the two +maidens who had led him to the pavilion, bringing with them rich +raiment, fitting for a knight's apparel. When Launfal had clothed +himself therewith, there seemed no goodlier varlet under heaven, for +certainly he was fair and true. After these maidens had refreshed him +with clear water, and dried his hands upon the napkin, Launfal went +to meat. His friend sat at table with him, and small will had he to +refuse her courtesy. Very serviceably the damsels bore the meats, and +Launfal and the Maiden ate and drank with mirth and content. But one +dish was more to the knight's relish than any other. Sweeter than the +dainties within his mouth, was the lady's kiss upon his lips. + +When supper was ended, Launfal rose from table, for his horse stood +waiting without the pavilion. The destrier was newly saddled and +bridled, and showed proudly in his rich gay trappings. So Launfal +kissed, and bade farewell, and went his way. He rode back towards the +city at a slow pace. Often he checked his steed, and looked behind +him, for he was filled with amazement, and all bemused concerning this +adventure. In his heart he doubted that it was but a dream. He was +altogether astonished, and knew not what to do. He feared that +pavilion and Maiden alike were from the realm of faery. + +Launfal returned to his lodging, and was greeted by servitors, clad +no longer in ragged raiment. He fared richly, lay softly, and spent +largely, but never knew how his purse was filled. There was no lord +who had need of a lodging in the town, but Launfal brought him to +his hall, for refreshment and delight. Launfal bestowed rich gifts. +Launfal redeemed the poor captive. Launfal clothed in scarlet the +minstrel. Launfal gave honour where honour was due. Stranger and +friend alike he comforted at need. So, whether by night or by day, +Launfal lived greatly at his ease. His lady, she came at will and +pleasure, and, for the rest, all was added unto him. + +Now it chanced, the same year, about the feast of St. John, a company +of knights came, for their solace, to an orchard, beneath that tower +where dwelt the Queen. Together with these lords went Gawain and his +cousin, Yvain the fair. Then said Gawain, that goodly knight, beloved +and dear to all, + +"Lords, we do wrong to disport ourselves in this pleasaunce without +our comrade Launfal. It is not well to slight a prince as brave as he +is courteous, and of a lineage prouder than our own." + +Then certain of the lords returned to the city, and finding Launfal +within his hostel, entreated him to take his pastime with them in that +fair meadow. The Queen looked out from a window in her tower, she and +three ladies of her fellowship. They saw the lords at their pleasure, +and Launfal also, whom well they knew. So the Queen chose of her Court +thirty damsels--the sweetest of face and most dainty of fashion--and +commanded that they should descend with her to take their delight in +the garden. When the knights beheld this gay company of ladies come +down the steps of the perron, they rejoiced beyond measure. They +hastened before to lead them by the hand, and said such words in their +ear as were seemly and pleasant to be spoken. Amongst these merry and +courteous lords hasted not Sir Launfal. He drew apart from the throng, +for with him time went heavily, till he might have clasp and greeting +of his friend. The ladies of the Queen's fellowship seemed but kitchen +wenches to his sight, in comparison with the loveliness of the maiden. +When the Queen marked Launfal go aside, she went his way, and seating +herself upon the herb, called the knight before her. Then she opened +out her heart. + +"Launfal, I have honoured you for long as a worthy knight, and have +praised and cherished you very dearly. You may receive a queen's whole +love, if such be your care. Be content: he to whom my heart is given, +has small reason to complain him of the alms." + +"Lady," answered the knight, "grant me leave to go, for this grace is +not for me. I am the King's man, and dare not break my troth. Not for +the highest lady in the world, not even for her love, will I set this +reproach upon my lord." + +When the Queen heard this, she was full of wrath, and spoke many hot +and bitter words. + +"Launfal," she cried, "well I know that you think little of woman and +her love. There are sins more black that a man may have upon his soul. +Traitor you are, and false. Right evil counsel gave they to my lord, +who prayed him to suffer you about his person. You remain only for his +harm and loss." + +Launfal was very dolent to hear this thing. He was not slow to take up +the Queen's glove, and in his haste spake words that he repented long, +and with tears. + +"Lady," said he, "I am not of that guild of which you speak. Neither +am I a despiser of woman, since I love, and am loved, of one who would +bear the prize from all the ladies in the land. Dame, know now and be +persuaded, that she, whom I serve, is so rich in state, that the very +meanest of her maidens, excels you, Lady Queen, as much in clerkly +skill and goodness, as in sweetness of body and face, and in every +virtue." + +The Queen rose straightway to her feet, and fled to her chamber, +weeping. Right wrathful and heavy was she, because of the words that +had besmirched her. She lay sick upon her bed, from which, she said, +she would never rise, till the King had done her justice, and righted +this bitter wrong. Now the King that day had taken his pleasure within +the woods. He returned from the chase towards evening, and sought the +chamber of the Queen. When the lady saw him, she sprang from her bed, +and kneeling at his feet, pleaded for grace and pity. Launfal--she +said--had shamed her, since he required her love. When she had put him +by, very foully had he reviled her, boasting that his love was already +set on a lady, so proud and noble, that her meanest wench went more +richly, and smiled more sweetly, than the Queen. Thereat the King +waxed marvellously wrathful, and swore a great oath that he would set +Launfal within a fire, or hang him from a tree, if he could not deny +this thing, before his peers. + +Arthur came forth from the Queen's chamber, and called to him three +of his lords. These he sent to seek the knight who so evilly had +entreated the Queen. Launfal, for his part, had returned to his +lodging, in a sad and sorrowful case. He saw very clearly that he had +lost his friend, since he had declared their love to men. Launfal sat +within his chamber, sick and heavy of thought. Often he called upon +his friend, but the lady would not hear his voice. He bewailed his +evil lot, with tears; for grief he came nigh to swoon; a hundred times +he implored the Maiden that she would deign to speak with her knight. +Then, since the lady yet refrained from speech, Launfal cursed his hot +and unruly tongue. Very near he came to ending all this trouble with +his knife. Naught he found to do but to wring his hands, and call upon +the Maiden, begging her to forgive his trespass, and to talk with him +again, as friend to friend. + +But little peace is there for him who is harassed by a King. There +came presently to Launfal's hostel those three barons from the Court. +These bade the knight forthwith to go with them to Arthur's presence, +to acquit him of this wrong against the Queen. Launfal went forth, to +his own deep sorrow. Had any man slain him on the road, he would +have counted him his friend. He stood before the King, downcast and +speechless, being dumb by reason of that great grief, of which he +showed the picture and image. + +Arthur looked upon his captive very evilly. + +"Vassal," said he, harshly, "you have done me a bitter wrong. It was a +foul deed to seek to shame me in this ugly fashion, and to smirch the +honour of the Queen. Is it folly or lightness which leads you to boast +of that lady, the least of whose maidens is fairer, and goes more +richly, than the Queen?" + +Launfal protested that never had he set such shame upon his lord. +Word by word he told the tale of how he denied the Queen, within the +orchard. But concerning that which he had spoken of the lady, he owned +the truth, and his folly. The love of which he bragged was now lost to +him, by his own exceeding fault. He cared little for his life, and was +content to obey the judgment of the Court. + +Right wrathful was the King at Launfal's words. He conjured his barons +to give him such wise counsel herein, that wrong might be done to +none. The lords did the King's bidding, whether good came of the +matter, or evil. They gathered themselves together, and appointed a +certain day that Launfal should abide the judgment of his peers. For +his part Launfal must give pledge and surety to his lord, that he +would come before this judgment in his own body. If he might not give +such surety then he should be held captive till the appointed day. +When the lords of the King's household returned to tell him of their +counsel, Arthur demanded that Launfal should put such pledge in his +hand, as they had said. Launfal was altogether mazed and bewildered at +this judgment, for he had neither friend nor kindred in the land. He +would have been set in prison, but Gawain came first to offer himself +as his surety, and with him, all the knights of his fellowship. These +gave into the King's hand as pledge, the fiefs and lands that they +held of his Crown. The King having taken pledges from the sureties, +Launfal returned to his lodging, and with him certain knights of his +company. They blamed him greatly because of his foolish love, and +chastened him grievously by reason of the sorrow he made before men. +Every day they came to his chamber, to know of his meat and drink, for +much they feared that presently he would become mad. + +The lords of the household came together on the day appointed for this +judgment. The King was on his chair, with the Queen sitting at his +side. The sureties brought Launfal within the hall, and rendered him +into the hands of his peers. Right sorrowful were they because of his +plight. A great company of his fellowship did all that they were able +to acquit him of this charge. When all was set out, the King demanded +the judgment of the Court, according to the accusation and the answer. +The barons went forth in much trouble and thought to consider this +matter. Many amongst them grieved for the peril of a good knight in +a strange land; others held that it were well for Launfal to suffer, +because of the wish and malice of their lord. Whilst they were thus +perplexed, the Duke of Cornwall rose in the council, and said, + +"Lords, the King pursues Launfal as a traitor, and would slay him with +the sword, by reason that he bragged of the beauty of his maiden, +and roused the jealousy of the Queen. By the faith that I owe this +company, none complains of Launfal, save only the King. For our part +we would know the truth of this business, and do justice between the +King and his man. We would also show proper reverence to our own liege +lord. Now, if it be according to Arthur's will, let us take oath of +Launfal, that he seek this lady, who has put such strife between him +and the Queen. If her beauty be such as he has told us, the Queen will +have no cause for wrath. She must pardon Launfal for his rudeness, +since it will be plain that he did not speak out of a malicious heart. +Should Launfal fail his word, and not return with the lady, or should +her fairness fall beneath his boast, then let him be cast off from our +fellowship, and be sent forth from the service of the King." + +This counsel seemed good to the lords of the household. They sent +certain of his friends to Launfal, to acquaint him with their +judgment, bidding him to pray his damsel to the Court, that he might +be acquitted of this blame. The knight made answer that in no wise +could he do this thing. So the sureties returned before the judges, +saying that Launfal hoped neither for refuge nor for succour from +the lady, and Arthur urged them to a speedy ending, because of the +prompting of the Queen. + +The judges were about to give sentence upon Launfal, when they saw +two maidens come riding towards the palace, upon two white ambling +palfreys. Very sweet and dainty were these maidens, and richly clothed +in garments of crimson sendal, closely girt and fashioned to their +bodies. All men, old and young, looked willingly upon them, for fair +they were to see. Gawain, and three knights of his company, went +straight to Launfal, and showed him these maidens, praying him to +say which of them was his friend. But he answered never a word. The +maidens dismounted from their palfreys, and coming before the dais +where the King was seated, spake him fairly, as they were fair. + +"Sire, prepare now a chamber, hung with silken cloths, where it is +seemly for my lady to dwell; for she would lodge with you awhile." + +This gift the King granted gladly. He called to him two knights of his +household, and bade them bestow the maidens in such chambers as were +fitting to their degree. The maidens being gone, the King required of +his barons to proceed with their judgment, saying that he had sore +displeasure at the slowness of the cause. + +"Sire," replied the barons, "we rose from Council, because of the +damsels who entered in the hall. We will at once resume the sitting, +and give our judgment without more delay." + +The barons again were gathered together, in much thought and trouble, +to consider this matter. There was great strife and dissension amongst +them, for they knew not what to do. In the midst of all this noise and +tumult, there came two other damsels riding to the hall on two Spanish +mules. Very richly arrayed were these damsels in raiment of fine +needlework, and their kirtles were covered by fresh fair mantles, +embroidered with gold. Great joy had Launfal's comrades when they +marked these ladies. They said between themselves that doubtless they +came for the succour of the good knight. Gawain, and certain of his +company, made haste to Launfal, and said, "Sir, be not cast down. +Two ladies are near at hand, right dainty of dress, and gracious of +person. Tell us truly, for the love of God, is one of these your +friend?" + +But Launfal answered very simply that never before had he seen these +damsels with his eyes, nor known and loved them in his heart. + +The maidens dismounted from their mules, and stood before Arthur, in +the sight of all. Greatly were they praised of many, because of their +beauty, and of the colour of their face and hair. Some there were who +deemed already that the Queen was overborne. + +The elder of the damsels carried herself modestly and well, and +sweetly told over the message wherewith she was charged. + +"Sire, make ready for us chambers, where we may abide with our lady, +for even now she comes to speak with thee." + +The King commanded that the ladies should be led to their companions, +and bestowed in the same honourable fashion as they. Then he bade the +lords of his household to consider their judgment, since he would +endure no further respite. The Court already had given too much time +to the business, and the Queen was growing wrathful, because of the +blame that was hers. Now the judges were about to proclaim their +sentence, when, amidst the tumult of the town, there came riding to +the palace the flower of all the ladies of the world. She came mounted +upon a palfrey, white as snow, which carried her softly, as though she +loved her burthen. Beneath the sky was no goodlier steed, nor one more +gentle to the hand. The harness of the palfrey was so rich, that no +king on earth might hope to buy trappings so precious, unless he sold +or set his realm in pledge. The Maiden herself showed such as I will +tell you. Passing slim was the lady, sweet of bodice and slender of +girdle. Her throat was whiter than snow on branch, and her eyes were +like flowers in the pallor of her face. She had a witching mouth, a +dainty nose, and an open brow. Her eyebrows were brown, and her golden +hair parted in two soft waves upon her head. She was clad in a shift +of spotless linen, and above her snowy kirtle was set a mantle of +royal purple, clasped upon her breast. She carried a hooded falcon +upon her glove, and a greyhound followed closely after. As the Maiden +rode at a slow pace through the streets of the city, there was none, +neither great nor small, youth nor sergeant, but ran forth from his +house, that he might content his heart with so great beauty. Every man +that saw her with his eyes, marvelled at a fairness beyond that of any +earthly woman. Little he cared for any mortal maiden, after he had +seen this sight. The friends of Sir Launfal hastened to the knight, to +tell him of his lady's succour, if so it were according to God's will. + +"Sir comrade, truly is not this your friend? This lady is neither +black nor golden, mean nor tall. She is only the most lovely thing in +all the world." + +When Launfal heard this, he sighed, for by their words he knew again +his friend. He raised his head, and as the blood rushed to his face, +speech flowed from his lips. + +"By my faith," cried he, "yes, she is indeed my friend. It is a small +matter now whether men slay me, or set me free; for I am made whole of +my hurt just by looking on her face." + +The Maiden entered in the palace--where none so fair had come +before--and stood before the King, in the presence of his household. +She loosed the clasp of her mantle, so that men might the more easily +perceive the grace of her person. The courteous King advanced to meet +her, and all the Court got them on their feet, and pained themselves +in her service. When the lords had gazed upon her for a space, and +praised the sum of her beauty, the lady spake to Arthur in this +fashion, for she was anxious to begone. + +"Sire, I have loved one of thy vassals,--the knight who stands in +bonds, Sir Launfal. He was always misprized in thy Court, and his +every action turned to blame. What he said, that thou knowest; for +over hasty was his tongue before the Queen. But he never craved her in +love, however loud his boasting. I cannot choose that he should come +to hurt or harm by me. In the hope of freeing Launfal from his bonds, +I have obeyed thy summons. Let now thy barons look boldly upon my +face, and deal justly in this quarrel between the Queen and me." + +The King commanded that this should be done, and looking upon her +eyes, not one of the judges but was persuaded that her favour exceeded +that of the Queen. + +Since then Launfal had not spoken in malice against his lady, the +lords of the household gave him again his sword. When the trial had +come thus to an end the Maiden took her leave of the King, and made +her ready to depart. Gladly would Arthur have had her lodge with him +for a little, and many a lord would have rejoiced in her service, but +she might not tarry. Now without the hall stood a great stone of dull +marble, where it was the wont of lords, departing from the Court, to +climb into the saddle, and Launfal by the stone. The Maiden came +forth from the doors of the palace, and mounting on the stone, seated +herself on the palfrey, behind her friend. Then they rode across the +plain together, and were no more seen. + +The Bretons tell that the knight was ravished by his lady to an +island, very dim and very fair, known as Avalon. But none has had +speech with Launfal and his faery love since then, and for my part I +can tell you no more of the matter. + + + + +VII + + +THE LAY OF THE TWO LOVERS + +Once upon a time there lived in Normandy two lovers, who were passing +fond, and were brought by Love to Death. The story of their love was +bruited so abroad, that the Bretons made a song in their own tongue, +and named this song the Lay of the Two Lovers. + +In Neustria--that men call Normandy--there is verily a high and +marvellously great mountain, where lie the relics of the Two Children. +Near this high place the King of those parts caused to be built a +certain fair and cunning city, and since he was lord of the Pistrians, +it was known as Pistres. The town yet endures, with its towers and +houses, to bear witness to the truth; moreover the country thereabouts +is known to us all as the Valley of Pistres. + +This King had one fair daughter, a damsel sweet of face and gracious +of manner, very near to her father's heart, since he had lost his +Queen. The maiden increased in years and favour, but he took no heed +to her trothing, so that men--yea, even his own people--blamed him +greatly for this thing. When the King heard thereof he was passing +heavy and dolent, and considered within himself how he might be +delivered from this grief. So then, that none should carry off his +child, he caused it to be proclaimed, both far and near, by script and +trumpet, that he alone should wed the maid, who would bear her in his +arms, to the pinnacle of the great and perilous mountain, and that +without rest or stay. When this news was noised about the country, +many came upon the quest. But strive as they would they might not +enforce themselves more than they were able. However mighty they were +of body, at the last they failed upon the mountain, and fell with +their burthen to the ground. Thus, for a while, was none so bold as to +seek the high Princess. + +Now in this country lived a squire, son to a certain count of that +realm, seemly of semblance and courteous, and right desirous to win +that prize, which was so coveted of all. He was a welcome guest at the +Court, and the King talked with him very willingly. This squire had +set his heart upon the daughter of the King, and many a time spoke in +her ear, praying her to give him again the love he had bestowed upon +her. So seeing him brave and courteous, she esteemed him for the gifts +which gained him the favour of the King, and they loved together in +their youth. But they hid this matter from all about the Court. This +thing was very grievous to them, but the damoiseau thought within +himself that it were good to bear the pains he knew, rather than +to seek out others that might prove sharper still. Yet in the end, +altogether distraught by love, this prudent varlet sought his friend, +and showed her his case, saying that he urgently required of her that +she would flee with him, for no longer could he endure the weariness +of his days. Should he ask her of the King, well he knew that by +reason of his love he would refuse the gift, save he bore her in his +arms up the steep mount. Then the maiden made answer to her lover, and +said, + +"Fair friend, well I know you may not carry me to that high place. +Moreover should we take to flight, my father would suffer wrath and +sorrow beyond measure, and go heavily all his days. Certainly my love +is too fond to plague him thus, and we must seek another counsel, for +this is not to my heart. Hearken well. I have kindred in Salerno, of +rich estate. For more than thirty years my aunt has studied there the +art of medicine, and knows the secret gift of every root and herb. +If you hasten to her, bearing letters from me, and show her your +adventure, certainly she will find counsel and cure. Doubt not that +she will discover some cunning simple, that will strengthen your body, +as well as comfort your heart. Then return to this realm with your +potion, and ask me at my father's hand. He will deem you but a +stripling, and set forth the terms of his bargain, that to him alone +shall I be given who knows how to climb the perilous mountain, without +pause or rest, bearing his lady between his arms." + +When the varlet heard this cunning counsel of the maiden, he rejoiced +greatly, and thanking her sweetly for her rede, craved permission to +depart. He returned to his own home, and gathering together a goodly +store of silken cloths most precious, he bestowed his gear upon the +pack horses, and made him ready for the road. So with a little company +of men, mounted on swift palfreys, and most privy to his mind, he +arrived at Salerno. Now the squire made no long stay at his lodging, +but as soon as he might, went to the damsel's kindred to open out his +mind. He delivered to the aunt the letters he carried from his friend, +and bewailed their evil case. When the dame had read these letters +with him, line by line, she charged him to lodge with her awhile, till +she might do according to his wish. So by her sorceries, and for +the love of her maid, she brewed such a potion that no man, however +wearied and outworn, but by drinking this philtre, would not be +refreshed in heart and blood and bones. Such virtue had this medicine, +directly it were drunken. This simple she poured within a little +flacket, and gave it to the varlet, who received the gift with great +joy and delight, and returned swiftly to his own land. + +The varlet made no long sojourn in his home. He repaired straightway +to the Court, and, seeking out the King, required of him his fair +daughter in marriage, promising, for his part, that were she given +him, he would bear her in his arms to the summit of the mount. The +King was no wise wrath at his presumption. He smiled rather at his +folly, for how should one so young and slender succeed in a business +wherein so many mighty men had failed. Therefore he appointed a +certain day for this judgment. Moreover he caused letters to be +written to his vassals and his friends--passing none by--bidding them +to see the end of this adventure. Yea, with public cry and sound of +trumpet he bade all who would, come to behold the stripling carry his +fair daughter to the pinnacle of the mountain. And from every region +round about men came to learn the issue of this thing. But for her +part the fair maiden did all that she was able to bring her love to a +good end. Ever was it fast day and fleshless day with her, so that by +any means she might lighten the burthen that her friend must carry in +his arms. + +Now on the appointed day this young dansellon came very early to the +appointed place, bringing the flacket with him. When the great company +were fully met together, the King led forth his daughter before them; +and all might see that she was arrayed in nothing but her smock. The +varlet took the maiden in his arms, but first he gave her the flask +with the precious brewage to carry, since for pride he might not +endure to drink therefrom, save at utmost peril. The squire set forth +at a great pace, and climbed briskly till he was halfway up the mount. +Because of the joy he had in clasping his burthen, he gave no thought +to the potion. But she--she knew the strength was failing in his +heart. + +"Fair friend," said she, "well I know that you tire: drink now, I pray +you, of the flacket, and so shall your manhood come again at need." + +But the varlet answered, + +"Fair love, my heart is full of courage; nor for any reason will I +pause, so long as I can hold upon my way. It is the noise of all this +folk--the tumult and the shouting--that makes my steps uncertain. +Their cries distress me, I do not dare to stand." + +But when two thirds of the course was won, the grasshopper would have +tripped him off his feet. Urgently and often the maiden prayed him, +saying, + +"Fair friend, drink now of thy cordial." + +But he would neither hear, nor give credence to her words. A mighty +anguish filled his bosom. He climbed upon the summit of the mountain, +and pained himself grievously to bring his journey to an end. This he +might not do. He reeled and fell, nor could he rise again, for the +heart had burst within his breast. + +When the maiden saw her lover's piteous plight, she deemed that he had +swooned by reason of his pain. She kneeled hastily at his side, and +put the enchanted brewage to his lips, but he could neither drink nor +speak, for he was dead, as I have told you. She bewailed his evil lot, +with many shrill cries, and flung the useless flacket far away. The +precious potion bestrewed the ground, making a garden of that desolate +place. For many saving herbs have been found there since that day by +the simple folk of that country, which from the magic philtre derived +all their virtue. + +But when the maiden knew that her lover was dead, she made such +wondrous sorrow, as no man had ever seen. She kissed his eyes and +mouth, and falling upon his body, took him in her arms, and pressed +him closely to her breast. There was no heart so hard as not to be +touched by her sorrow; for in this fashion died a dame, who was fair +and sweet and gracious, beyond the wont of the daughters of men. + +Now the King and his company, since these two lovers came not again, +presently climbed the mountain to learn their end. But when the King +came upon them lifeless, and fast in that embrace, incontinent he fell +to the ground, bereft of sense. After his speech had returned to him, +he was passing heavy, and lamented their doleful case, and thus did +all his people with him. + +Three days they kept the bodies of these two fair children from earth, +with uncovered face. On the third day they sealed them fast in a +goodly coffin of marble, and by the counsel of all men, laid them +softly to rest on that mountain where they died. Then they departed +from them, and left them together, alone. + +Since this adventure of the Two Children this hill is known as the +Mountain of the Two Lovers, and their story being bruited abroad, the +Breton folk have made a Lay thereof, even as I have rehearsed before +you. + + + + +VIII + + +THE LAY OF THE WERE-WOLF + +Amongst the tales I tell you once again, I would not forget the Lay of +the Were-Wolf. Such beasts as he are known in every land. Bisclavaret +he is named in Brittany; whilst the Norman calls him Garwal. + +It is a certain thing, and within the knowledge of all, that many a +christened man has suffered this change, and ran wild in woods, as +a Were-Wolf. The Were-Wolf is a fearsome beast. He lurks within the +thick forest, mad and horrible to see. All the evil that he may, he +does. He goeth to and fro, about the solitary place, seeking man, in +order to devour him. Hearken, now, to the adventure of the Were-Wolf, +that I have to tell. + +In Brittany there dwelt a baron who was marvellously esteemed of all +his fellows. He was a stout knight, and a comely, and a man of office +and repute. Right private was he to the mind of his lord, and dear to +the counsel of his neighbours. This baron was wedded to a very worthy +dame, right fair to see, and sweet of semblance. All his love was set +on her, and all her love was given again to him. One only grief had +this lady. For three whole days in every week her lord was absent from +her side. She knew not where he went, nor on what errand. Neither did +any of his house know the business which called him forth. + +On a day when this lord was come again to his house, altogether +joyous and content, the lady took him to task, right sweetly, in +this fashion, "Husband," said she, "and fair, sweet friend, I have a +certain thing to pray of you. Right willingly would I receive this +gift, but I fear to anger you in the asking. It is better for me to +have an empty hand, than to gain hard words." + +When the lord heard this matter, he took the lady in his arms, very +tenderly, and kissed her. + +"Wife," he answered, "ask what you will. What would you have, for it +is yours already?" + +"By my faith," said the lady, "soon shall I be whole. Husband, right +long and wearisome are the days that you spend away from your home. +I rise from my bed in the morning, sick at heart, I know not why. So +fearful am I, lest you do aught to your loss, that I may not find any +comfort. Very quickly shall I die for reason of my dread. Tell me now, +where you go, and on what business! How may the knowledge of one who +loves so closely, bring you to harm?" + +"Wife," made answer the lord, "nothing but evil can come if I tell you +this secret. For the mercy of God do not require it of me. If you but +knew, you would withdraw yourself from my love, and I should be lost +indeed." + +When the lady heard this, she was persuaded that her baron sought to +put her by with jesting words. Therefore she prayed and required +him the more urgently, with tender looks and speech, till he was +overborne, and told her all the story, hiding naught. + +"Wife, I become Bisclavaret. I enter in the forest, and live on prey +and roots, within the thickest of the wood." + +After she had learned his secret, she prayed and entreated the more as +to whether he ran in his raiment, or went spoiled of vesture. + +"Wife," said he, "I go naked as a beast." + +"Tell me, for hope of grace, what you do with your clothing?" + +"Fair wife, that will I never. If I should lose my raiment, or even be +marked as I quit my vesture, then a Were-Wolf I must go for all the +days of my life. Never again should I become man, save in that hour my +clothing were given back to me. For this reason never will I show my +lair." + +"Husband," replied the lady to him, "I love you better than all the +world. The less cause have you for doubting my faith, or hiding any +tittle from me. What savour is here of friendship? How have I made +forfeit of your love; for what sin do you mistrust my honour? Open now +your heart, and tell what is good to be known." + +So at the end, outwearied and overborne by her importunity, he could +no longer refrain, but told her all. + +"Wife," said he, "within this wood, a little from the path, there is a +hidden way, and at the end thereof an ancient chapel, where oftentimes +I have bewailed my lot. Near by is a great hollow stone, concealed by +a bush, and there is the secret place where I hide my raiment, till I +would return to my own home." + +On hearing this marvel the lady became sanguine of visage, because of +her exceeding fear. She dared no longer to lie at his side, and turned +over in her mind, this way and that, how best she could get her from +him. Now there was a certain knight of those parts, who, for a great +while, had sought and required this lady for her love. This knight had +spent long years in her service, but little enough had he got thereby, +not even fair words, or a promise. To him the dame wrote a letter, and +meeting, made her purpose plain. + +"Fair friend," said she, "be happy. That which you have coveted so +long a time, I will grant without delay. Never again will I deny your +suit. My heart, and all I have to give, are yours, so take me now as +love and dame." + +Right sweetly the knight thanked her for her grace, and pledged her +faith and fealty. When she had confirmed him by an oath, then she told +him all this business of her lord--why he went, and what he became, +and of his ravening within the wood. So she showed him of the chapel, +and of the hollow stone, and of how to spoil the Were-Wolf of his +vesture. Thus, by the kiss of his wife, was Bisclavaret betrayed. +Often enough had he ravished his prey in desolate places, but from +this journey he never returned. His kinsfolk and acquaintance came +together to ask of his tidings, when this absence was noised abroad. +Many a man, on many a day, searched the woodland, but none might find +him, nor learn where Bisclavaret was gone. + +The lady was wedded to the knight who had cherished her for so long a +space. More than a year had passed since Bisclavaret disappeared. Then +it chanced that the King would hunt in that self-same wood where the +Were-Wolf lurked. When the hounds were unleashed they ran this way and +that, and swiftly came upon his scent. At the view the huntsman winded +on his horn, and the whole pack were at his heels. They followed him +from morn to eve, till he was torn and bleeding, and was all adread +lest they should pull him down. Now the King was very close to the +quarry, and when Bisclavaret looked upon his master, he ran to him for +pity and for grace. He took the stirrup within his paws, and fawned +upon the prince's foot. The King was very fearful at this sight, but +presently he called his courtiers to his aid. + +"Lords," cried he, "hasten hither, and see this marvellous thing. Here +is a beast who has the sense of man. He abases himself before his foe, +and cries for mercy, although he cannot speak. Beat off the hounds, +and let no man do him harm. We will hunt no more to-day, but return to +our own place, with the wonderful quarry we have taken." + +The King turned him about, and rode to his hall, Bisclavaret following +at his side. Very near to his master the Were-Wolf went, like any dog, +and had no care to seek again the wood. When the King had brought him +safely to his own castle, he rejoiced greatly, for the beast was fair +and strong, no mightier had any man seen. Much pride had the King in +his marvellous beast. He held him so dear, that he bade all those who +wished for his love, to cross the Wolf in naught, neither to strike +him with a rod, but ever to see that he was richly fed and kennelled +warm. This commandment the Court observed willingly. So all the day +the Wolf sported with the lords, and at night he lay within the +chamber of the King. There was not a man who did not make much of the +beast, so frank was he and debonair. None had reason to do him wrong, +for ever was he about his master, and for his part did evil to none. +Every day were these two companions together, and all perceived that +the King loved him as his friend. + +Hearken now to that which chanced. + +The King held a high Court, and bade his great vassals and barons, and +all the lords of his venery to the feast. Never was there a goodlier +feast, nor one set forth with sweeter show and pomp. Amongst those who +were bidden, came that same knight who had the wife of Bisclavaret for +dame. He came to the castle, richly gowned, with a fair company, but +little he deemed whom he would find so near. Bisclavaret marked his +foe the moment he stood within the hall. He ran towards him, and +seized him with his fangs, in the King's very presence, and to the +view of all. Doubtless he would have done him much mischief, had not +the King called and chidden him, and threatened him with a rod. Once, +and twice, again, the Wolf set upon the knight in the very light of +day. All men marvelled at his malice, for sweet and serviceable was +the beast, and to that hour had shown hatred of none. With one consent +the household deemed that this deed was done with full reason, and +that the Wolf had suffered at the knight's hand some bitter wrong. +Right wary of his foe was the knight until the feast had ended, and +all the barons had taken farewell of their lord, and departed, each to +his own house. With these, amongst the very first, went that lord whom +Bisclavaret so fiercely had assailed. Small was the wonder that he was +glad to go. + +No long while after this adventure it came to pass that the courteous +King would hunt in that forest where Bisclavaret was found. With the +prince came his wolf, and a fair company. Now at nightfall the King +abode within a certain lodge of that country, and this was known of +that dame who before was the wife of Bisclavaret. In the morning the +lady clothed her in her most dainty apparel, and hastened to the +lodge, since she desired to speak with the King, and to offer him a +rich present. When the lady entered in the chamber, neither man nor +leash might restrain the fury of the Wolf. He became as a mad dog in +his hatred and malice. Breaking from his bonds he sprang at the lady's +face, and bit the nose from her visage. From every side men ran to the +succour of the dame. They beat off the wolf from his prey, and for a +little would have cut him in pieces with their swords. But a certain +wise counsellor said to the King, + +"Sire, hearken now to me. This beast is always with you, and there is +not one of us all who has not known him for long. He goes in and out +amongst us, nor has molested any man, neither done wrong or felony to +any, save only to this dame, one only time as we have seen. He has +done evil to this lady, and to that knight, who is now the husband of +the dame. Sire, she was once the wife of that lord who was so close +and private to your heart, but who went, and none might find where he +had gone. Now, therefore, put the dame in a sure place, and +question her straitly, so that she may tell--if perchance she knows +thereof--for what reason this Beast holds her in such mortal hate. For +many a strange deed has chanced, as well we know, in this marvellous +land of Brittany." + +The King listened to these words, and deemed the counsel good. He laid +hands upon the knight, and put the dame in surety in another place. He +caused them to be questioned right straitly, so that their torment was +very grievous. At the end, partly because of her distress, and partly +by reason of her exceeding fear, the lady's lips were loosed, and she +told her tale. She showed them of the betrayal of her lord, and how +his raiment was stolen from the hollow stone. Since then she knew not +where he went, nor what had befallen him, for he had never come +again to his own land. Only, in her heart, well she deemed and was +persuaded, that Bisclavaret was he. + +Straightway the King demanded the vesture of his baron, whether this +were to the wish of the lady, or whether it were against her wish. +When the raiment was brought him, he caused it to be spread before +Bisclavaret, but the Wolf made as though he had not seen. Then that +cunning and crafty counsellor took the King apart, that he might give +him a fresh rede. + +"Sire," said he, "you do not wisely, nor well, to set this raiment +before Bisclavaret, in the sight of all. In shame and much tribulation +must he lay aside the beast, and again become man. Carry your wolf +within your most secret chamber, and put his vestment therein. Then +close the door upon him, and leave him alone for a space. So we shall +see presently whether the ravening beast may indeed return to human +shape." + +The King carried the Wolf to his chamber, and shut the doors upon +him fast. He delayed for a brief while, and taking two lords of his +fellowship with him, came again to the room. Entering therein, all +three, softly together, they found the knight sleeping in the King's +bed, like a little child. The King ran swiftly to the bed and taking +his friend in his arms, embraced and kissed him fondly, above a +hundred times. When man's speech returned once more, he told him of +his adventure. Then the King restored to his friend the fief that was +stolen from him, and gave such rich gifts, moreover, as I cannot tell. +As for the wife who had betrayed Bisclavaret, he bade her avoid his +country, and chased her from the realm. So she went forth, she and her +second lord together, to seek a more abiding city, and were no more +seen. + +The adventure that you have heard is no vain fable. Verily and indeed +it chanced as I have said. The Lay of the Were-Wolf, truly, was +written that it should ever be borne in mind. + + + + +IX + + +THE LAY OF THE ASH TREE + +Now will I tell you the Lay of the Ash Tree, according to the story +that I know. + +In ancient days there dwelt two knights in Brittany, who were +neighbours and close friends. These two lords were brave and worthy +gentlemen, rich in goods and lands, and near both in heart and home. +Moreover each was wedded to a dame. One of these ladies was with +child, and when her time was come, she was delivered of two boys. Her +husband was right happy and content. For the joy that was his, he sent +messages to his neighbour, telling that his wife had brought forth two +sons, and praying that one of them might be christened with his name. +The rich man was at meat when the messenger came before him. The +servitor kneeled before the dais, and told his message in his ear. The +lord thanked God for the happiness that had befallen his friend, +and bestowed a fair horse on the bringer of good tidings. His wife, +sitting at board with her husband, heard the story of the messenger, +and smiled at his news. Proud she was, and sly, with an envious heart, +and a rancorous tongue. She made no effort to bridle her lips, but +spoke lightly before the servants of the house, and said, + +"I marvel greatly that so reputable a man as our neighbour, should +publish his dishonour to my lord. It is a shameful thing for any wife +to have two children at a birth. We all know that no woman brings +forth two at one bearing, except two husbands have aided her therein." + +Her husband looked upon her in silence for awhile, and when he spoke +it was to blame her very sternly. + +"Wife," he said, "be silent. It is better to be dumb, than to utter +such words as these. As you know well, there is not a breath to +tarnish this lady's good name." + +The folk of the house, who listened to these words, stored them in +their hearts, and told abroad the tale, spoken by their lady. Very +soon it was known throughout Brittany. Greatly was the lady blamed for +her evil tongue, and not a woman who heard thereof--whether she were +rich or poor--but who scorned her for her malice. The servant who +carried the message, on his return repeated to his lord of what he had +seen and heard. Passing heavy was the knight, and knew not what to +do. He doubted his own true wife, and suspected her the more sorely, +because she had done naught that was in any way amiss. + +The lady, who so foully slandered her fellow, fell with child in the +same year. Her neighbour was avenged upon her, for when her term was +come, she became the mother of two daughters. Sick at heart was she. +She was right sorrowful, and lamented her evil case. + +"Alas," she said, "what shall I do, for I am dishonoured for all +my days. Shamed I am, it is the simple truth. When my lord and his +kinsfolk shall hear of what has chanced, they will never believe me +a stainless wife. They will remember how I judged all women in my +plight. They will recall how I said before my house, that my neighbour +could not have been doubly a mother, unless she had first been doubly +a wife. I have the best reason now to know that I was wrong, and I am +caught in my own snare. She who digs a pit for another, cannot tell +that she may not fall into the hole herself. If you wish to speak +loudly concerning your neighbour, it is best to say nothing of him +but in praise. The only way to keep me from shame, is that one of my +children should die. It is a great sin; but I would rather trust to +the mercy of God, than suffer scorn and reproach for the rest of my +life." + +The women about her comforted her as best they might in this trouble. +They told her frankly that they would not suffer such wrong to be +done, since the slaying of a child was not reckoned a jest. The lady +had a maiden near her person, whom she had long held and nourished. +The damsel was a freeman's daughter, and was greatly loved and +cherished of her mistress. When she saw the lady's tears, and heard +the bitterness of her complaint, anguish went to her heart, like a +knife. She stooped over her lady, striving to bring her comfort. + +"Lady," she said, "take it not so to heart. Give over this grief, for +all will yet be well. You shall deliver me one of these children, and +I will put her so far from you, that you shall never see her again, +nor know shame because of her. I will carry her safe and sound to the +door of a church. There I will lay her down. Some honest man shall +find her, and--please God--will be at the cost of her nourishing." + +Great joy had the lady to hear these words. She promised the maiden +that in recompense of her service, she would grant her such guerdon +as she should wish. The maiden took the babe--yet smiling in her +sleep--and wrapped her in a linen cloth. Above this she set a piece of +sanguine silk, brought by the husband of this dame from a bazaar in +Constantinople--fairer was never seen. With a silken lace they bound +a great ring to the child's arm. This ring was of fine gold, weighing +fully an ounce, and was set with garnets most precious. + +Letters were graven thereon, so that those who found the maid might +understand that she came of a good house. The damsel took the child, +and went out from the chamber. When night was come, and all was still, +she left the town, and sought the high road leading through the +forest. She held on her way, clasping the baby to her breast, till +from afar, to her right hand, she heard the howling of dogs and the +crowing of cocks. She deemed that she was near a town, and went the +lighter for the hope, directing her steps, there, whence the noises +came. Presently the damsel entered in a fair city, where was an Abbey, +both great and rich. This Abbey was worshipfully ordered, with many +nuns in their office and degree, and an Abbess in charge of all. The +maiden gazed upon the mighty house, and considered its towers and +walls, and the church with its belfry. She went swiftly to the door, +and setting the child upon the ground, kneeled humbly to make her +prayer. + +"Lord," said she, "for the sake of Thy Holy Name, if such be Thy will, +preserve this child from death." + +Her petition ended, the maiden looked about her, and saw an ash tree, +planted to give shadow in a sunny place. It was a fair tree, thick and +leafy, and was divided into four strong branches. The maiden took the +child again in her arms, and running to the ash, set her within the +tree. There she left her, commending her to the care of God. So she +returned to her mistress, and told her all that she had done. + +Now in this Abbey was a porter, whose duty it was to open the doors of +the church, before folk came to hear the service of God. This night +he rose at his accustomed hour, lighted candles and lamps, rang the +bells, and set wide the doors. His eyes fell upon the silken stuff +within the ash. He thought at first that some bold thief had hidden +his spoil within the tree. He felt with his hand to discover what it +might be, and found that it was a little child. The porter praised +God for His goodness; he took the babe, and going again to his house, +called to his daughter, who was a widow, with an infant yet in the +cradle. + +"Daughter," he cried, "get from bed at once; light your candle, and +kindle the fire. I bring you a little child, whom I have found within +our ash. Take her to your breast; cherish her against the cold, and +bathe her in warm water." + +The widow did according to her father's will. She kindled a fire, and +taking the babe, washed and cherished her in her need. Very certain +she was, when she saw that rich stuff of crimson samite, and the +golden ring about the arm, that the girl was come of an honourable +race. The next day, when the office was ended, the porter prayed the +Abbess that he might have speech with her as she left the church. He +related his story, and told of the finding of the child. The Abbess +bade him to fetch the child, dressed in such fashion as she was +discovered in the ash. The porter returned to his house, and showed +the babe right gladly to his dame. The Abbess observed the infant +closely, and said that she would be at the cost of her nourishing, +and would cherish her as a sister's child. She commanded the porter +strictly to forget that he took her from the ash. In this manner it +chanced that the maiden was tended of the Abbess. The lady considered +the maid as her niece, and since she was taken from the ash, gave her +the name of Frêne. By this name she was known of all, within the Abbey +precincts, where she was nourished. + +When Frêne came to that age in which a girl turns to woman, there was +no fairer maiden in Brittany, nor so sweet a damsel. Frank, she was, +and open, but discreet in semblance and in speech. To see her was to +love her, and to prize her smile above the beauty of the world. Now at +Dol there lived a lord of whom much good was spoken. I will tell you +his name. The folk of his country called him Buron. This lord heard +speak of the maiden, and began to love her, for the sweetness men +told of her. As he rode home from some tournament, he passed near the +convent, and prayed the Abbess that he might look upon her niece. The +Abbess gave him his desire. Greatly was the maiden to his mind. +Very fair he found her, sweetly schooled and fashioned, modest and +courteous to all. If he might not win her to his love, he counted +himself the more forlorn. This lord was at his wits end, for he knew +not what to do. If he repaired often to the convent, the Abbess would +consider of the cause of his comings, and he would never again see the +maiden with his eyes. One thing only gave him a little hope. Should he +endow the Abbey of his wealth, he would make it his debtor for ever. +In return he might ask a little room, where he might abide to have +their fellowship, and, at times, withdraw him from the world. This he +did. He gave richly of his goods to the Abbey. Often, in return, he +went to the convent, but for other reasons than for penitence and +peace. He besought the maiden, and with prayers and promises, +persuaded her to set upon him her love. When this lord was assured +that she loved him, on a certain day he reasoned with her in this +manner. + +"Fair friend," said he, "since you have given me your love, come with +me, where I can cherish you before all the world. You know, as well +as I, that if your aunt should perceive our friendship, she would be +passing wrath, and grieve beyond measure. If my counsel seems good, +let us flee together, you with me, and I with you. Certes, you shall +never have cause to regret your trust, and of my riches you shall have +the half." + +When she who loved so fondly heard these words, she granted of her +tenderness what it pleased him to have, and followed after where he +would. Frêne fled to her lover's castle, carrying with her that silken +cloth and ring, which might do her service on a day. These the Abbess +had given her again, telling her how one morning at prime she was +found upon an ash, this ring and samite her only wealth, since she was +not her niece. Right carefully had Frêne guarded her treasure from +that hour. She shut them closely in a little chest, and this coffret +she bore with her in her flight, for she would neither lose them nor +forget. + +The lord, with whom the maiden fled, loved and cherished her very +dearly. Of all the men and servants of his house, there was not +one--either great or small--but who loved and honoured her for her +simplicity. They lived long together in love and content, till the +fair days passed, and trouble came upon this lord. The knights of his +realm drew together, and many a time urged that he should put away his +friend, and wed with some rich gentlewoman. They would be joyous if a +son were born, to come after to his fief and heritage. The peril was +too great to suffer that he remained a bachelor, and without an heir. +Never more would they hold him as lord, or serve him with a good +heart, if he would not do according to their will. + +There being naught else to do, the lord deferred to this counsel of +his knights, and begged them to name the lady whom he needs must wed. + +"Sir," answered they, "there is a lord of these parts, privy to our +counsel, who has but one child, a maid, his only heir. Broad lands +will he give as her dowry. This damsel's name is Coudre, and in all +this country there is none so fair. Be advised: throw away the ash rod +you carry, and take the hazel as your staff.[1] The ash is a barren +stock; but the hazel is thick with nuts and delight. We shall be +content if you take this maiden as your wife, so it be to the will of +God, and she be given you of her kinsfolk." + +Buron demanded the hand of the lady in marriage, and her father and +kin betrothed her to the lord. Alas! it was hid from all, that these +two were twin sisters. It was Frêne's lot to be doubly abandoned, and +to see her lover become her sister's husband. When she learned that +her friend purposed taking to himself a wife, she made no outcry +against his falseness. She continued to serve her lord faithfully, and +was diligent in the business of his house. The sergeant and the varlet +were marvellously wrathful, when they knew that she must go from +amongst them. On the day appointed for the marriage, Buron bade his +friends and acquaintance to the feast. Together with these came +the Archbishop, and those of Dol who held of him their lands. His +betrothed was brought to his home by her mother. Great dread had the +mother because of Frêne, for she knew of the love that the lord bore +the maiden, and feared lest her daughter should be a stranger in her +own hall. She spoke to her son-in-law, counselling him to send Frêne +from his house, and to find her an honest man for her husband. Thus +there would be quittance between them. Very splendid was the feast. +Whilst all was mirth and jollity, the damsel visited the chambers, to +see that each was ordered to her lord's pleasure. She hid the torment +in her heart, and seemed neither troubled nor downcast. She compassed +the bride with every fair observance, and waited upon her right +daintily. + +[Footnote 1: This is a play on words; Frêne in the French, meaning +ash, and Coudre meaning hazel.] + +Her courage was marvellous to that company of lords and ladies, who +observed her curiously. The mother of the bride regarded her also, and +praised her privily. She said aloud that had she known the sweetness +of this lady, she would not have taken her lover from her, nor spoiled +her life for the sake of the bride. The night being come the damsel +entered in the bridal chamber to deck the bed against her lord. She +put off her mantle, and calling the chamberlains, showed them how +their master loved to lie. His bed being softly arrayed, a coverlet +was spread upon the linen sheets. Frêne looked upon the coverlet: +in her eyes it showed too mean a garnishing for so fair a lord. +She turned it over in her mind, and going to her coffret she took +therefrom that rich stuff of sanguine silk, and set it on the couch. +This she did not only in honour of her friend, but that the Archbishop +might not despise the house, when he blessed the marriage bed, +according to the rite. When all was ready the mother carried the bride +to that chamber where she should lie, to disarray her for the night. +Looking upon the bed she marked the silken coverlet, for she had never +seen so rich a cloth, save only that in which she wrapped her child. +When she remembered of this thing, her heart turned to water. She +summoned a chamberlain. + +"Tell me," she said, "tell me in good faith where this garniture was +found." + +"Lady," he made reply, "that you shall know. Our damsel spread it on +the bed, because this dossal is richer than the coverlet that was +there before." + +The lady called for the damsel. Frêne came before her in haste, being +yet without her mantle. All the mother moved within her, as she plied +her with questions. + +"Fair friend, hide it not a whit from me. Tell me truly where this +fair samite was found; whence came it; who gave it to you? Answer +swiftly, and tell me who bestowed on you this cloth?" + +The damsel made answer to her: + +"Lady, my aunt, the Abbess, gave me this silken stuff, and charged me +to keep it carefully. At the same time she gave me a ring, which those +who put me forth, had bound upon me." + +"Fair friend, may I see this ring?" + +"Certes, lady, I shall be pleased to show it." + +The lady looked closely on the ring, when it was brought. She knew +again her own, and the crimson samite flung upon the bed. No doubt was +in her mind. She knew and was persuaded that Frêne was her very child. +All words were spoken, and there was nothing more to hide. + +"Thou art my daughter, fair friend." + +Then for reason of the pity that was hers, she fell to the ground, and +lay in a swoon. When the lady came again to herself, she sent for her +husband, who, all adread, hastened to the chamber. He marvelled the +more sorely when his wife fell at his feet, and embracing him closely, +entreated pardon for the evil that she had done. + +Knowing nothing of her trespass, he made reply, "Wife, what is this? +Between you and me there is nothing to call for forgiveness. Pardon +you may have for whatever fault you please. Tell me plainly what is +your wish." + +"Husband, my offence is so black, that you had better give me +absolution before I tell you the sin. A long time ago, by reason of +lightness and malice, I spoke evil of my neighbour, whenas she bore +two sons at a birth. I fell afterwards into the very pit that I had +digged. Though I told you that I was delivered of a daughter, the +truth is that I had borne two maids. One of these I wrapped in our +stuff of samite, together with the ring you gave me the first time we +met, and caused her to be laid beside a church. Such a sin will out. +The cloth and the ring I have found, and I have recognised our maid, +whom I had lost by my own folly. She is this very damsel--so fair and +amiable to all--whom the knight so greatly loved. Now we have married +the lord to her sister." + +The husband made answer, "Wife, if your sin be double, our joy is +manifold. Very tenderly hath God dealt with us, in giving us back our +child. I am altogether joyous and content to have two daughters for +one. Daughter, come to your father's side." + +The damsel rejoiced greatly to hear this story. Her father tarried no +longer, but seeking his son-in-law, brought him to the Archbishop, and +related the adventure. The knight knew such joy as was never yet. The +Archbishop gave counsel that on the morrow he would part him and her +whom he had joined together. This was done, for in the morning he +severed them, bed and board. Afterwards he married Frêne to her +friend, and her father accorded the damsel with a right good heart. +Her mother and sister were with her at the wedding, and for dowry her +father gave her the half of his heritage. When they returned to their +own realm they took Coudre, their daughter, with them. There she was +granted to a lord of those parts, and rich was the feast. + +When this adventure was bruited abroad, and all the story, the Lay of +the Ash Tree was written, so called of the lady, named Frêne. + + + + +X + + +THE LAY OF THE HONEYSUCKLE + +With a glad heart and right good mind will I tell the Lay that men +call Honeysuckle; and that the truth may be known of all it shall be +told as many a minstrel has sung it to my ear, and as the scribe hath +written it for our delight. It is of Tristan and Isoude, the Queen. +It is of a love which passed all other love, of love from whence came +wondrous sorrow, and whereof they died together in the self-same day. + +King Mark was sorely wrath with Tristan, his sister's son, and bade +him avoid his realm, by reason of the love he bore the Queen. So +Tristan repaired to his own land, and dwelt for a full year in South +Wales, where he was born. Then since he might not come where he would +be, Tristan took no heed to his ways, but let his life run waste to +Death. Marvel not overmuch thereat, for he who loves beyond measure +must ever be sick in heart and hope, when he may not win according +to his wish. So sick in heart and mind was Tristan that he left his +kingdom, and returned straight to the realm of his banishment, because +that in Cornwall dwelt the Queen. There he hid privily in the deep +forest, withdrawn from the eyes of men; only when the evening was +come, and all things sought their rest, he prayed the peasant and +other mean folk of that country, of their charity to grant him shelter +for the night. From the serf he gathered tidings of the King. These +gave again to him what they, in turn, had taken from some outlawed +knight. Thus Tristan learned that when Pentecost was come King Mark +purposed to hold high Court at Tintagel, and keep the feast with pomp +and revelry; moreover that thither would ride Isoude, the Queen. + +When Tristan heard this thing he rejoiced greatly, since the Queen +might not adventure through the forest, except he saw her with his +eyes. After the King had gone his way, Tristan entered within the +wood, and sought the path by which the Queen must come. There he cut a +wand from out a certain hazel-tree, and having trimmed and peeled it +of its bark, with his dagger he carved his name upon the wood. This he +placed upon her road, for well he knew that should the Queen but mark +his name she would bethink her of her friend. Thus had it chanced +before. For this was the sum of the writing set upon the wand, for +Queen Isoude's heart alone: how that in this wild place Tristan had +lurked and waited long, so that he might look upon her face, since +without her he was already dead. Was it not with them as with the +Honeysuckle and the Hazel tree she was passing by! So sweetly laced +and taken were they in one close embrace, that thus they might remain +whilst life endured. But should rough hands part so fond a clasping, +the hazel would wither at the root, and the honeysuckle must fail. +Fair friend, thus is the case with us, nor you without me, nor I +without you. + +Now the Queen fared at adventure down the forest path. She spied the +hazel wand set upon her road, and well she remembered the letters +and the name. She bade the knights of her company to draw rein, and +dismount from their palfreys, so that they might refresh themselves a +little. When her commandment was done she withdrew from them a space, +and called to her Brangwaine, her maiden, and own familiar friend. +Then she hastened within the wood, to come on him whom more she loved +than any living soul. How great the joy between these twain, that once +more they might speak together softly, face to face. Isoude showed him +her delight. She showed in what fashion she strove to bring peace +and concord betwixt Tristan and the King, and how grievously his +banishment had weighed upon her heart. Thus sped the hour, till it +was time for them to part; but when these lovers freed them from +the other's arms, the tears were wet upon their cheeks. So Tristan +returned to Wales, his own realm, even as his uncle bade. But for the +joy that he had had of her, his friend, for her sweet face, and for +the tender words that she had spoken, yea, and for that writing upon +the wand, to remember all these things, Tristan, that cunning harper, +wrought a new Lay, as shortly I have told you. Goatleaf, men call this +song in English. Chèvrefeuille it is named in French; but Goatleaf +or Honeysuckle, here you have the very truth in the Lay that I have +spoken. + + + + +XI + + +THE LAY OF EQUITAN + +In ancient days many a noble lord lived in Brittany beyond the Seas. +By reason of their courtesy and nobleness they would gladly keep +in remembrance the deeds that were done in the land. That these +marvellous things should not be forgotten they fashioned them into +Lays. Amongst these Lays I have heard tell of one which is not made to +die as though it had never been. + +Equitan, lord of Nantes, was a loyal and courteous gentleman, of great +worth, beloved by all in his own country. He was set on pleasure, and +was Love's lover, as became a gentle knight. Like many others who dote +on woman, he observed neither sense nor measure in love. But it is in +the very nature of Love that proportion cannot enter into the matter. + +Equitan had for seneschal a right brave and loyal knight, who was +captain of his army, and did justice in his realm. He was often abroad +upon his master's business, for the King would not forego his delight +for any reason whatever. To dance, to hunt, to fish within the +river--this was all his joy. This seneschal was married to a wife, +by whom great evil came upon the land. Very desirable was the lady; +passing tender of body, and sweet of vesture, coiffed and fretted with +gold. Her eyes were blue; her face warmly coloured, with a fragrant +mouth, and a dainty nose. Certainly she had no peer in all the realm. +The King had heard much in praise of this lady and many a time +saluted her upon the way. He had also sent her divers gifts. Often he +considered in his mind how best he might get speech with the dame. For +his privy pleasure this amorous King went to chase in that country +where the seneschal had his castle. The lady being in her own house, +Equitan craved a lodging for the night. By this means when the hunt +was done, he could speak with her, and show what was in his heart. +Equitan found the lady as discreet as courteous. He looked closely +upon her, for she was fair of face and person, and sweet of semblance +and address. Love bound him captive to his car. The god loosed a shaft +which entered deeply in his breast. The arrow pierced to his heart, +and from thenceforth he cared nothing for measure, or kingship, or +delight. Equitan was so surprised of the lady, that he remained silent +and pensive. He heard nothing, and nothing he could do. All night he +lay in unrest upon the bed, reproaching himself for what had come to +pass. + +"Alas," said he, "what evil fate has led me into this land! The sight +only of this lady has put such anguish into my heart that my members +fail beneath me. It is Love, I deem, who rides me thus cruelly. But +if I love this lady I shall do a great wrong. She is the wife of my +seneschal, and it is my duty to keep the same love and faith to him as +I would wish him to observe with me. If by any means I could know what +is in her mind, I should be the easier, for torment is doubled that +you bear alone. There is not a dame, however curst, but would rather +love than not; for if she were a contemner of love where would be her +courtesy? But if she loves, there is not a woman under the sky who +would not suck thereout all the advantage that she may. If the matter +came to the ears of the seneschal, he ought not to think too hardly +of me. He cannot hope to keep such treasure for himself alone; and, +certes, I shall claim my portion." + +Equitan tossed on his bed, and sighed. His thoughts were still on the +lady, so that in a little he said, "I think of the ford, before I come +to the river. I go too quickly, for I know not yet whether the lady +will take me as her friend. But know I will as swiftly as I can, since +I cannot get rest or sleep. I will come before her as soon as it is +day, and if she feels as I feel, the sooner I shall be rid of my +pain." + +The King kept vigil till the daylight came at last. He arose and went +forth, as if to the chase. He returned presently, telling that he +was sick, and going straight to his chamber, lay upon his bed. The +seneschal was very troubled, for he could not imagine the sickness of +which his master felt the pangs. He counselled his wife to seek their +guest, that she might cheer and comfort him in his trouble. When they +were alone the King opened to her his heart. He told her that he was +dying for her love, and that if she had no more than friendship to +offer, he preferred death before life. + +"Sire," replied the dame, "I require a little time to think of what +you say, for I cannot answer yes or no, without thought, in a business +of this moment. I am not of your wealth, and you are too high a lord, +for your love to do more than rest lightly on me. When you have had +your desire, it will as lightly fly away. My sorrow would be overlong, +if I should love you, and grant you what you wish. It is much the +best that between you and me love should not be spoken of. You are +a puissant prince; my husband is one of your vassals, and faith and +trust should bind us--not the dangerous bond of love. Love is only +lasting between like and like. Better is the love of an honest man--so +he be of sense and worth--than that of a prince or king, with no +loyalty in him. She who sets her love more highly than she can reach, +may pluck no fruit from the tree. The rich man deems that love is his +of right. He prays little of his friend, for he thinks none dare +take her from his hand, and that her tenderness is his by prize of +lordship." + +When she had ceased, Equitan made answer, "Lady, I can offer you but +short thanks for your words, since they savour of scant courtesy. You +speak of love as a burgess makes a bargain. Those who desire to get, +rather than to give, often find that they have the worser half of the +business. There is no lady under heaven--so she be courteous and kind +and of a good heart--but would grant her grace to a true lover, even +though she have beneath her cloak only a rich prince in his castle. +Those who care but for a fresh face--tricksters in love as a cozener +with dice--are justly flouted and deceived, as oftentimes we see. None +wastes pity on him who receives the stripes he deserves. Dear lady, +let me make myself plain. Do not regard me as your King; look on me as +your servant and your friend. I give my word and plight my troth that +all my happiness shall be found in your pleasure. Let me not die for +your love. You shall be the Dame, and I the page; you shall be the +scornful beauty, and I the prayer at your knee." + +The King prayed the lady so urgently, so tenderly he sued for grace, +that at the last she assured him of her love, and gave him the gift +of her heart. They granted rings one to another, and pledged affiance +between them. They kept this faith, and guarded this love, till they +died together, and there was an end to all. + +Equitan and the lady loved for a great while without it coming to the +ears of any. When the King desired to have speech of his friend, +he told his household that he would be alone, since it was the day +appointed for his bleeding. The King having shut the doors of his +chamber, there was none so bold as to enter therein, save he were +bidden of his lord. Whilst he was busied in this fashion, the +seneschal sat in open court to hear the pleas and right the wrong. He +was as much to the King's mind, as his wife was to the King's heart. +The lord was so assotted upon the lady that he would neither take +to himself a wife, nor listen to a word upon the matter. His people +blamed him loudly, so loudly that it came to the ears of the lady. She +was passing heavy, for she feared greatly that the barons would have +their way. When next she had speech with Equitan, in place of the kiss +and sweetness of her customary greeting, she came before him making +great sorrow and in tears. The King inquiring the reason of her +dolour, the lady replied, "Sire, I lament our love, and the trouble I +always said would be mine. You are about to wed the daughter of some +King, and my good days are over. Everybody says so, and I know it to +be true. What will become of me when you put me away! I will die, +rather than lose you, for I may have no other comfort." + +The King made answer very tenderly, "Fair friend, you need not fear. +There will never be wife of mine to put you from me. I shall never +wed, except your husband die, and then it is you who would be my queen +and lady. I will leave you for no other dame." + +The lady thanked him sweetly for his words. Much was she beholden to +him in her heart. Since she was assured that he would not leave her +for any other, she turned over swiftly in her mind the profit that +would come from her husband's death. Much happiness might be bought at +a little cost, if Equitan would lend his aid. + +The King made answer that he would do her will to the utmost of his +power, whether her counsel were for good or evil. + +"Sire," said the lady, "let it please you to hunt the forest within +the country where I dwell. You can lodge in my lord's castle, and +there you must be bled. Three days after your surgery is done, you +must call for your bath. My lord shall be bled with you, so that he +may go to his bathing at the same time. It will be your part to keep +him at your side, and make him your constant companion. It will be +mine to heat the water, and to carry the baths to your chamber. My +husband's bath shall boil so fiercely, that no breathing man, having +entered therein, may come forth living. When he is dead you must call +for your people, and show them how the seneschal has died suddenly in +his bath." + +Because of his love the King granted her desire, and promised to do +according to her will. Before three months were done the King rode to +the chase within the lady's realm. He caused surgeons to bleed him for +his health, and the seneschal with him. He said that he would take his +bath on the third day, and the seneschal required his, too, to be made +ready. The lady caused the water to be heated, and carried the baths +to the chamber. According to her device she set a bath beside each +bed, filling with boiling water that bath which her lord should enter. +Her lord had gone forth for a little, so for a space the King and the +lady were alone. They sat on the husband's bed, and looked tenderly +each on the other, near by that heated bath. The door of the chamber +was kept by a young damsel to give them warning. The seneschal made +haste to return, and would have struck on the door of the chamber, but +was stayed by the maiden. He put her by, and in his impatience flung +the door wide open. Entering he found his master and his wife clasped +in each other's arms. When the King saw the seneschal he had no +thought but to hide his dishonour. He started up, and sprang with +joined feet in the bath that was filled with boiling water. There he +perished miserably, in the very snare he had spread for another, who +was safe and sound. The seneschal marked what had happened to the +King. In his rage he turned to his wife, and laying hands upon her +thrust her, head first, in the self-same bath. So they died together, +the King first, and the lady afterwards, with him. + +Those who are willing to listen to fair words, may learn from this +ensample, that he who seeks another's ill often brings the evil upon +himself. + +As I have told you before, of this adventure the Bretons made the Lay +of Equitan, the lady whom he loved, and of their end. + + + + +XII + + +THE LAY OF MILON + +He who would tell divers tales must know how to vary the tune. To +win the favour of any, he must speak to the understanding of all. I +purpose in this place to show you the story of Milon, and--since few +words are best--I will set out the adventure as briefly as I may. + +Milon was born in South Wales. So great was his prowess that from the +day he was dubbed knight there was no champion who could stand before +him in the lists. He was a passing fair knight, open and brave, +courteous to his friends, and stern to his foes. Men praised his name +in whatever realm they talked of gallant deeds--Ireland, Norway, and +Wales, yea, from Jutland even to Albania. Since he was praised by the +frank, he was therefore envied of the mean. Nevertheless, by reason of +his skill with the spear, he was counted a very worshipful knight, and +was honourably entreated by many a prince in divers lands. + +In Milon's own realm there lived a lord whose name has gone from +mind. With this baron dwelt his daughter, a passing fair and gracious +damsel. Much talk had this maiden heard of Milon's knightly deeds, so +that she began to set her thoughts upon him, because of the good men +spoke of him. She sent him a message by a sure hand, saying that if +her love was to his mind, sweetly would it be to her heart. Milon +rejoiced greatly when he knew this thing. He thanked the lady for her +words, giving her love again in return for her own, and swearing that +he would never depart therefrom any day of his days. Beyond this +courteous answer Milon bestowed on the messenger costly gifts, and +made him promises that were richer still. + +"Friend," said he, "of your charity I pray you that I may have speech +with my friend, in such a fashion that none shall know of our meeting. +Carry her this, my golden ring. Tell her, on my part, that so she +pleases she shall come to me, or, if it be her better pleasure, I will +go to her." + +The messenger bade farewell, and returned to his lady. He placed the +ring in her hand, saying that he had done her will, as he was bidden +to do. + +Right joyous was the damsel to know that Milon's love was tender as +her own. She required her friend to come for speech within the private +garden of her house, where she was wont to take her delight. Milon +came at her commandment. He came so often, and so dearly she loved +him, that in the end she gave him all that maid may give. When the +damsel perceived how it was with her, she sent messages to her friend, +telling him of her case, and making great sorrow. + +"I have lost my father and all his wealth," said the lady, "for when +he hears of this matter he will make of me an example. Either I shall +be tormented with the sword, or else he will sell me as a slave in a +far country." + +(For such was the usage of our fathers in the days of this tale). + +Milon grieved sorely, and made answer that he would do the thing the +damsel thought most seemly to be done. + +"When the child is born," replied the lady, "you must carry him +forthwith to my sister. She is a rich dame, pitiful and good, and is +wedded to a lord of Northumberland. You will send messages with the +babe--both in writing and by speech--that the little innocent is her +sister's child. Whether it be a boy or girl his mother will have +suffered much because of him, and for her sister's sake you will pray +her to cherish the babe. Beyond this I shall set your signet by a lace +about his neck, and write letters wherein shall be made plain the name +of his sire, and the sad story of his mother. When he shall have grown +tall, and of an age to understand these matters, his aunt will give +him your ring, and rehearse to him the letter. If this be done, +perchance the orphan will not be fatherless all his days." + +Milon approved the counsel of the lady, and when her time had come she +was brought to bed of a boy. The old nurse who tended her mistress +was privy to the damsel's inmost mind. So warily she went to work, so +cunning was she in gloss and concealment, that none within the palace +knew that there was aught to hide. The damsel looked upon her boy, and +saw that he was very fair. She laced the ring about his neck, and set +the letter that it were death to find, within a silken chatelaine. The +child was then placed in his cradle, swathed close in white linen. A +pillow of feathers was put beneath his head, and over all was laid a +warm coverlet, wadded with fur. In this fashion the ancient nurse +gave the babe to his father, who awaited him within the garden. Milon +commended the child to his men, charging them to carry him loyally, by +such towns as they knew, to that lady beyond the Humber. The servitors +set forth, bearing the infant with them. Seven times a day they +reposed them in their journey, so that the women might nourish +the babe, and bathe and tend him duly. They served their lord so +faithfully, keeping such watch upon the way, that at the last they +won to the lady to whom they were bidden. The lady received them +courteously, as became her breeding. She broke the seal of the letter, +and when she was assured of what was therein, marvellously she +cherished the infant. These having bestowed the boy in accordance with +their lord's commandment, returned to their own land. + +Milon went forth from his realm to serve beyond the seas for guerdon. +His friend remained within her house and was granted by her father in +marriage to a right rich baron of that country. Though this baron was +a worthy knight, justly esteemed of all his fellows, the damsel was +grieved beyond measure when she knew her father's will. She called to +mind the past, and regretted that Milon had gone from the country, +since he would have helped her in her need. + +"Alas!" said the lady, "what shall I do? I doubt that I am lost, for +my lord will find that his bride is not a maid. If this becomes known +they will make me a bondwoman for all my days. Would that my friend +were here to free me from this coil. It were good for me to die rather +than to live, but by no means can I escape from their hands. They +have set warders about me, men, old and young, whom they call my +chamberlains, contemners of love, who delight themselves in sadness. +But endure it I must, for, alas, I know not how to die." + +So on the appointed day the lady was wedded to the baron, and her +husband took her to dwell with him in his fief. + +When Milon returned to his own country he was right heavy and +sorrowful to learn of this marriage. He lamented his wretched case, +but in this he found comfort, that he was not far from the realm where +the lady abode whom so tenderly he loved. Milon commenced to think +within himself how best he might send letters to the damsel that he +was come again to his home, yet so that none should have knowledge +thereof. He wrote a letter, and sealed it with his seal. This message +he made fast to the neck, and hid within the plumage of a swan that +was long his, and was greatly to his heart. He bade his squire to +come, and made him his messenger. + +"Change thy raiment swiftly," said he, "and hasten to the castle of my +friend. Take with thee my swan, and see that none, neither servant nor +handmaid, delivers the bird to my lady, save thyself alone." + +The squire did according to his lord's commandment. He made him ready +quickly, and went forth, bearing the swan with him. He went by the +nearest road, and passing through the streets of the city, came before +the portal of the castle. In answer to his summons the porter drew +near. + +"Friend," said he, "hearken to me. I am of Caerleon, and a fowler by +craft. Within my nets I have snared the most marvellous swan in the +world. This wondrous bird I would bestow forthwith upon your lady, but +perforce I must offer her the gift with my own hand." + +"Friend," replied the porter, "fowlers are not always welcomed of +ladies. If you come with me I will bring you where I may know whether +it pleases my lady to have speech with you and to receive your gift." + +The porter entered in the hall, where he found none but two lords +seated at a great table, playing chess for their delight. He swiftly +returned on his steps, and the fowler with him, so furtively withal +that the lords were not disturbed at their game, nor perceived aught +of the matter. They went therefore to the chamber of the lady. In +answer to their call the door was opened to them by a maiden, who +led them before her dame. When the swan was proffered to the lady +it pleased her to receive the gift. She summoned a varlet of her +household and gave the bird to his charge, commanding him to keep it +safely, and to see that it ate enough and to spare. + +"Lady," said the servitor, "I will do your bidding. We shall never +receive from any fowler on earth such another bird as this. The swan +is fit to serve at a royal table, for the bird is plump as he is +fair." + +The varlet put the swan in his lady's hands. She took the bird kindly, +and smoothing his head and neck, felt the letter that was hidden +beneath its feathers. The blood pricked in her veins, for well she +knew that the writing was sent her by her friend. She caused the +fowler to be given of her bounty, and bade the men to go forth from +her chamber. When they had parted the lady called a maiden to her aid. +She broke the seal, and unfastening the letter, came upon the name of +Milon at the head. She kissed the name a hundred times through her +tears. When she might read the writing she learned of the great pain +and dolour that her lover suffered by day and by night. In you--he +wrote--is all my pleasure, and in your white hands it lies to heal me +or to slay. Strive to find a plan by which we may speak as friend to +friend, if you would have me live. The knight prayed her in his letter +to send him an answer by means of the swan. If the bird were well +guarded, and kept without provand for three days, he would of a surety +fly back to the place from whence he came, with any message that the +lady might lace about his neck. + +When the damsel had considered the writing, and understood what was +put therein, she commanded that her bird should be tended carefully, +and given plenteously to eat and to drink. She held him for a month +within her chamber, but this was less from choice, than for the craft +that was necessary to obtain the ink and parchment requisite for her +writing. At the end she wrote a letter according to her heart, and +sealed it with her ring. The lady caused the swan to fast for three +full days; then having concealed the message about his neck, let him +take his flight. The bird was all anhungered for food, and remembering +well the home from which he drew, he returned thither as quickly as +his wings might bear him. + +He knew again his town, and his master's house, and descended to the +ground at Milon's very feet. Milon rejoiced greatly when he marked his +own. He caught the bird by his wings, and crying for his steward, bade +him give the swan to eat. The knight removed the missive from the +messenger's neck. He glanced from head to head of the letter, seeking +the means that he hoped to find, and the salutation he so tenderly +wished. Sweet to his heart was the writing, for the lady wrote that +without him there was no joy in her life, and since it was his desire +to hear by the swan, it would be her pleasure also. + +For twenty years the swan was made the messenger of these two lovers, +who might never win together. There was no speech between them, save +that carried by the bird. They caused the swan to fast for three days, +and then sent him on his errand. He to whom the letter came, saw to +it that the messenger was fed to heart's desire. Many a time the swan +went upon his journey, for however strictly the lady was held of her +husband, there was none who had suspicion of a bird. + +The dame beyond the Humber nourished and tended the boy committed to +her charge with the greatest care. When he was come to a fitting age +she made him to be knighted of her lord, for goodly and serviceable +was the lad. On the same day the aunt read over to him the letter, and +put in his hand the ring. She told him the name of his mother, and his +father's story. In all the world there was no worthier knight, nor a +more chivalrous and gallant gentleman. The lad hearkened diligently to +the lady's tale. He rejoiced greatly to hear of his father's prowess, +and was proud beyond measure of his renown. He considered within +himself, saying to his own heart, that much should be required of his +father's son, and that he would not be worthy of his blood if he did +not endeavour to merit his name. He determined therefore that he would +leave his country, and seek adventure as a knight errant, beyond the +sea. The varlet delayed no longer than the evening. On the morrow he +bade farewell to his aunt, who having warned and admonished him for +his good, gave him largely of her wealth, to bring him on his way. He +rode to Southampton, that he might find a ship equipped for sea, and +so came to Barfleur. Without any tarrying the lad went straight to +Brittany, where he spent his money and himself in feasts and in +tourneys. The rich men of the land were glad of his friendship, for +there was none who bore himself better in the press with spear or with +sword. What he took from the rich he bestowed on such knights as were +poor and luckless. These loved him greatly, since he gained largely +and spent freely, granting of his wealth to all. Wherever this knight +sojourned in the realm he bore away the prize. So debonair was he and +chivalrous that his fame and praise crossed the water, and were noised +abroad in his own land. Folk told how a certain knight from beyond the +Humber, who had passed the sea in quest of wealth and honour, had so +done, that by reason of his prowess, his liberality, and his modesty, +men called him the Knight Peerless, since they did not know his name. + +This praise of the good knight, and of his deeds, came to be heard of +Milon. Very dolent was he and sorely troubled that so young a knight +should be esteemed above his fathers. He marvelled greatly that the +stout spears of the past had not put on their harness and broken a +lance for their ancient honour. One thing he determined, that he +would cross the sea without delay, so that he might joust with the +dansellon, and abate his pride. In wrath and anger he purposed to +fight, to beat his adversary from the saddle, and bring him at last +to shame. After this was ended he would seek his son, of whom he had +heard nothing, since he had gone from his aunt's castle. Milon caused +his friend to know of his wishes. He opened out to her all his +thought, and craved her permission to depart. This letter he sent by +the swan, commending the bird to her care. + +When the lady heard of her lover's purpose, she thanked him for his +courtesy, for greatly was his counsel to her mind. She approved his +desire to quit the realm for the sake of his honour, and far from +putting let and hindrance in his path, trusted that in the end he +would bring again her son. Since Milon was assured of his friend's +goodwill, he arrayed himself richly, and crossing the sea to Normandy, +came afterwards into the land of the Bretons. There he sought +the friendship of the lords of that realm, and fared to all the +tournaments of which he might hear. Milon bore himself proudly, and +gave graciously of his wealth, as though he were receiving a gift. +He sojourned till the winter was past in that land, he, and a brave +company of knights whom he held in his house with him. When Easter +had come, and the season that men give to tourneys and wars and the +righting of their private wrongs, Milon considered how he could meet +with the knight whom men called Peerless. At that time a tournament +was proclaimed to be held at Mont St. Michel. Many a Norman and Breton +rode to the game; knights of Flanders and of France were there in +plenty, but few fared from England. Milon drew to the lists amongst +the first. He inquired diligently of the young champion, and all men +were ready to tell from whence he came, and of his harness, and of the +blazon on his shield. At length the knight appeared in the lists and +Milon looked upon the adversary he so greatly desired to see. Now in +this tournament a knight could joust with that lord who was set over +against him, or he could seek to break a lance with his chosen foe. A +player must gain or lose, and he might find himself opposed either +by his comrade or his enemy. Milon did well and worshipfully in the +press, and was praised of many that day. But the Knight Peerless +carried the cry from all his fellows, for none might stand before him, +nor rival him in skill and address. Milon observed him curiously. The +lad struck so heavily, he thrust home so shrewdly, that Milon's hatred +changed to envy as he watched. Very comely showed the varlet, and +much to Milon's mind. The older knight set himself over against the +champion, and they met together in the centre of the field. Milon +struck his adversary so fiercely, that the lance splintered in his +gauntlet; but the young knight kept his seat without even losing a +stirrup. In return his spear was aimed with such cunning that he bore +his antagonist to the ground. Milon lay upon the earth bareheaded, for +his helmet was unlaced in the shock. His hair and beard showed +white to all, and the varlet was heavy to look on him whom he had +overthrown. He caught the destrier by the bridle, and led him before +the stricken man. + +"Sir," said he, "I pray you to get upon your horse. I am right grieved +and vexed that I should have done this wrong. Believe me that it was +wrought unwittingly." + +Milon sprang upon his steed. He approved the courtesy of his +adversary, and looking upon the hand that held his bridle, he knew +again his ring. He made inquiry of the lad. + +"Friend," said he, "hearken to me. Tell me now the name of thy sire. +How art thou called; who is thy mother? I have seen much, and gone to +and fro about the world. All my life I have journeyed from realm to +realm, by reason of tourneys and quarrels and princes' wars, yet never +once by any knight have I been borne from my horse. This day I am +overthrown by a boy, and yet I cannot help but love thee." + +The varlet answered, "I know little of my father. I understand that +his name is Milon, and that he was a knight of Wales. He loved the +daughter of a rich man, and was loved again. My mother bore me in +secret, and caused me to be carried to Northumberland, where I was +taught and tended. An old aunt was at the costs of my nourishing. She +kept me at her side, till of all her gifts she gave me horse and arms, +and sent me here, where I have remained. In hope and wish I purpose to +cross the sea, and return to my own realm. There I would seek out my +father, and learn how it stands between him and my mother. I will show +him my golden ring, and I will tell him of such privy matters that he +may not deny our kinship, but must love me as a son, and ever hold me +dear." + +When Milon heard these words he could endure them no further. He got +him swiftly from his horse, and taking the lad by the fringe of his +hauberk, he cried, "Praise be to God, for now am I healed. Fair +friend, by my faith thou art my very son, for whom I came forth from +my own land, and have sought through all this realm." + +The varlet climbed from the saddle, and stood upon his feet. Father +and son kissed each other tenderly, with many comfortable words. Their +love was fair to see, and those who looked upon their meeting, wept +for joy and pity. + + +Milon and his son departed from the tournament so soon as it came +to an end, for the knight desired greatly to speak to the varlet at +leisure, and to open before him all his mind. They rode to their +hostel, and with the knights of their fellowship, passed the hours in +mirth and revelry. Milon spoke to the lad of his mother. He told him +of their long love, and how she was given by her father in marriage to +a baron of his realm. He rehearsed the years of separation, accepted +by both with a good heart, and of the messenger who carried letters +between them, when there was none they dared to trust in, save only +the swan. + +The son made answer, + +"In faith, fair father, let us return to our own land. There I will +slay this husband, and you shall yet be my mother's lord." + +This being accorded between them, on the morrow they made them ready +for the journey, and bidding farewell to their friends, set forth for +Wales. They embarked in a propitious hour, for a fair wind carried the +ship right swiftly to its haven. They had not ridden far upon their +road, when they met a certain squire of the lady's household on his +way to Brittany, bearing letters to Milon. His task was done long +before sundown in chancing on the knight. He gave over the sealed +writing with which he was charged, praying the knight to hasten to his +friend without any tarrying, since her husband was in his grave. Milon +rejoiced greatly when he knew this thing. He showed the message to his +son, and pressed forward without pause or rest. They made such speed, +that at the end they came to the castle where the lady had her +lodging. Light of heart was she when she clasped again her child. +These two fond lovers sought neither countenance of their kin, nor +counsel of any man. Their son handselled them together, and gave the +mother to his sire. From the day they were wed they dwelt in wealth +and in sweetness to the end of their lives. + +Of their love and content the minstrel wrought this Lay. I, also, who +have set it down in writing, have won guerdon enough just by telling +over the tale. + + + + +XIII + + +THE LAY OF YONEC + +Since I have commenced I would not leave any of these Lays untold. +The stories that I know I would tell you forthwith. My hope is now to +rehearse to you the story of Yonec, the son of Eudemarec, his mother's +first born child. + +In days of yore there lived in Britain a rich man, old and full of +years, who was lord of the town and realm of Chepstow. This town is +builded on the banks of the Douglas, and is renowned by reason of many +ancient sorrows which have there befallen. When he was well stricken +in years this lord took to himself a wife, that he might have children +to come after him in his goodly heritage. The damsel, who was bestowed +on this wealthy lord, came of an honourable house, and was kind and +courteous, and passing fair. She was beloved by all because of her +beauty, and none was more sweetly spoken of from Chepstow to Lincoln, +yea, or from there to Ireland. Great was their sin who married the +maiden to this aged man. Since she was young and gay, he shut her fast +within his tower, that he might the easier keep her to himself. He set +in charge of the damsel his elder sister, a widow, to hold her more +surely in ward. These two ladies dwelt alone in the tower, together +with their women, in a chamber by themselves. There the damsel might +have speech of none, except at the bidding of the ancient dame. More +than seven years passed in this fashion. The lady had no children for +her solace, and she never went forth from the castle to greet her +kinsfolk and her friends. Her husband's jealousy was such that when +she sought her bed, no chamberlain or usher was permitted in her +chamber to light the candles. The lady became passing heavy. She spent +her days in sighs and tears. Her loveliness began to fail, for she +gave no thought to her person. Indeed at times she hated the very +shadow of that beauty which had spoiled all her life. + +Now when April had come with the gladness of the birds, this lord rose +early on a day to take his pleasure in the woods. He bade his sister +to rise from her bed to make the doors fast behind him. She did his +will, and going apart, commenced to read the psalter that she carried +in her hand. The lady awoke, and shamed the brightness of the sun with +her tears. She saw that the old woman was gone forth from the chamber, +so she made her complaint without fear of being overheard. + +"Alas," said she, "in an ill hour was I born. My lot is hard to be +shut in this tower, never to go out till I am carried to my grave. Of +whom is this jealous lord fearful that he holds me so fast in prison? +Great is a man's folly always to have it in mind that he may be +deceived. I cannot go to church, nor hearken to the service of God. If +I might talk to folk, or have a little pleasure in my life, I should +show the more tenderness to my husband, as is my wish. Very greatly +are my parents and my kin to blame for giving me to this jealous old +man, and making us one flesh. I cannot even look to become a widow, +for he will never die. In place of the waters of baptism, certainly he +was plunged in the flood of the Styx. His nerves are like iron, and +his veins quick with blood as those of a young man. Often have I heard +that in years gone by things chanced to the sad, which brought their +sorrows to an end. A knight would meet with a maiden, fresh and fair +to his desire. Damsels took to themselves lovers, discreet and brave, +and were blamed of none. Moreover since these ladies were not seen of +any, except their friends, who was there to count them blameworthy! +Perchance I deceive myself, and in spite of all the tales, such +adventures happened to none. Ah, if only the mighty God would but +shape the world to my wish!" + +When the lady had made her plaint, as you have known, the shadow of a +great bird darkened the narrow window, so that she marvelled what it +might mean. This falcon flew straightway into the chamber, jessed and +hooded from the glove, and came where the dame was seated. Whilst +the lady yet wondered upon him, the tercel became a young and comely +knight before her eyes. The lady marvelled exceedingly at this +sorcery. Her blood turned to water within her, and because of her +dread she hid her face in her hands. By reason of his courtesy the +knight first sought to persuade her to put away her fears. + +"Lady," said he, "be not so fearful. To you this hawk shall be as +gentle as a dove. If you will listen to my words I will strive to make +plain what may now be dark. I have come in this shape to your tower +that I may pray you of your tenderness to make of me your friend. I +have loved you for long, and in my heart have esteemed your love above +anything in the world. Save for you I have never desired wife or maid, +and I shall find no other woman desirable, until I die. I should have +sought you before, but I might not come, nor even leave my own realm, +till you called me in your need. Lady, in charity, take me as your +friend." + +The lady took heart and courage whilst she hearkened to these words. +Presently she uncovered her face, and made answer. She said that +perchance she would be willing to give him again his hope, if only she +had assurance of his faith in God. This she said because of her fear, +but in her heart she loved him already by reason of his great beauty. +Never in her life had she beheld so goodly a youth, nor a knight more +fair. + +"Lady," he replied, "you ask rightly. For nothing that man can give +would I have you doubt my faith and affiance. I believe truly in God, +the Maker of all, who redeemed us from the woe brought on us by our +father Adam, in the eating of that bitter fruit. This God is and was +and ever shall be the life and light of us poor sinful men. If you +still give no credence to my word, ask for your chaplain; tell him +that since you are sick you greatly desire to hear the Service +appointed by God to heal the sinner of his wound. I will take your +semblance, and receive the Body of the Lord. You will thus be +certified of my faith, and never have reason to mistrust me more." + +When the sister of that ancient lord returned from her prayers to the +chamber, she found that the lady was awake. She told her that since it +was time to get her from bed, she would make ready her vesture. +The lady made answer that she was sick, and begged her to warn the +chaplain, for greatly she feared that she might die. The agèd dame +replied, + +"You must endure as best you may, for my lord has gone to the woods, +and none will enter in the tower, save me." + +Right distressed was the lady to hear these words. She called a +woman's wiles to her aid, and made seeming to swoon upon her bed. This +was seen by the sister of her lord, and much was she dismayed. She set +wide the doors of the chamber, and summoned the priest. The chaplain +came as quickly as he was able, carrying with him the Lord's Body. The +knight received the Gift, and drank of the Wine of that chalice; then +the priest went his way, and the old woman made fast the door behind +him. + +The knight and the lady were greatly at their ease; a comelier and a +blither pair were never seen. They had much to tell one to the other, +but the hours passed till it was time for the knight to go again to +his own realm. He prayed the dame to give him leave to depart, and she +sweetly granted his prayer, yet so only that he promised to return +often to her side. + +"Lady," he made answer, "so you please to require me at any hour, you +may be sure that I shall hasten at your pleasure. But I beg you to +observe such measure in the matter, that none may do us wrong. This +old woman will spy upon us night and day, and if she observes our +friendship, will certainly show it to her lord. Should this evil +come upon us, for both it means separation, and for me, most surely, +death." + +The knight returned to his realm, leaving behind him the happiest lady +in the land. On the morrow she rose sound and well, and went lightly +through the week. She took such heed to her person, that her former +beauty came to her again. The tower that she was wont to hate as her +prison, became to her now as a pleasant lodging, that she would not +leave for any abode and garden on earth. There she could see her +friend at will, when once her lord had gone forth from the chamber. +Early and late, at morn and eve, the lovers met together. God grant +her joy was long, against the evil day that came. + +The husband of the lady presently took notice of the change in +his wife's fashion and person. He was troubled in his soul, and +misdoubting his sister, took her apart to reason with her on a day. +He told her of his wonder that his dame arrayed her so sweetly, and +inquired what this should mean. The crone answered that she knew no +more than he, "for we have very little speech one with another. She +sees neither kin nor friend; but, now, she seems quite content to +remain alone in her chamber." + +The husband made reply, + +"Doubtless she is content, and well content. But by my faith, we must +do all we may to discover the cause. Hearken to me. Some morning when +I have risen from bed, and you have shut the doors upon me, make +pretence to go forth, and let her think herself alone. You must hide +yourself in a privy place, where you can both hear and see. We shall +then learn the secret of this new found joy." + +Having devised this snare the twain went their ways. Alas, for those +who were innocent of their counsel, and whose feet would soon be +tangled in the net. + +Three days after, this husband pretended to go forth from his house. +He told his wife that the King had bidden him by letters to his Court, +but that he should return speedily. He went from the chamber, making +fast the door. His sister arose from her bed, and hid behind her +curtains, where she might see and hear what so greedily she desired +to know. The lady could not sleep, so fervently she wished for her +friend. The knight came at her call, but he might not tarry, nor +cherish her more than one single hour. Great was the joy between them, +both in word and tenderness, till he could no longer stay. All this +the crone saw with her eyes, and stored in her heart. She watched the +fashion in which he came, and the guise in which he went. But she was +altogether fearful and amazed that so goodly a knight should wear the +semblance of a hawk. When the husband returned to his house--for +he was near at hand--his sister told him that of which she was the +witness, and of the truth concerning the knight. Right heavy was he +and wrathful. Straightway he contrived a cunning gin for the slaying +of this bird. He caused four blades of steel to be fashioned, with +point and edge sharper than the keenest razor. These he fastened +firmly together, and set them securely within that window, by which +the tercel would come to his lady. Ah, God, that a knight so fair +might not see nor hear of this wrong, and that there should be none to +show him of such treason. + +On the morrow the husband arose very early, at daybreak, saying that +he should hunt within the wood. His sister made the doors fast behind +him, and returned to her bed to sleep, because it was yet but dawn. +The lady lay awake, considering of the knight whom she loved so +loyally. Tenderly she called him to her side. Without any long +tarrying the bird came flying at her will. He flew in at the open +window, and was entangled amongst the blades of steel. One blade +pierced his body so deeply, that the red blood gushed from the wound. +When the falcon knew that his hurt was to death, he forced himself to +pass the barrier, and coming before his lady fell upon her bed, so +that the sheets were dabbled with his blood. The lady looked upon her +friend and his wound, and was altogether anguished and distraught. + +"Sweet friend," said the knight, "it is for you that my life is lost. +Did I not speak truly that if our loves were known, very surely I +should be slain?" + +On hearing these words the lady's head fell upon the pillow, and for a +space she lay as she were dead. The knight cherished her sweetly. He +prayed her not to sorrow overmuch, since she should bear a son who +would be her exceeding comfort. His name should be called Yonec. He +would prove a valiant knight, and would avenge both her and him by +slaying their enemy. The knight could stay no longer, for he was +bleeding to death from his hurt. In great dolour of mind and body he +flew from the chamber. The lady pursued the bird with many shrill +cries. In her desire to follow him she sprang forth from the window. +Marvellous it was that she was not killed outright, for the window was +fully twenty feet from the ground. When the lady made her perilous +leap she was clad only in her shift. Dressed in this fashion she set +herself to follow the knight by the drops of blood which dripped from +his wound. She went along the road that he had gone before, till she +lighted on a little lodge. This lodge had but one door, and it was +stained with blood. By the marks on the lintel she knew that Eudemarec +had refreshed him in the hut, but she could not tell whether he was +yet within. The damsel entered in the lodge, but all was dark, and +since she might not find him, she came forth, and pursued her way. She +went so far that at the last the lady came to a very fair meadow. She +followed the track of blood across this meadow, till she saw a city +near at hand. This fair city was altogether shut in with high walls. +There was no house, nor hall, nor tower, but shone bright as silver, +so rich were the folk who dwelt therein. Before the town lay a still +water. To the right spread a leafy wood, and on the left hand, near by +the keep, ran a clear river. By this broad stream the ships drew to +their anchorage, for there were above three hundred lying in the +haven. The lady entered in the city by the postern gate. The gouts of +freshly fallen blood led her through the streets to the castle. None +challenged her entrance to the city; none asked of her business in the +streets; she passed neither man nor woman upon her way. Spots of red +blood lay on the staircase of the palace. The lady entered and found +herself within a low ceiled room, where a knight was sleeping on a +pallet. She looked upon his face and passed beyond. She came within a +larger room, empty, save for one lonely couch, and for the knight who +slept thereon. But when the lady entered in the third chamber she saw +a stately bed, that well she knew to be her friend's. This bed was of +inwrought gold, and was spread with silken cloths beyond price. The +furniture was worth the ransom of a city, and waxen torches in sconces +of silver lighted the chamber, burning night and day. Swiftly as the +lady had come she knew again her friend, directly she saw him with her +eyes. She hastened to the bed, and incontinently swooned for grief. +The knight clasped her in his arms, bewailing his wretched lot, but +when she came to her mind, he comforted her as sweetly as he might. + +"Fair friend, for God's love I pray you get from hence as quickly as +you are able. My time will end before the day, and my household, in +their wrath, may do you a mischief if you are found in the castle. +They are persuaded that by reason of your love I have come to my +death. Fair friend, I am right heavy and sorrowful because of you." + +The lady made answer, "Friend, the best thing that can befall me is +that we shall die together. How may I return to my husband? If he +finds me again he will certainly slay me with the sword." + +The knight consoled her as he could. He bestowed a ring upon his +friend, teaching her that so long as she wore the gift, her husband +would think of none of these things, nor care for her person, nor seek +to revenge him for his wrongs. Then he took his sword and rendered it +to the lady, conjuring her by their great love, never to give it to +the hand of any, till their son should be counted a brave and worthy +knight. When that time was come she and her lord would go--together +with the son--to a feast. They would lodge in an Abbey, where should +be seen a very fair tomb. There her son must be told of this death; +there he must be girt with this sword. In that place shall be +rehearsed the tale of his birth, and his father, and all this bitter +wrong. And then shall be seen what he will do. + +When the knight had shown his friend all that was in his heart, he +gave her a bliaut, passing rich, that she might clothe her body, and +get her from the palace. She went her way, according to his command, +bearing with her the ring, and the sword that was her most precious +treasure. She had not gone half a mile beyond the gate of the city +when she heard the clash of bells, and the cries of men who lamented +the death of their lord. Her grief was such that she fell four +separate times upon the road, and four times she came from out her +swoon. She bent her steps to the lodge where her friend had refreshed +him, and rested for awhile. Passing beyond she came at last to her own +land, and returned to her husband's tower. There, for many a day, she +dwelt in peace, since--as Eudemarec foretold--her lord gave no thought +to her outgoings, nor wished to avenge him, neither spied upon her any +more. + +In due time the lady was delivered of a son, whom she named Yonec. +Very sweetly nurtured was the lad. In all the realm there was not his +like for beauty and generosity, nor one more skilled with the spear. +When he was of a fitting age the King dubbed him knight. Hearken now, +what chanced to them all, that self-same year. + +It was the custom of that country to keep the feast of St. Aaron with +great pomp at Caerleon, and many another town besides. The husband +rode with his friends to observe the festival, as was his wont. +Together with him went his wife and her son, richly apparelled. As the +roads were not known of the company, and they feared to lose their +way, they took with them a certain youth to lead them in the straight +path. The varlet brought them to a town; in all the world was none so +fair. Within this city was a mighty Abbey, filled with monks in +their holy habit. The varlet craved a lodging for the night, and the +pilgrims were welcomed gladly of the monks, who gave them meat and +drink near by the Abbot's table. On the morrow, after Mass, they would +have gone their way, but the Abbot prayed them to tarry for a little, +since he would show them his chapter house and dormitory, and all the +offices of the Abbey. As the Abbot had sheltered them so courteously, +the husband did according to his wish. + +Immediately that the dinner had come to an end, the pilgrims rose from +table, and visited the offices of the Abbey. Coming to the chapter +house they entered therein, and found a fair tomb, exceeding great, +covered with a silken cloth, banded with orfreys of gold. Twenty +torches of wax stood around this rich tomb, at the head, the foot, and +the sides. The candlesticks were of fine gold, and the censer swung in +that chantry was fashioned from an amethyst. When the pilgrims saw +the great reverence vouchsafed to this tomb, they inquired of the +guardians as to whom it should belong, and of the lord who lay +therein. The monks commenced to weep, and told with tears, that in +that place was laid the body of the best, the bravest, and the fairest +knight who ever was, or ever should be born. "In his life he was King +of this realm, and never was there so worshipful a lord. He was slain +at Caerwent for the love of a lady of those parts. Since then the +country is without a King. Many a day have we waited for the son of +these luckless lovers to come to our land, even as our lord commanded +us to do." + +When the lady heard these words she cried to her son with a loud voice +before them all. + +"Fair son," said she, "you have heard why God has brought us to this +place. It is your father who lies dead within this tomb. Foully was he +slain by this ancient Judas at your side." + +With these words she plucked out the sword, and tendered him the +glaive that she had guarded for so long a season. As swiftly as she +might she told the tale of how Eudemarec came to have speech with his +friend in the guise of a hawk; how the bird was betrayed to his death +by the jealousy of her lord; and of Yonec the falcon's son. At the end +she fell senseless across the tomb, neither did she speak any further +word until the soul had gone from her body. When the son saw that his +mother lay dead upon her lover's grave, he raised his father's sword +and smote the head of that ancient traitor from his shoulders. In +that hour he avenged his father's death, and with the same blow gave +quittance for the wrongs of his mother. As soon as these tidings were +published abroad, the folk of that city came together, and setting the +body of that fair lady within a coffin, sealed it fast, and with due +rite and worship placed it beside the body of her friend. May God +grant them pardon and peace. As to Yonec, their son, the people +acclaimed him for their lord, as he departed from the church. + +Those who knew the truth of this piteous adventure, after many days +shaped it to a Lay, that all men might learn the plaint and the dolour +that these two friends suffered by reason of their love. + + + + +XIV + + +THE LAY OF THE THORN + +Whosoever counts these Lays as fable, may be assured that I am not of +his mind. The dead and past stories that I have told again in divers +fashions, are not set down without authority. The chronicles of these +far off times are yet preserved in the land. They may be read by the +curious at Caerleon, or in the monastery of St. Aaron. They may be +heard in Brittany, and in many another realm besides. To prove how +the remembrance of such tales endures, I will now relate to you the +adventure of the Two Children, making clear what has remained hidden +to this very hour. + +In Brittany there lived a prince, high of spirit, fair of person, +courteous and kind to all. This Childe was a King's son, and there +were none to cherish him but his father and his father's wife, for +his mother was dead. The King held him dearer than aught else in the +world, and close he was to the lady's heart. The lady, for her part, +had a daughter by another husband than the King. Very dainty was the +maiden, sweet of colour and of face, passing young and fair. Both +these children, born to so high estate, were right tender of age, for +the varlet, who was the elder of the twain, was but seven years. The +two children loved together very sweetly. Nothing seemed of worth to +one, if it were not shared with the other. They were nourished at the +same table, went their ways together, and lived side by side. The +guardians who held them in ward, seeing their great love, made no +effort to put them apart, but allowed them to have all things in +common. The love of these children increased with their years, but +Dame Nature brought another love to youth and maid than she gave to +the child. They delighted no more in their old frolic and play. Such +sport gave place to clasp and kisses, to many words, and to long +silences. To savour their friendship they took refuge in an attic of +the keep, but all the years they had passed together, made the new +love flower more sweetly in their hearts, as each knew well. Very pure +and tender was their love, and good would it have been if they could +have hidden it from their fellows. This might not be, for in no great +while they were spied upon, and seen. + +It chanced upon a day that this prince, so young and debonair, came +home from the river with an aching head, by reason of the heat. He +entered in a chamber, and shutting out the noise and clamour, lay +upon his bed, to ease his pain. The Queen was with her daughter in a +chamber, instructing her meetly in that which it becomes a maid to +know. Closer to a damsel's heart is her lover than her kin. So soon as +she heard that her friend was come again to the house, she stole forth +from her mother, without saying word to any, and accompanied by none, +went straight to the chamber where he slept. The prince welcomed her +gladly, for they had not met together that day. The lady, who thought +no wrong, condoled with him in his sickness, and of her sweetness gave +him a hundred kisses to soothe his hurt. Too swiftly sped the time +in this fashion. Presently the Queen noticed that the damsel was no +longer with her at her task. She rose to her feet, and going quickly +to the chamber of the prince, entered therein without call or knock, +for the door was unfastened on the latch. When the Queen saw these two +lovers fondly laced in each other's arms, she knew and was certified +of their love. Right wrathful was the Queen. She caught the maiden +by the wrist, and shut her fast in her room. She prayed the King to +govern his son more strictly, and to hold him in such ward about the +Court that he might get no speech with the damsel. Since he could have +neither sight nor word of his friend, save only the sound of weeping +from her chamber, the prince determined to tarry no further in the +palace. He sought his father the self-same hour, and showed him what +was in his mind. + +"Sire," said he, "I crave a gift. If it pleases you to be a father to +your son, make me now a knight. I desire to seek another realm, and to +serve some prince for guerdon. The road calls me, for many a knight +has won much riches with his sword." + +The King did not refuse the lad's request, but accorded it should be +even as he wished. He prayed the prince to dwell for a year about the +Court, that he might the more readily assist at such tourneys and +follow such feats of arms as were proclaimed in the kingdom. This the +prince agreed to do--the more readily because there was nothing else +to be done. He remained therefore at the Court, moving ever by his +father's side. The maiden, for her part, was in the charge of her +mother, who reproached her always for that she had done amiss. The +Queen did not content herself with reproaches and threats. She used +the sharp discipline upon her, so that the maiden suffered grievously +in her person. Sick at heart was the varlet whilst he hearkened to the +beatings, the discipline and the chastisement wherewith her mother +corrected the damsel. He knew not what to do, for well he understood +that his was the fault, and that by reason of him was her neck bowed +down in her youth. More and more was he tormented because of his +friend. + +More and more the stripes with which she was afflicted became heavier +for him to bear. He shut himself close within his chamber, and making +fast the door, gave his heart over to tears. + +"Alas," cried he, "what shall I do! How may the ill be cured that I +have brought on us by my lightness and folly! I love her more than +life, and, certes, if I may not have my friend I will prove that I can +die for her, though I cannot live without her." + +Whilst the prince made this lamentation, the Queen came before the +King. + +"Sir," said she, "I pledge my oath and word as a crowned lady that I +keep my daughter as strictly as I may. Think to your own son, and see +to it that he cannot set eyes on the maid. He considers none other +thing but how to get clasp and speech of his friend." + +For this reason the King guarded his son about the Court as closely as +the Queen held the maiden in her chamber. So vigilant was the watch +that these pitiful lovers might never have word together. They had no +leisure to meet; they never looked one on the other; nor heard tidings +of how they did, whether by letter or by sergeant. + +They lived this death in life till the same year--eight days before +the Feast of St. John--the varlet was dubbed knight. The King spent +the day in the chase, and returning, brought with him great store of +fowl and venison that he had taken. After supper, when the tables were +removed, the King seated himself for his delight upon a carpet spread +before the dais, his son and many a courteous lord with him. The fair +company gave ear to the Lay of Alys, sweetly sung by a minstrel from +Ireland, to the music of his rote. When his story was ended, forthwith +he commenced another, and related the Lay of Orpheus; none being so +bold as to disturb the singer, or to let his mind wander from the +song. Afterwards the knights spoke together amongst themselves. They +told of adventures which in ancient days had chanced to many, and were +noised about Brittany. Amongst these lords sat a damsel, passing sweet +of tongue. In her turn she told of a certain adventure which awaited +the adventurous at the Ford of the Thorn, once every year, on the +vigil of St. John, "but much I doubt whether now there be knights +so bold as to dare the perils of that passage." When the newly made +knight heard these words his pride quickened within him. He considered +that although he was belted with the sword, he had as yet done no deed +to prove his courage in the eyes of men. He deemed the time had come +to show his hardihood, and to put to silence the malicious lips. He +stood upon his feet, calling upon damsel, King and barons to hearken +to his voice, and spake out manfully in the ears of great and small. + +"Lords," cried he, "whatever says the maiden, I boast before you all +that on St. John's Eve I will ride alone to the Ford of the Thorn, and +dare this adventure, whether it bring me gain or whether it bring me +loss." + +The King was right heavy to hear these words. He thought them to be +the gab and idle speech of a boy. + +"Fair son," said he, "put this folly from your mind." + +But when the King was persuaded that whether it were foolishness or +wisdom the lad was determined to go his way, and abide the issue of +the adventure, + +"Go swiftly," said he, "in the care of God. Since risk your life you +must, play it boldly like a pawn, and may God grant you heart's desire +and happy hours." + +The self-same night, whilst the lad lay sleeping in his bed, that +fair lady, his friend, was in much unrest in hers. The tidings of her +lover's boast had been carried quickly to her chamber, and sorely was +she adread for what might chance. When the Eve of St. John was come, +and the day drew towards evening, the varlet, with all fair hopes, +made him ready to ride to the Ford Adventurous. He had clad himself +from basnet to shoes in steel, and mounted on a strong destrier, went +his road to essay the Passage of the Thorn. Whilst he took his path +the maiden took hers. She went furtively to the orchard, that she +might importune God to bring her friend again, safe and sound to his +own house. She seated herself on the roots of a tree, and with sighs +and tears lamented her piteous case. + +"Father of Heaven," said the girl, "Who was and ever shall be, be +pitiful to my prayer. Since it is not to Thy will that any man should +be wretched, be merciful to a most unhappy maid. Fair Sire, give back +the days that are gone, when my friend was at my side, and grant that +once again I may be with him. Lord God of Hosts, when shall I be +healed? None knows the bitterness of my sorrow, for none may taste +thereof, save such as set their heart on what they may not have. These +only, Lord, know the wormwood and the gall." + +Thus prayed the maiden, seated on the roots of that ancient tree, her +feet upon the tender grass. At the time of her orisons much was she +sought and inquired after in the palace, but none might find where she +had hidden. The damsel herself was given over altogether to her love +and her sorrow, and had no thought for anything, save for prayers and +tears. The night wore through, and dawn already laced the sky, when +she fell on a little slumber, in the tree where she was sheltered. She +woke with a start, but returned to her sleep more deeply than before. +She had not slept long, when herseemed she was ravished from the +tree--but I cannot make this plain for I know no wizardry--to that +Ford of the Thorn, where her friend and lover had repaired. The knight +looked upon the sleeping maiden, and marvelled at so fair a sight. All +adread was the lady when she came from her slumber, for she knew not +where she lay, and wondered greatly. She covered her head by reason of +her exceeding fear, but the knight consoled her courteously. + +"Diva," said he, "there is no reason for terror. If you are an earthly +woman, speaking with a mortal tongue, tell me your story. Tell me in +what guise and manner you came so suddenly to this secret place." + +The maiden began to be of more courage, till she remembered that she +was no longer in the orchard of the castle. She inquired of the knight +to what haunt she had come. + +"Lady," he made answer, "you are laid at the Ford of the Thorn, where +adventures chance to the seeker, sometimes greatly against the mind, +and sometimes altogether according to the heart." + +"Ah, dear God," cried the lady, "now shall I be made whole. Sir, look +a little closer upon me, for I have been your friend. Thanks be to +God, who so soon has heard my prayer." + +This was the beginning of adventures which happened that night to the +seeker. The maiden hastened to embrace her lover. He got him nimbly +from his horse, and taking her softly between his arms, kissed her +with more kisses than I can tell. Then they sat together beneath the +thorn, and the damsel told how she fell asleep within that old tree in +the pleasaunce, of how she was rapt from thence in her slumber, and of +how, yet sleeping, he came upon her by the Ford. When the knight had +hearkened to all that she had to say, he looked from her face, and +glancing across the river, marked a lord, with lifted lance, riding +to the ford. This knight wore harness of a fair vermeil colour, and +bestrode a horse white of body, save for his two ears, which were red +as the rider's mail. Slender of girdle was this knight, and he made no +effort to enter the river, but drew rein upon the other side of the +passage, and watched. The varlet said to his friend that it became +his honour to essay some feats of arms with this adversary. He got to +horse, and rode to the river, leaving the maiden beneath the thorn. +Had she but found another horse at need, very surely would she have +ridden to his aid. The two knights drew together as swiftly as their +steeds could bear them. They thrust so shrewdly with the lance, that +their shields were split and broken. The spears splintered in the +gauntlet, and both champions were unhorsed by the shock, rolling on +the sand; but nothing worse happened to them. Since they had neither +squire nor companion to help them on their feet, they pained them +grievously to get them from the ground. When they might climb upon +their steeds, they hung again the buckler about the neck, and lowered +their ashen spears. Passing heavy was the varlet, for shame that his +friend had seen him thrown. The two champions met together in the +onset, but the prince struck his adversary so cunningly with the +lance, that the laces of his buckler were broken, and the shield fell +from his body. When the varlet saw this he rejoiced greatly, for he +knew that the eyes of his friend were upon him. He pressed his quarrel +right fiercely, and tumbling his foe from the saddle, seized his horse +by the bridle.[2] + +The two knights passed the ford, and the prince feared sorely because +of the skill and mightiness of his adversary. He could not doubt that +if they fell upon him together he would perish at their hands. He put +the thought from mind, for he would not suspect them of conduct so +unbecoming to gentle knight, and so contrary to the laws of chivalry. +If they desired some passage of arms, doubtless they would joust as +gentlemen, and each for himself alone. When these three knights were +mounted on their steeds, they crossed the ford with courtesy and +order, each seeking to give precedence to his companion. Having come +to the bank the stranger knights prayed the prince to run a course for +their pleasure. He answered that it was his wish, too, and made him +ready for the battle. The prince rejoiced greatly when he saw one of +these two adversaries ride a little apart, that he might the more +easily observe the combat. He was assured that he would suffer no +felony at their hands. For their part the two knights were persuaded +that they had to do with an errant who had ridden to the ford for no +other gain than honour and praise. The two adversaries took their +places within the lists. They lowered their lance, and covering their +bodies with the shield, smote fiercely together. So rude was the shock +that the staves of the spears were broken, and the strong destriers +were thrown upon their haunches. Neither of the good knights had lost +his saddle. Each of the combatants got him to his feet, and drawing +the sword, pressed upon his fellow, till the blood began to flow. When +the knight who judged this quarrel saw their prowess, he came near, +and commanded that the battle should cease. The adversaries drew +apart, and struck no further blow with the sword. Right courteously +and with fair words he spake to the prince. "Friend," said the knight, +"get to your horse, and break a lance with me. Then we can go in +peace, for our time grows short. You must endure till the light be +come if you hope to gain the prize. Do your devoir, valiantly, +for should you chance to be thrown in this course, or slain by +misadventure, you have lost your desire. None will ever hear of this +adventure; all your life you will remain little and obscure. Your +maiden will be led away by the victor, seated on the good Castilian +horse you have gained by right of courage. Fight bravely. The +trappings of the destrier are worth the spoil of a king's castle, and +as for the horse himself he is the swiftest and the fairest in the +world. Be not amazed that I tell you of these matters. I have watched +you joust, and know you for a hardy knight and a gallant gentleman. +Besides I stand to lose horse and harness equally with you." + +[Footnote 2: There is here some omission in the manuscript.] + +The prince listened to these words, and accorded that the knight spoke +wisely and well. He would willingly have taken counsel of the maiden, +but first, as surely he knew, he must joust with this knight. He +gathered the reins in his glove, and choosing a lance with an ashen +staff, opposed himself to his adversary. The combatants met together +so fiercely that the lance pierced the steel of the buckler; yet +neither lost stirrup by the shock. When the prince saw this he smote +the knight so shrewdly that he would have fallen from the saddle, had +he not clung to the neck of his destrier. Of his courtesy the prince +passed on, and refrained his hand until his enemy had recovered his +seat. On his return he found the knight full ready to continue his +devoir. Each of the champions plucked forth his sword, and sheltered +him beneath his shield. They struck such mighty blows that the +bucklers were hewn in pieces, but in spite of all they remained firm +in the saddle. The maiden was aghast whilst she watched the melée. She +had great fear for her friend, lest mischief should befall him, and +she cried loudly to the knight that, for grace, he should give over +this combat, and go his way. Very courteous was the knight, and meetly +schooled in what was due to maidens. He saluted the damsel, and, +together with his companion, rode straightway from the ford. The +prince watched them pass for a little, then without further tarrying +he went swiftly to the maiden, where, all fearful and trembling, she +knelt beneath the thorn. The lady stood upon her feet as her lover +drew near. She climbed behind him on the saddle, for well she knew +that their pains were done. They fared so fast that when it was yet +scarce day they came again to the palace. The King saw them approach, +and rejoiced greatly at his son's prowess; but at this he marvelled +much, that he should return with the daughter of the Queen. + +The self-same day of this home-coming--as I have heard tell--the King +had summoned to Court his barons and vassals because of a certain +quarrel betwixt two of his lords. This quarrel being accorded between +them, and come to a fair end, the King related to that blithe company +the story of this adventure. He told again that which you know, of how +the prince defended the Ford, of the finding of the maiden beneath the +thorn, of the mighty joust, and of that white horse which was taken +from the adversary. + +The prince both then and thereafter caused the horse to be entreated +with the greatest care. He received the maiden to wife, and cherished +her right tenderly. She, and the steed on which she would always ride, +were his richest possessions. The destrier lived many years in much +honour, but on a day when his master was taking the harness from his +head, he fell and died forthwith. + +Of the story which has been set before you the Bretons wrought a Lay. +They did not call the song the Lay of the Ford, although the adventure +took place at a river; neither have they named it The Lay of the Two +Children. For good or ill the rhyme is known as the Lay of the Thorn. +It begins well and endeth better, for these kisses find their fruition +in marriage. + + + + +XV + + +THE LAY OF GRAELENT + +Now will I tell you the adventure of Graelent, even as it was told to +me, for the Lay is sweet to hear, and the tune thereof lovely to bear +in mind. + +Graelent was born in Brittany of a gentle and noble house, very comely +of person and very frank of heart. The King who held Brittany in that +day, made mortal war upon his neighbours, and commanded his vassals to +take arms in his quarrel. Amongst these came Graelent, whom the King +welcomed gladly, and since he was a wise and hardy knight greatly was +he honoured and cherished by the Court. So Graelent strove valiantly +at tourney and at joust, and pained himself mightily to do the enemy +all the mischief that he was able. The Queen heard tell the prowess of +her knight, and loved him in her heart for reason of his feats of arms +and of the good men spoke of him. So she called her chamberlain apart, +and said, "Tell me truly, hast thou not often heard speak of that fair +knight, Sir Graelent, whose praise is in all men's mouths?" + +"Lady," answered the chamberlain, "I know him for a courteous +gentleman, well spoken of by all." + +"I would he were my friend," replied the lady, "for I am in much +unrest because of him. Go thou, and bid him come to me, so he would be +worthy of my love." "Passing gracious and rich is your gift, lady, and +doubtless he will receive it with marvellous joy. Why, from here to +Troy there is no priest even, however holy, who in looking on your +face would not lose Heaven in your eyes." + +Thereupon the chamberlain took leave of the Queen, and seeking +Graelent within his lodging saluted him courteously, and gave him the +message, praying him to come without delay to the palace. + +"Go before, fair friend," answered the knight, "for I will follow you +at once." + +So when the chamberlain was gone Graelent caused his grey horse to be +saddled, and mounting thereon, rode to the castle, attended by his +squire. He descended without the hall, and passing before the King +entered within the Queen's chamber. When the lady saw him she embraced +him closely, and cherished and honoured him sweetly. Then she made the +knight to be seated on a fair carpet, and to his face praised him +for his exceeding comeliness. But he answered her very simply and +courteously, saying nothing but what was seemly to be said. Then the +Queen kept silence for a great while, considering whether she should +require him to love her for the love of love; but at the last, made +bold by passion, she asked if his heart was set on any maid or dame. + +"Lady," said he, "I love no woman, for love is a serious business, +not a jest. Out of five hundred who speak glibly of love, not one +can spell the first letter of his name. With such it is idleness, +or fulness of bread, or fancy, masking in the guise of love. Love +requires of his servants chastity in thought, in word and in deed. If +one of two lovers is loyal, and the other jealous and false, how may +their friendship last, for Love is slain! But sweetly and discreetly +love passes from person to person, from heart to heart, or it is +nothing worth. For what the lover would, that would the beloved; what +she would ask of him that should he go before to grant. Without accord +such as this, love is but a bond and a constraint. For above all +things Love means sweetness, and truth, and measure; yea, loyalty to +the loved one and to your word. And because of this I dare not meddle +with so high a matter." + +The Queen heard Graelent gladly, finding him so tripping of tongue, +and since his words were wise and courteous, at the end she discovered +to him her heart. + +"Friend, Sir Graelent, though I am a wife, yet have I never loved my +lord. But I love you very dearly, and what I have asked of you will +you not go before to grant?" + +"Lady," said he, "give me pity and forgiveness, but this may not be. +I am the vassal of the King, and on my knees have pledged him loyalty +and faith, and sworn to defend his life and honour. Never shall he +have shame because of me." + +With these words Sir Graelent took his leave of the Queen, and went +his way. + +Seeing him go in this fashion the Queen commenced to sigh. She was +grieved in her heart, and knew not what to do. But whatever chanced +she would not renounce her passion, so often she required his love by +means of soft messages and costly gifts, but he refused them all. Then +the Queen turned from love to hate, and the greatness of her passion +became the measure of her wrath, for very evilly she spoke of Graelent +to the King. So long as the war endured Graelent remained in that +realm. He spent all that he had upon his company, for the King grudged +wages to his men. The Queen persuaded the King to this, counselling +him that by withholding the pay of the sergeants, Graelent might in no +wise flee the country, nor take service with another lord. So at the +end Graelent was wonderfully downcast, nor was it strange that he was +sad, for there remained nothing which he might pledge, but one poor +steed, and when this was gone, no horse had he to carry him from the +country. + +It was now the month of May, when the hours are long and warm. The +burgess, with whom Graelent lodged, had risen early in the morning, +and with his wife had gone to eat with neighbours in the town. No one +was in the house except Graelent, no squire, nor archer, nor servant, +save only the daughter of his host, a very courteous maid. When the +hour for dinner was come she prayed the knight that they might sit at +board together. But he had no heart for mirth, and seeking out his +squire bade him bridle and saddle his horse, for he had no care to +eat. + +"I have no saddle," replied the squire. + +"Friend," said the demoiselle, "I will lend you bridle and saddle as +well." + +So when the harness was done upon him, Graelent mounted his horse, and +went his way through the town, clad in a cloak of sorry fur, which +he had worn overlong already. The townsfolk in the street turned and +stared upon him, making a jest of his poverty, but of their jibes +he took no heed, for such act but after their kind, and seldom show +kindliness or courtesy. + +Now without the town there spread a great forest, thick with trees, +and through the forest ran a river. Towards this forest Graelent rode, +deep in heavy thought, and very dolent. Having ridden for a little +space beneath the trees, he spied within a leafy thicket a fair white +hart, whiter even than snow on winter branches. The hart fled before +him, and Graelent followed so closely in her track that man and deer +presently came together to a grassy lawn, in the midst of which sprang +a fountain of clear, sweet water. Now in this fountain a demoiselle +disported herself for her delight. Her raiment was set on a bush near +by, and her two maidens stood on the bank busied in their lady's +service. Graelent forgot the chase at so sweet a sight, since never +in his life had he seen so lovely a dame. For the lady was slender in +shape and white, very gracious and dainty of colour, with laughing +eyes and an open brow, certainly the most beautiful thing in all the +world. Graelent dared not draw nigh the fountain for fear of troubling +the dame, so he came softly to the bush to set hands upon her raiment. +The two maidens marked his approach, and at their fright the lady +turned, and calling him by name, cried with great anger, + +"Graelent, put my raiment down, for it will profit you little even if +you carry it away, and leave me naked in this wood. But if you are +indeed too greedy of gain to remember your knighthood, at least return +me my shift, and content yourself with my mantle, since it will bring +you money, as it is very good." + +"I am not a merchant's son," answered Graelent merrily, "nor am I a +huckster to sell mantles in a booth. If your cloak were worth the +spoil of three castles I would not now carry it from the bush. Come +forth from your bathing, fair friend, and clothe yourself in your +vesture, for you have to say a certain word to me." + +"I will not trust myself to your hand, for you might seize upon me," +answered the lady, "and I tell you frankly that I put no faith in your +word, nor have had any dealings with your school." + +Then Graelent answered still more merrily, "Lady, needs must I suffer +your wrath. But at least I will guard your raiment till you come forth +from the well and, fairest, very dainty is your body in my eyes." + +When the lady knew that Graelent would not depart, nor render again +her raiment, then she demanded surety that he would do her no hurt. +This thing was accorded between them, so she came forth from the +fountain, and did her vesture upon her. Then Graelent took her gently +by the left hand, and prayed and required of her that she would grant +him love for love. But the lady answered, "I marvel greatly that you +should dare to speak to me in this fashion, for I have little reason +to think you discreet. You are bold, sir knight, and overbold, to seek +to ally yourself with a woman of my lineage." + +Sir Graelent was not abashed by the dame's proud spirit, but wooed and +prayed her gently and sweetly, promising that if she granted him her +love he would serve her in all loyalty, and never depart therefrom +all the days of his life. The demoiselle hearkened to the words of +Graelent, and saw plainly that he was a valiant knight, courteous and +wise. She thought within herself that should she send him from her, +never might she find again so sure a friend. Since, then, she knew him +worthy of her love, she kissed him softly, and spoke to him in this +manner, "Graelent, I will love you none the less truly, though we have +not met until this day. But one thing is needful that our love may +endure. Never must you speak a word by which this hidden thing may +become known. I will furnish you with deniers in your purse, with +cloth of silk, with silver and with gold. Night and day will I stay +with you, and great shall be the love between us twain. You shall +see me riding at your side; you may talk and laugh with me at your +pleasure, but I must never be seen of your comrades, nor must they +know aught concerning your bride. Graelent, you are loyal, brave, and +courteous, and comely enough to the view. For you I spread my snare +at the fountain; for you shall I suffer heavy pains, as well I knew +before I set forth on this adventure. Now must I trust to your +discretion, for if you speak vainly and boastfully of this thing then +am I undone. Remain now for a year in this country, which shall be for +you a home that your lady loves well. But noon is past, and it is time +for you to go. Farewell, and a messenger shortly shall tell you that +which I would have you do." + +Graelent took leave of the lady, and she sweetly clasped and kissed +him farewell. He returned to his lodging, dismounted from his steed, +and entering within a chamber, leaned from the casement, considering +this strange adventure. Looking towards the forest he saw a varlet +issue therefrom riding upon a palfrey. He drew rein before Graelent's +door, and taking his feet from the stirrup, saluted the knight. So +Graelent inquired from whence he rode, and of his name and business. + +"Sir," answered he, "I am the messenger of your lady. She sends you +this destrier by my hand, and would have me enter in your service, to +pay your servitors their wages and to take charge of your lodging." + +When Graelent heard this message he thought it both good and fair. He +kissed the varlet upon the cheek, and accepting his gift, caused the +destrier--which was the noblest, the swiftest and the most speedy +under the sun--to be led to the stable. Then the varlet carried his +baggage to his master's chamber, and took therefrom a large cushion +and a rich coverlet which he spread upon the couch. After this he drew +thereout a purse containing much gold and silver, and stout cloth +fitting for the knight's apparel. Then he sent for the host, and +paying him what was owing, called upon him to witness that he was +recompensed most largely for the lodging. He bade him also to seek out +such knights as should pass through the town to refresh and solace +themselves in the company of his lord. The host was a worthy man. He +made ready a plenteous dinner, and inquired through the town for such +poor knights as were in misease by reason of prison or of war. These +he brought to the hostelry of Sir Graelent, and comforted them with +instruments of music, and with all manner of mirth. Amongst them sat +Graelent at meat, gay and debonair, and richly apparelled. Moreover, +to these poor knights and the harpers Graelent gave goodly gifts, so +that there was not a citizen in all the town who did not hold him in +great worship, and regard him as his lord. + +From this moment Graelent lived greatly at his ease, for not a cloud +was in his sky. His lady came at will and pleasure; all day long they +laughed and played together, and at night she lay softly at his side. +What truer happiness might he know than this? Often, besides, he rode +to such tournaments of the land as he was able, and all men esteemed +him for a stout and worthy knight. Very pleasant were his days, and +his love, and if such things might last for ever he had nothing else +to ask of life. + +When a full year had passed by, the season drew to the Feast of +Pentecost. Now it was the custom of the King to summon at that tide +his barons and all who held their fiefs of him to his Court for a rich +banquet. Amongst these lords was bidden Sir Graelent. After men had +eaten and drunk the whole day, and all were merry, the King commanded +the Queen to put off her royal robes, and to stand forth upon the +dais. Then he boasted before the company, + +"Lord barons, how seems it to you? Beneath the sky is there a lovelier +Queen than mine, be she maid, lady or demoiselle?" + +So all the lords made haste to praise the Queen, and to cry and affirm +that in all the world was neither maid nor wife so dainty, fresh and +fair. Not a single voice but bragged of her beauty, save only that +of Graelent. He smiled at their folly, for his heart remembered his +friend, and he held in pity all those who so greatly rejoiced in the +Queen. So he sat with covered head, and with face bent smiling to the +board. The Queen marked his discourtesy, and drew thereto the notice +of the King. + +"Sire, do you observe this dishonour! Not one of these mighty lords +but has praised the beauty of your wife, save Graelent only, who makes +a mock of her. Always has he held me in envy and despite." + +The King commanded Graelent to his throne, and in the hearing of all +bade the knight to tell, on his faith as vassal to his liege, for what +reason he had hid his face and laughed. + +"Sire," answered Graelent to the King, "Sire, hearken to my words. In +all the world no man of your lineage does so shameful a deed as this. +You make your wife a show upon a stage. You force your lords to praise +her just with lies, saying that the sun does not shine upon her peer. +One man will tell the truth to your face, and say that very easily can +be found a fairer dame than she." + +Right heavy was the King when he heard these words. He conjured +Graelent to tell him straightly if he knew a daintier dame. + +"Yes, Sire, and thirty times more gracious than the Queen." + +The Queen was marvellously wrathful to hear this thing, and prayed her +husband of his grace to compel the knight to bring that woman to the +Court of whose beauty he made so proud a boast. + +"Set us side by side, and let the choice be made between us. Should +she prove the fairer let him go in peace; but if not, let justice be +done on him for his calumny and malice." + +So the King bade his guards to lay hands on Graelent, swearing that +between them never should be love nor peace, nor should the knight +issue forth from prison, until he had brought before him her whose +beauty he had praised so much. + +Graelent was held a captive. He repented him of his hasty words, and +begged the King to grant him respite. He feared to have lost his +friend, and sweated grievously with rage and mortification. But though +many of the King's house pitied him in his evil case, the long days +brought him no relief, until a full year went by, and once again the +King made a great banquet to his barons and his lieges. Then was +Graelent brought to hall, and put to liberty on such terms that he +would return bringing with him her whose loveliness he had praised +before the King. Should she prove so desirable and dear, as his boast, +then all would be well, for he had naught to fear. But if he returned +without his lady, then he must go to judgment, and his only hope would +be in the mercy of the King. + +Graelent mounted his good horse, and parted from the Court sad and +wrathful. He sought his lodging, and inquired for his servant, but +might not find him. He called upon his friend, but the lady did not +heed his voice. Then Graelent gave way to despair, and preferred death +to life. He shut himself within his chamber, crying upon his dear one +for grace and mercy, but from her he got neither speech nor comfort. +So seeing that his love had withdrawn herself from him by reason of +his grievous fault, he took no rest by night or day, and held his life +in utter despite. For a full year he lived in this piteous case, so +that it was marvellous to those about him that he might endure his +life. + +On the day appointed the sureties brought Graelent where the King was +set in hall with his lords. Then the King inquired of Graelent where +was now his friend. + +"Sire," answered the knight, "she is not here, for in no wise might I +find her. Now do with me according to your will." + +"Sir Graelent," said the King, "very foully have you spoken. You have +slandered the Queen, and given all my lords the lie. When you go from +my hands never will you do more mischief with your tongue." + +Then the King spoke with a high voice to his barons. + +"Lords, I pray and command you to give judgment in this matter. You +heard the blame that Graelent set upon me before all my Court. You +know the deep dishonour that he fastened on the Queen. How may such a +disloyal vassal deal honestly with his lord, for as the proverb tells, +'Hope not for friendship from the man who beats your dog!'" + +The lords of the King's household went out from before him, and +gathered themselves together to consider their judgment. They kept +silence for a great space, for it was grievous to them to deal harshly +with so valiant a knight. Whilst they thus refrained from words a +certain page hastened unto them, and prayed them not to press the +matter, for (said he) "even now two young maidens, the freshest maids +in all the realm, seek the Court. Perchance they bring succour to +the good knight, and, so it be the will of God, may deliver him from +peril." So the lords waited right gladly, and presently they saw two +damsels come riding to the palace. Very young were these maidens, very +slender and gracious, and daintily cloaked in two fair mantles. So +when the pages had hastened to hold their stirrup and bridle, the +maidens dismounted from their palfreys and entering within the hall +came straight before the King. + +"Sire," said one of the two damsels, "hearken now to me. My lady +commands us to pray you to put back this cause for a while, nor to +deliver judgment therein, since she comes to plead with you for the +deliverance of this knight." + +When the Queen heard this message she was filled with shame, and made +speed to get her from the hall Hardly had she gone than there entered +two other damsels, whiter and more sweetly flushed even than their +fellows. These bade the King to wait for a little, since their +mistress was now at hand. So all men stared upon them, and praised +their great beauty, saying that if the maid was so fair, what then +must be the loveliness of the dame. When, therefore, the demoiselle +came in her turn, the King's household stood upon their feet to give +her greeting. Never did woman show so queenly to men's sight as did +this lady riding to the hall. Passing sweet she was to see, passing +simple and gracious of manner, with softer eyes and a daintier face +than girl of mother born. The whole Court marvelled at her beauty, for +no spot or blemish might be found in her body. She was richly dressed +in a kirtle of vermeil silk, broidered with gold, and her mantle was +worth the spoil of a king's castle. Her palfrey was of good race, +and speedy; the harness and trappings upon him were worth a thousand +livres in minted coin. All men pressed about her, praising her face +and person, her simplicity and queenlihead. She came at slow pace +before the King, and dismounting from the palfrey, spoke very +courteously in this fashion. + +"Sire," said she, "hearken to me, and you, lord barons, give heed to +my pleading. You know the words Graelent spake to the King, in the +ears of men, when the Queen made herself a show before the lords, +saying that often had he seen a fairer lady. Very hasty and foolish +was his tongue, since he provoked the King to anger. But at least he +told the truth when he said that there is no dame so comely but that +very easily may be found one more sweet than she. Look now boldly upon +my face, and judge you rightly in this quarrel between the Queen and +me. So shall Sir Graelent be acquitted of this blame." + +Then gazing upon her, all the King's household, lord and lackey, +prince and page, cried with one voice that her favour was greater than +that of the Queen. The King himself gave judgment with his barons that +this thing was so; therefore Sir Graelent was acquitted of his blame, +and declared a free man. + +When judgment was given the lady took her leave of the King, and +attended by her four damsels departed straightway from the hall upon +her palfrey. Sir Graelent caused his white horse to be saddled, and +mounting, followed hotly after her through the town. Day after day +he rode in her track, pleading for pity and pardon, but she gave him +neither good words nor bad in answer. So far they fared that at last +they came to the forest, and taking their way through a deep wood rode +to the bank of a fair, clear stream. The lady set her palfrey to the +river, but when she saw that Graelent also would enter therein she +cried to him, + +"Stay, Graelent, the stream is deep, and it is death for you to +follow." + +Graelent took no heed to her words, but forced his horse to enter the +river, so that speedily the waters closed above his head. Then the +lady seized his bridle, and with extreme toil brought horse and rider +back again to land. + +"Graelent," said she, "you may not pass this river, however mightily +you pain yourself, therefore must you remain alone on this bank." + +Again the lady set her palfrey to the river, but Graelent could not +suffer to see her go upon her way alone. Again he forced his horse to +enter the water; but the current was very swift and the stream was +very deep, so that presently Graelent was torn from his saddle, and +being borne away by the stream came very nigh to drown. When the four +maidens saw his piteous plight they cried aloud to their lady, and +said, + +"Lady, for the love of God, take pity on your poor friend. See, how he +drowns in this evil case. Alas, cursed be the day you spake soft words +in his ear, and gave him the grace of your love. Lady, look how the +current hurries him to his death. How may your heart suffer him to +drown whom you have held so close! Aid him, nor have the sin on your +soul that you endured to let the man who loved you die without your +help." + +When the lady heard the complaint of her maidens, no longer could +she hide the pity she felt in her heart. In all haste she turned her +palfrey to the river, and entering the stream clutched her lover by +the belt. Thus they won together to the bank. There she stripped the +drowned man of his raiment, and wrapping him fast in her own dry +mantle cherished him so meetly that presently he came again to life. +So she brought him safely into her own land, and none has met Sir +Graelent since that day. + +But the Breton folk still hold firmly that Graelent yet liveth with +his friend. His destrier, when he escaped him from the perilous river, +grieved greatly for his master's loss. He sought again the mighty +forest, yet never was at rest by night or day. No peace might he find, +but ever pawed he with his hoofs upon the ground, and neighed so +loudly that the noise went through all the country round about. Many a +man coveted so noble a steed, and sought to put bit and bridle in his +mouth, yet never might one set hands upon him, for he would not suffer +another master. So each year in its season the forest was filled with +the cry and the trouble of this noble horse which might not find its +lord. + +This adventure of the good steed and of the stout knight, who went +to the land of faery with his love, was noised abroad throughout all +Brittany, and the Bretons made a Lay thereof which was sung in +the ears of many people, and was called a Lay of the Death of Sir +Graelent. + + + + +XVI + + +A STORY OF BEYOND THE SEA + +In times gone by there lived a Count of Ponthieu, who loved chivalry +and the pleasures of the world beyond measure, and moreover was a +stout knight and a gallant gentleman. In the self-same day there lived +a Count of St. Pol, who was lord of much land, and a right worthy man. +One grief he had, that there was no heir of his body; but a sister was +his, a prudent woman and a passing good gentlewoman, who was dame of +Dommare in Ponthieu. This lady had a son, Thibault by name, who was +heir to this County of St. Pol, but he was a poor man so long as his +uncle lived. He was a prudent knight, valiant and skilled with the +spear, noble and fair. Greatly was he loved and honoured of all honest +people, for he was of high race and gentle birth. + +The Count of Ponthieu, of whom the tale hath spoken, had to wife a +very worthy lady. He and his dame had but one child, a daughter, +very good and gracious, who increased with her days in favour and in +virtues; and the maid was of some sixteen years. The third year after +her birth her mother died, whereof she was sorely troubled and right +heavy. The Count, her father, took to himself another wife with no +long tarrying, a dame of gentle race and breeding. Of this lady he got +him quickly a son; very near was the boy to his father's heart. The +lad grew with his years in stature and in valour, and gave promise to +increase in all good qualities. + +The Count of Ponthieu marked my lord Thibault of Dommare. He summoned +the knight to his castle, and made him of his house for guerdon. When +Sir Thibault was of his fellowship he rejoiced greatly, for the Count +prospered in goods and in praise by reason of his servant's deeds. As +they came from a tournament on a day, the Count and my lord Thibault +together, the Count required of his companion and said, + +"Thibault, by the aid of God tell me truly which jewel of my crown +shines the fairest in your eyes!" + +"Sir," replied Messire Thibault, "I am only a beggar, but so help me +God, of all the jewels in your crown I love and covet none, save only +my demoiselle, your daughter." + +When he heard this thing the Count had great content. He laughed in +his heart and said, + +"Thibault, I will grant her to the beggar, if it be to her mind." + +"Sir," answered he, "thanks and gramercy. May God make it up to you." + +Then went the Count to his daughter, and said, + +"Fair daughter, I have promised you in marriage, so it go not against +your heart." + +"Sir," inquired the maid, "to whom?" + +"In the name of God, to a loyal man, and a true man, of whom much is +hoped; to a knight of my own household, Thibault of Dommare." + +"Dear sir," answered the maiden sweetly, "if your county were a +kingdom, and I were the king's only child, I would choose him as my +husband, and gladly give him all that I had." + +"Daughter," said the Count, "blessed be your pretty person, and the +hour that you were born." + +Thus was this marriage made. The Count of Ponthieu and the Count of +St. Pol were at the feast, and many another honourable man besides. +Great was the joy in which they met, fair was the worship, and +marvellous the delight. The bride and groom lived together in all +happiness for five years. This was their only sorrow, that it pleased +not our Lord Jesus Christ that they should have an heir to their +flesh. + +On a night Sir Thibault lay in his bed. He considered within himself +and said, + +"Lord, whence cometh it that I love this dame so fondly, and she me, +yet we may have no heir of our bodies to serve God and to do a little +good in the world?" + +Then he remembered my lord St. James, the Apostle of Spain, who gives +to the fervent supplicant that which rightly he desires. Earnestly, to +his own heart, he promised that he would walk a pilgrim in his way. +His wife lay sleeping at his side, but when she came from out her +sleep, he took her softly in his arms, and required of her that she +would bestow on him a gift. + +"Sir," said the lady, "what gift would you have?" + +"Wife," he made answer, "that you shall know when it is mine." + +"Husband," said she, "if it be mine to grant, I will give it you, +whatever the price." + +"Wife," he said, "I pray you to grant me leave to seek my lord St. +James the Apostle, that he may intercede with our Lord Jesus Christ to +bestow on us an heir of our flesh, whereby God may be served in this +world and Holy Church glorified." + +"Sir," cried the lady, "sweet and dear it is that you should crave +such bounty, and I grant the permission you desire right willingly." + +Deep and long was the tenderness that fell betwixt these twain. Thus +passed a day, and another day, and yet a third. On this third day it +chanced that they lay together in their bed, and it was night. Then +said the dame, + +"Husband, I pray and require of you a gift." + +"Wife," he replied, "ask, and I will give it you, if by any means I +can." + +"Husband," she said, "I require leave to come with you on this errand +and journey." + +When Messire Thibault heard this thing he was right sorrowful, and +said, + +"Wife, grievous would be the journey to your body, for the way is very +long, and the land right strange and perilous." + +Said she, + +"Husband, be not in doubt because of me. You shall be more hindered of +your squire than of your wife." + +"Dame," said he, "as God wills and as you wish." + +The days went, and these tidings were so noised abroad that the Count +of Ponthieu heard thereof. He commanded my lord Sir Thibault to his +house, and said, + +"Thibault, you are a vowed pilgrim, as I hear, and my daughter too!" + +"Sir," answered he, "that is verily and truly so." + +"Thibault," replied the Count, "as to yourself what pleases you is to +my mind also, but concerning my daughter that is another matter." + +"Sir," made answer Sir Thibault, "go she must, and I cannot deny her." + +"Since this is so," said the Count, "part when you will. Make ready +for the road your steeds, your palfreys, and the pack horses, and I +will give you riches and gear enough for the journey." + +"Sir," said Messire Thibault, "thanks and gramercy." + +Thus these pilgrims arrayed them, and sought that shrine with +marvellous joy. They fared so speedily upon the way, that at length +they came near to my lord St. James, by less than two days faring. +That night they drew to a goodly town. After they had eaten in the +hostel, Sir Thibault called for the host and inquired of him the road +for the morrow, how it ran, and whether it were smooth. + +"Fair sir," replied the innkeeper to the knight, "at the gate of this +town you will find a little wood. Beyond the wood a strong smooth road +runs for the whole day's journey." + +Hearing this they asked no more questions, but the beds being laid +down, they went to their rest. The morrow broke full sweetly. The +pilgrims rose lightly from their beds as soon as it was day, and made +much stir and merriment. Sir Thibault rose also, since he might not +sleep, but his head was heavy. He therefore called his chamberlain, +and said, + +"Rise quickly, and bid the company to pack the horses and go their +way. Thou shalt remain with me, and make ready our harness, for I am a +little heavy and disquieted." + +The chamberlain made known to the sergeants the pleasure of their +lord, so that presently they took the road. In no great while Messire +Thibault and his dame got them from the bed, and arraying their +persons, followed after their household. The chamberlain folded the +bed linen, and it was yet but dawn, though warm and fair. The three +went forth through the gate of the city, those three together, with no +other companion save God alone, and drew near to the forest. When they +came close they found two roads, the one good, the other ill; so that +Sir Thibault said to his chamberlain, + +"Put spurs to your horse, and ride swiftly after our people. Bid them +await our coming, for foul it is for lady and knight to pass through +this wood with so little company." + +The servitor went speedily, and Messire Thibault entered the forest. +He drew rein beside the two roads, for he knew not which to follow. + +"Wife," he said, "which way is ours?" + +"Please God, the good," she answered. + +Now in this wood were robbers, who spoiled the fair way, and made wide +and smooth the false, so that pilgrims should mistake and wander from +the path. Messire Thibault lighted from his horse. He looked from one +to the other, and finding the wrong way broader and more smooth than +the true, he cried, + +"Wife, come now; in the name of God, this." + +They had proceeded along this road for some quarter of a mile when the +path grew strict and narrow, and boughs made dark the way. + +"Wife," said the knight, "I fear that we fare but ill." + +When he had thus spoken he looked before him, and marked four armed +thieves, seated on four strong horses, and each bore lance in hand. +Thereupon he glanced behind him, and, lo, four other robbers, armed +and set in ambush, so he said, + +"Dame, be not affrighted of aught that you may see from now." + +Right courteously Sir Thibault saluted the robbers in his path, but +they gave no answer to his greeting. Afterwards he sought of them +what was in their mind, and one replied that he should know anon. +The thief, who had thus spoken, drew towards my lord Thibault, with +outstretched sword, thinking to smite him in the middle. Messire +Thibault saw the blow about to fall, and it was no marvel if he feared +greatly. He sprang forward nimbly, as best he might, so that the +glaive smote the air. Then as the robber staggered by, Sir Thibault +seized him fiercely, and wrested the sword from his hand. The knight +advanced stoutly against those three from whom the thief had come. He +struck the foremost amidst the bowels, so that he perished miserably. +Then he turned and went again to that one who had first come against +him with the sword, and slew him also. Now it was decreed of God that +after the knight had slain three of this company of robbers, that +the five who were left, encompassed him round about, and killed his +palfrey. Sir Thibault tumbled flat upon his back, although he was not +wounded to his hurt. Since he had neither sword nor other harness +he could do no more. The thieves therefore stripped him to his very +shirt, his boots and hosen, and binding him hand and foot with a +baldrick, cast him into a thorn bush, right thick and sharp. When +they had done this they hastened to the lady. From her they took her +palfrey and her vesture, even to the shift. Passing fair was the lady; +she wept full piteously, and never was dame more sorrowful than she. +Now one of these bold robbers stared upon the lady, and saw that she +was very fair. He spoke to his companions in this fashion, + +"Comrades, I have lost my brother in this broil. I will take this +woman for his blood money." + +But the others made answer, + +"I, too, have lost my kin. I claim as much as you, and my right is +good as yours." + +So said a third, and a fourth, and a fifth. Then spake yet another. + +"In keeping of the lady will be found neither peace nor profit. Rather +let us lead her from here within the forest, there do our pleasure +upon her, and then put her again upon the path, so that she may go her +way." + +Thus they did as they had devised together, and left her on the road. + +Right sick at heart was Messire Thibault when he saw her so entreated, +but nothing could he do. He bore no malice against his wife by reason +of that which had befallen, for well he knew that it, was by force, +and not according to her will. When he saw her again, weeping bitterly +and altogether shamed, he called to her, and said, + +"Wife, for God's love unloose me from these bonds, and deliver me from +the torment that I suffer, for these thorns are sharper than I can +endure." + +The lady hastened to the place where Sir Thibault lay, and marked a +sword flung behind the bush, belonging to one of those felons that +were slain. She took the glaive, and went towards her lord, filled +full of wrath and evil thoughts because of what had chanced to her. +She feared greatly lest her husband should bear malice for that which +he had seen, reproaching her upon a day, and taunting her for what was +past. She said, + +"Sir, you are out of your pain already." + +She raised the sword, and came towards her husband, thinking to strike +him midmost the body. When he marked the falling glaive he deemed that +his day had come, for he was a naked man, clad in nought but his shirt +and hosen. He trembled so sorely that his bonds were loosed, and the +lady struck so feebly that she wounded him but little, severing that +baldrick with which his hands were made fast. Thereat the knight brake +the cords about his legs, and leaping upon his feet, cried, "Dame, +by the grace of God it is not to-day that you shall slay me with the +sword." + +Then she made answer, "Truly, sir, the sorer grief is mine." + +Sir Thibault took the sword, and set it again in the sheath, +afterwards he put his hand upon the lady's shoulder, and brought her +back by the path they had fared. At the fringe of the woodland he +found a large part of his fellowship, who were come to meet him. When +these saw their lord and lady so spoiled and disarrayed they inquired +of them, "Sir, who hath put you in this case?" + +He set them by, saying that they had fallen amongst felons who had +done them much mischief. + +Mightily the sergeants lamented; but presently they fetched raiment +from the packs, and arrayed them, for enough they had and to spare. So +they climbed into the saddle, and continued their journey. + +They rode that day, nor for aught that had chanced did Messire +Thibault show sourer countenance to the lady. At nightfall they came +to a goodly town, and there took shelter in an inn. Messire Thibault +sought of his host if there was any convent of nuns in those parts +where a lady might repose her. The host made answer to him, + +"Sir, you are served to your wish. Just beyond the walls is a right +fair religious house, with many holy women." + +On the morrow Messire Thibault went to this house, and heard Mass. +Afterwards he spoke to the Abbess and her chapter, praying that he +might leave his lady in their charge, until his return; and this they +accorded very willingly. Messire Thibault bestowed the lady in this +convent, with certain of his house to do her service, and went his way +to bring his pilgrimage to a fair end. When he had knelt before the +shrine, and honoured the Saint, he came again to the convent and the +lady. He gave freely of his wealth to the house, and taking to himself +his wife, returned with her to their own land, in the same joy and +honour as he had brought her forth, save only that they lay not +together. + +Great was the gladness of the folk of that realm when Sir Thibault +returned to his home. The Count of Ponthieu, the father of his wife +was there, and there, too, was his uncle the Count of St. Pol. Many +worthy and valiant gentlemen came for his welcome, and a fair company +of dames and maidens likewise honoured the lady. That day the Count +of Ponthieu sat at meat with my lord Thibault, and ate from the same +dish, the two together. Then it happed that the Count spake to him, + +"Thibault, fair son, he who journeys far hears many a strange matter +and sees many strange sights, which are hidden from those who sit over +the fire. Tell me therefore, of your favour, something of all you have +seen and heard since you went from amongst us." + +Messire Thibault answered shortly that he knew no tale worth the +telling. The Count would take no denial, but plagued him so sorely, +begging him of his courtesy to tell over some adventure, that at the +last he was overborne. + +"Sir, I will narrate a story, since talk I must; but at least let it +be in your private ear, if you please, and not for the mirth of all." + +The Count replied that his pleasure was the same. After meat, when men +had eaten their fill, the Count rose in his chair, and taking my lord +Thibault by the hand, entreated, + +"Tell me now, I pray, that which it pleases you to tell, for there are +few of the household left in hall." + +Then Messire Thibault began to relate that which chanced to a knight +and a dame, even as it has been rehearsed before you in this tale; +only he named not the persons to whom this lot was appointed. The +Count, who was wise and sober of counsel, inquired what the knight had +done with the lady. Thibault made answer that the knight had brought +the lady back by the way she went, with the same joy and worship as he +led her forth, save only that they slept not together. + +"Thibault," said the Count, "your knight walked another road than I +had trod. By my faith in God and my love for you, I had hanged this +dame by her tresses to a tree. The laces of her gown would suffice if +I could find no other cord." + +"Sir," said Messire Thibault, "you have but my word. The truth can +only be assured if the lady might bear witness and testify with her +own mouth." + +"Thibault," said the Count, "know you the name of this knight?" + +"Sir," cried Messire Thibault, "I beg you again to exempt me from +naming the knight to whom this sorrow befell. Know of a truth that his +name will bring no profit." + +"Thibault," said the Count, "it is my pleasure that his name should +not be hid." + +"Sir," answered Thibault, "tell I must, as you will not acquit me; but +I take you to witness that I speak only under compulsion, since gladly +I would have kept silence, had this been your pleasure, for in the +telling there is neither worship nor honour." + +"Thibault," replied the Count, "without more words I would know +forthwith who was the knight to whom this adventure chanced. By the +faith that you owe to your God and to me, I conjure you to tell me his +name, since it is in your mind." + +"Sir," replied Messire Thibault, "I will answer by the faith I owe +my God and you, since you lay this charge upon me. Know well, and be +persuaded, that I am the knight on whom this sorrow lighted. Hold it +for truth that I was sorely troubled and sick of heart. Be assured +that never before have I spoken to any living man about the business, +and moreover that gladly would I have held my peace, had such been +your will." + +When the Count heard this adventure he was sore astonied, and +altogether cast down. He kept silence for a great space, speaking +never a word. At the last he said, "Thibault, was it indeed my child +who did this thing?" + +"Sir, it is verily and truly so." + +"Thibault," said the Count, "sweet shall be your vengeance, since you +have given her again to my hand." + +Because of his exceeding wrath the Count sent straightway for his +daughter, and demanded of her if those things were true of which +Messire Thibault had spoken. She inquired of the accusation, and her +father answered, "That you would have slain him with the sword, even +as he has told me?" + +"Sir, of a surety." + +"And wherefore would you slay your husband?" + +"Sir, for reason that I am yet heavy that he is not dead." + +When the Count heard the lady speak in this fashion, he answered her +nothing, but suffered in silence until the guests had departed. After +these were gone, the Count came on a day to Rue-sur-Mer, and Messire +Thibault with him, and the Count's son. With them also went the lady. +Then the Count caused a ship to be got ready, very stout and speedy, +and he made the dame to enter in the boat. He set also on the ship an +untouched barrel, very high and strong. These three lords climbed into +the nave, with no other company, save those sailors who should labour +at the oar. The Count commanded the mariners to put the ship to sea, +and all marvelled greatly as to what he purposed, but there was none +so bold as to ask him any questions. When they had rowed a great way +from the land, the Count bade them to strike the head from out the +barrel. He took that dame, his own child, who was so dainty and so +fair, and thrust her in the tun, whether she would or whether she +would not. This being done he caused the cask to be made fast again +with staves and wood, so that the water might in no manner enter +therein. Afterwards he dragged the barrel to the edge of the deck, and +with his own hand cast it into the sea, saying, + +"I commend thee to the wind and waves." + +Passing heavy was Messire Thibault at this, and the lady's brother +also, and all who saw. They fell at the Count's feet, praying him of +his grace that she might be delivered from the barrel. So hot was his +wrath that he would not grant their prayer, for aught that they might +do or say. They therefore left him to his rage, and turning to the +Heavenly Father, besought our Lord Jesus Christ that of His most sweet +pity He would have mercy on her soul, and give her pardon for her +sins. + +The ship came again to land, leaving the lady in sore peril and +trouble, even as the tale has told you. But our Lord Jesus Christ, who +is Lord and Father of all, and desireth not the death of a sinner, but +rather that he should turn from his wickedness and live--as each day +He showeth us openly by deed, by example and by miracle--sent succour +to this lady, even as you shall hear. For a ship from Flanders, laden +with merchandise, marked this barrel drifting at the mercy of winds +and waters, before ever the Count and his companions were come ashore. +One of the merchants said to his comrades, + +"Friends, behold a barrel drifting in our course. If we may reach it, +perchance we may find it to our gain." + +This ship was wont to traffic with the Saracens in their country, so +the sailors rowed towards the barrel, and partly by cunning and partly +by strength, at the last got it safely upon the deck. The merchants +looked long at the cask. They wondered greatly what it could be, and +wondering, they saw that the head of the barrel was newly closed. They +opened the cask, and found therein a woman at the point of death, for +air had failed her. Her body was gross, her visage swollen, and the +eyes started horribly from her head. When she breathed the fresh air +and felt the wind blow upon her, she sighed a little, so that the +merchants standing by, spoke comfortably to her, but she might not +answer them a word. In the end, heart and speech came again to her. +She spoke to the chapmen and the sailors who pressed about her, and +much she marvelled how she found herself amongst them. When she +perceived that she was with merchants and Christian men she was the +more easy, and fervently she praised Jesus Christ in her heart, +thanking Him for the loving kindness which had kept her from death. +For this lady was altogether contrite in heart, and earnestly desired +to amend her life towards God, repenting the trespass she had done +to others, and fearing the judgment that was rightly her due. The +merchants inquired of the lady whence she came, and she told them the +truth, saying that she was a miserable wretch and a poor sinner, as +they could see for themselves. She related the cruel adventure which +had chanced to her, and prayed them to take pity on a most unhappy +lady, and they answered that mercy they would show. So with meat and +drink her former beauty came to her again. + +Now this merchant ship fared so far that she came to the land of the +Paynims, and cast anchor in the port of Aumarie. Galleys of these +Saracens came to know their business, and they answered that they were +traffickers in divers merchandise in many a realm. They showed them +also the safe conduct they carried of princes and mighty lords that +they might pass in safety through their countries to buy and sell +their goods. The merchants got them to land in this port, taking the +lady with them. They sought counsel one of the other to know what it +were best to do with her. One was for selling her as a slave, but his +companion proposed to give her as a sop to the rich Soudan of Aumarie, +that their business should be the less hindered. To this they all +agreed. They arrayed the lady freshly in broidered raiment, and +carried her before the Soudan, who was a lusty young man. He accepted +their gift, receiving the lady with a right glad heart, for she was +passing fair. The Soudan inquired of them as to who she was. + +"Sire," answered the merchants, "we know no more than you, but +marvellous was the fashion in which she came to our hands." + +The gift was so greatly to the Soudan's mind that he served the +chapmen to the utmost of his power. He loved the lady very tenderly, +and entreated her in all honour. He held and tended her so well, that +her sweet colour came again to her, and her beauty increased beyond +measure. The Soudan sought to know by those who had the gift of +tongues as to the lady's home and race, but these she would not reveal +to any. He was the more thoughtful therefore, because he might see +that she was a dame of birth and lineage. He inquired of her as to +whether she were a Christian woman, promising that if she would deny +her faith, he would take her as his wife, since he was yet unwed. The +lady saw clearly that it were better to be converted by love than +perforce; so she answered that her religion was to do her master's +pleasure. When she had renounced her faith, and rejected the Christian +law, the Soudan made her his dame according to the use and wont of +this country of the Paynim. He held her very dear, cherishing her in +all honour, for his love waxed deeper as the days wore on. + +In due time it was with this lady after the manner of women, and she +came to bed of a son. The Soudan rejoiced greatly, being altogether +merry and content. The lady, for her part, lived in fair fellowship +with the folk of her husband's realm. Very courteous was she, and +very serviceable, so that presently she was instructed in the Saracen +tongue. In no long while after the birth of her son she conceived of +a maid, who in the years that befell grew passing sweet and fair, and +richly was she nurtured as became the daughter of so high a prince. +Thus for two years and a half the lady dwelt with the Paynim in much +softness and delight. + +Now the story keeps silence as to the lady and the Soudan, her +husband, till later, as you may hear, and returns to the Count of +Ponthieu, the son of the Count, and to my lord Thibault of Dommare, +who were left grieving for the dame who was flung into the sea, as you +have heard, nor knew aught of her tidings, but deemed that she were +rather dead than alive. Now tells the story--and the truth bears +witness to itself and is its own confirmation--that the Count was in +Ponthieu, together with his son, and Messire Thibault. Very heavy was +the Count, for in no wise could he get his daughter from his mind, +and grievously he lamented the wrong that he had done her. Messire +Thibault dared not take to himself another wife, because of the +anguish of his friend. The son of the Count might not wed also; +neither durst he to become knight, though he was come to an age when +such things are greatly to a young man's mind. + +On a day the Count considered deeply the sin that he had committed +against his own flesh. He sought the Archbishop of Rheims in +confession, and opened out his grief, telling in his ear the crime +that he had wrought. He determined to seek those holy fields beyond +the sea, and sewed the Cross upon his mantle. When Messire Thibault +knew that his lord, the Count, had taken the Cross, he confessed him, +and did likewise. And when the Count's son was assured of the purpose +of his sire and of Messire Thibault, whom he loved dearly, he took the +Cross with them. Passing heavy was the Count to mark the Sign upon his +son's raiment. + +"Fair son, what is this you have done; for now the land remains +without a lord!" + +The son answered, and said, "Father, I wear the Sign first and +foremost for the love of God; afterwards for the saving of my soul, +and by reason that I would serve and honour Him to the utmost of my +power, so long as I have life in my body." + +The Count put his realm in ward full wisely. He used diligence in +making all things ready, and bade farewell to his friends. Messire +Thibault and the son of the Count ordered their business, and the +three set forth together, with a fair company. They came to that holy +land beyond the sea, safe of person and of gear. There they made +devout pilgrimage to every place where they were persuaded it was meet +to go, and God might be served. When the Count had done all that +he was able, he deemed that there was yet one thing to do. He gave +himself and his fellowship to the service of the Temple for one year; +and at the end of this term he purposed to seek his country and his +home. He sent to Acre, and made ready a ship against his voyage. He +took his leave of the Knights Templar, and other lords of that land, +and greatly they praised him for the worship that he had brought them. +When the Count and his company were come to Acre they entered in the +ship, and departed from the haven with a fair wind. But little was +their solace. For when they drew to the open sea a strong and horrible +tempest sprang suddenly upon them, so that the sailors knew not where +they went, and feared each hour that all would be drowned. So piteous +was their plight that, with ropes, they bound themselves one to +another, the son to the father, the uncle to the nephew, according as +they stood. The Count, his son, and Messire Thibault for their part, +fastened themselves together, so that the same end should chance to +all. In no long time after this was done they saw land, and inquired +of the shipmen whither they were come. The mariners answered that this +realm belonged to the Paynim, and was called the Land of Aumarie. They +asked of the Count, + +"Sire, what is your will that we do? If we seek the shore, doubtless +we shall be made captives, and fall into the hands of the Saracen." + +The Count made answer, "Not my will, but the will of Jesus Christ be +done. Let the ship go as He thinks best. We will commit our bodies and +our lives to His good keeping, for a fouler and an uglier death we +cannot die, than to perish in this sea." + +They drove with the wind along the coast of Aumarie, and the galleys +and warships of the Saracens put out to meet them. Be assured that +this was no fair meeting, for the Paynims took them and led them +before the Soudan, who was lord of that realm. There they gave him +the goods and the bodies of these Christians as a gift. The Soudan +sundered this fair fellowship, setting them in many places and in +divers prisons; but since the Count, his son, and Messire Thibault +were so securely bound together, he commanded that they should be cast +into a dungeon by themselves, and fed upon the bread of affliction and +the water of affliction. So it was done, even as he commanded. In this +prison they lay for a space, till such time as the Count's son fell +sick. His sickness was so grievous that the Count and Messire Thibault +feared greatly that this sorrow was to death. + +Now it came to pass that the Soudan held high Court because of the day +of his birth, for such was the custom of the Saracens. After they had +well eaten, the Saracens stood before the Soudan, and said, + +"Sire, we require of you our right." + +He inquired of what right they were speaking, and they answered, + +"Sire, a Christian captive to set as a mark for our arrows." + +When the Soudan heard this he gave no thought to such a trifle, but +made reply, + +"Get you to the prison, and take out that captive who has the least of +life in him." + +The Paynim hastened to the dungeon, and brought forth the Count, +bearded, unkempt and foredone. The Soudan marked his melancholy case, +so he said to them, "This man has not long to live; take him hence, +and do your will on him." + +The wife of the Soudan, of whom you have heard, the daughter of this +very Count, was in the hall, when they brought forth her father to +slay him. Immediately that her eyes fell upon him the blood in her +veins turned to water; not so much that she knew him as her sire, but +rather that Nature tugged at her heart strings. Then spake the dame to +the Soudan, "Husband, I, too, am French, and would gladly speak with +this poor wretch ere he die, if so I may." + +"Wife," answered the Soudan, "truly, yes; it pleases me well." + +The lady came to the Count. She took him apart, and bidding the +Saracens fall back, she inquired of him whence he was. + +"Lady, I am from the kingdom of France, of a county that men call +Ponthieu." + +When the lady heard this her bowels were moved. Earnestly she demanded +his name and race. + +"Of a truth, lady, I have long forgotten my father's house, for I have +suffered such pain and anguish since I departed, that I would rather +die than live. But this you may know, that I--even the man who speaks +to you--was once the Count of Ponthieu." + +The lady hearkened to this, but yet she made no sign. She went from +the Count, and coming to the Soudan, said, + +"Husband, give me this captive as a gift, if such be your pleasure. He +knows chess and draughts and many fair tales to bring solace to the +hearer. He shall play before you, and we will make our pastime of his +skill." + +"Wife," answered the Soudan, "I grant him to you very willingly; do +with him as you wish." + +The lady took the captive, and bestowed him in her chamber. The +gaolers sought another in his stead, and brought forth my lord +Thibault, the husband to the dame. He came out in tatters, for he was +clothed rather in his long hair and great beard, than in raiment. His +body was lean and bony, and he seemed as one who had endured pain and +sorrow enough, and to spare. When the lady saw him she said to the +Soudan, + +"Husband, with this one also would I gladly speak, if so I may." + +"Wife," answered the Soudan, "it pleases me well." + +The lady came to my lord Thibault, and inquired of him whence he was. + +"Lady, I am of the realm of that ancient gentleman who was taken from +prison before me. I had his daughter to wife, and am his knight." + +The lady knew well her lord, so she returned to the Soudan, and said +to him, "Husband, great kindness will you show me, if you give me this +captive also." + +"Wife," said the Soudan, "I grant him to you very willingly." + +She thanked him sweetly, and bestowed the gift in her chamber, with +the other. + +The archers hastened together, and drawing before the Soudan said, +"Sire, you do us wrong, for the day is far spent." + +They went straight to the prison, and brought forth the son of the +Count, shagged and filthy, as one who had not known of water for many +a day. He was a young man, so young that his beard had not come on +him, but for all his youth he was so thin and sick and weak, that +he scarce could stand upon his feet. When the lady saw him she had +compassion upon him. She came to him asking whose son he was and of +his home, and he replied that he was son to that gentleman, who was +first brought out of the dungeon. She knew well that this was her +brother, but she made herself strange unto him. + +"Husband," said she to the Soudan, "verily you will shew kindness to +your wife beyond measure if you grant me this captive. He knows chess +and draughts and other delights passing fair to see and hear." + +And the Soudan made answer, "Wife, by our holy law if they were a +hundred I would give them all to you gladly." + +The lady thanked him tenderly, and bestowed the captive swiftly in +her chamber. The Saracens went again to the prison and fetched out +another, but the lady left him to his fate, when she looked upon his +face. So he won a martyr's crown, and our Lord Jesus Christ received +his soul. As for the dame, she hid herself from the sight, for it gave +her little joy, this slaying of the Christian by the Paynims. + +The lady came to her chamber, and at her coming the captives would +have got them to their feet, but she made signs that they should +remain seated. Drawing close she made gestures of friendship. The +Count, who was very shrewd, asked at this, "Lady, when will they slay +us?" + +She answered that their time had not yet come. + +"Lady," said he, "the sorer grief is ours, for we are so anhungered, +that for a little our souls would leave our bodies." + +The lady went out, and bade meat to be made ready. This she carried +in, giving to each a little, and to each a little drink. When they had +eaten, they had yet greater hunger than before. In this manner she fed +them, little by little, ten times a day, for she deemed that should +they eat to their desire, they would die of repletion. For this reason +she caused them to break their fast temperately. Thus the good lady +dealt with them for the first seven days, and at nights, by her grace, +they lay softly at their ease. She did away with their rags, and clad +them in seemly apparel. When the week was done she set before them +meat and drink to their heart's desire, so that their strength +returned to them again. They had chess and draughts, and played these +games to their great content. The Soudan was often with them. He +watched the play, and took pleasure in their gladness. But the lady +refrained, so that none might conceive, either by speech or fashion, +that he had known her before. + +Now a short while after this matter of the captives, the story tells +that the Soudan had business enough of his own, for a mighty Sultan +laid waste his realm, and sought to do him much mischief. To avenge +his wrong the Soudan commanded his vassals from every place, and +assembled a great host. When the lady knew this, she entered the +chamber where the captives lay, and sitting amidst them lifted her +hand, and said, "Sirs, you have told me somewhat of your business; now +will I be assured whether you are true men or not. You told me that in +your own land you were once the Count of Ponthieu, that this man was +wedded to your daughter, and that this other was your son. Know that I +am a Saracen, having the science of astrology; so I tell you plainly +that you were never so near to a shameful death, as you are now, if +you hide from me the truth. What chanced to your daughter, the wife of +this knight?" + +"Lady," replied the Count, "I deem her to be dead." + +"How came she to her death?" + +"Certes, lady," said the Count, "because for once she received her +deserts." + +"Tell me of these deservings," said the dame. + +Then the Count began to tell, with tears, of how she was wedded, but +was yet a barren wife; how the good knight vowed pilgrimage to my lord +St. James in Galicia, and how the lady prayed that she might go with +him, which prayer he granted willingly. He told how they went their +way with joy, till alone, in the deep wood, they met with sturdy +felons who set upon them. The good knight might do nothing against so +many, for he was a naked man; but despite of all, he slew three, and +five were left, who killed his palfrey, and spoiling him to the very +shirt, bound him hands and feet, and flung him into a thorn bush. They +spoiled the lady also and stole her palfrey from her. When they looked +upon her, and saw that she was fair, each would have taken her. +Afterwards they accorded that she should be to all, and having +had their will in her despite, they departed and left her weeping +bitterly. This the good knight saw, so he besought her courteously to +unloose his hands, that they might get them from the wood. But the +lady marked a sword belonging to one of these felons that were slain. +She handselled it, and hastening where he lay, cried in furious +fashion, "You are unbound already." Then she raised the naked sword, +and struck at his body. But by the loving kindness of God, and the +vigour of the knight, she but sundered the bonds that bound him, so +that he sprang forth, and wounded as he was, cried, "Dame, by the +grace of God it is not to-day that you shall kill me with the sword." + +At this word that fair lady, the wife of the Soudan, spoke suddenly, +and said, + +"Ah, sir, you have told the tale honestly, and very clear it is why +she would have slain him." + +"For what reason, lady?" + +"Certes," answered she, "for reason of the great shame which had +befallen her." + +When Messire Thibault heard this he wept right tenderly, and said, +"Alas, what part had she in this wickedness! May God keep shut the +doors of my prison if I had shown her the sourer face therefore, +seeing that her will was not in the deed." + +"Sir," said the lady, "she feared your reproach. But tell me which is +the more likely, that she be alive or dead?" + +"Lady," said Thibault, "we know not what to think." + +"Well I know," cried the Count, "of the great anguish we have +suffered, by reason of the sin I sinned against her." + +"If it pleased God that she were yet living," inquired the lady, "and +tidings were brought which you could not doubt, what would you have to +say?" + +"Lady," said the Count, "I should be happier than if I were taken from +this prison, or were granted more wealth than ever I have had in my +life." + +"Lady," said Messire Thibault, "so God give me no joy of my heart's +dearest wish, if I had not more solace than if men crowned me King of +France." + +"Certes, lady," said the dansellon, who was her brother, "none could +give or promise me aught so sweet, as the life of that sister, who was +so fair and good." + +When the lady hearkened to these words her heart yearned with +tenderness. She praised God, rendering Him thanks, and said to them, +"Be sure that you speak with unfeigned lips." + +And they answered and said that they spoke with unfeigned lips. Then +the lady began to weep with happy tears, and said to them, "Sir, now +may you truly say that you are my father, for I am that daughter on +whom you wrought such bitter justice. And you, Messire Thibault, are +my lord and husband; and you, sir dansellon, are my brother." + +Then she rehearsed to them in what manner she was found of the +chapmen, and how they bestowed her as a gift on the Soudan. They were +very glad, and rejoiced mightily, humbling themselves before her, but +she forbade them to show their mirth, saying, "I am a Saracen, and +have renounced the faith; otherwise I should not be here, but were +dead already. Therefore I pray and beseech you as you love your lives +and would prolong your days, whatever you may see or hear, not to show +me any affection, but keep yourselves strange to me, and leave me to +unravel the coil. Now I will tell why I have revealed myself to you. +My husband, the Soudan, rides presently to battle. I know well, +Messire Thibault, that you are a hardy knight, and I will pray the +Soudan to take you with him. If ever you were brave, now is the time +to make it plain. See to it that you do him such service that he have +no grievance against you." + +The lady departed forthwith, and coming before the Soudan, said, +"Husband, one of my captives desires greatly to go with you, if such +be your pleasure." + +"Wife," answered he, "I dare not put myself in his hand, for fear that +he may do me a mischief." + +"Husband, he will not dare to be false, since I hold his companions as +hostages." + +"Wife," said he, "I will take him with me, because of your counsel, +and I will deliver him a good horse and harness, and all that warrior +may require." + +The lady returned straightway to the chamber. She said to Messire +Thibault, "I have persuaded the Soudan to bring you to the battle. Act +therefore manfully." + +At this her brother knelt at her knee, praying her to plead with the +Soudan that he might go also. + +"That I may not do," said she, "or the thing will be too clear." + +The Soudan ordered his business, and went forth, Messire Thibault +being with him, and came upon the enemy. According to his word, the +Soudan had given to the knight both horse and harness. By the will of +Jesus Christ, who faileth never such as have faith and affiance in +Him, Messire Thibault did such things in arms that in a short space +the enemies of the Soudan were put under his feet. The Soudan rejoiced +greatly at his knight's deeds and his victory, and returned bringing +many captives with him. He went straight to the dame, and said, "Wife, +by my law I have naught but good to tell of your prisoner, for he has +done me faithful service. So he deny his faith, and receive our holy +religion, I will grant him broad lands, and find him a rich heiress in +marriage." + +"Husband, I know not, but I doubt if he will do this thing." + +No more was spoken of the matter; but the lady set her house in order, +as best she was able, and coming to her captives said, "Sirs, go +warily, so that the Saracens see nothing of what is in our mind; for, +please God, we shall yet win to France and the county of Ponthieu." + +On a day the lady came before the Soudan. She went in torment, and +lamented very grievously. + +"Husband, it is with me as it was before. Well I know it, for I have +fallen into sore sickness, and my food has no relish in my mouth, no, +not since you went to the battle." + +"Wife, I am right glad to hear that you are with child, although your +infirmity is very grievous unto me. Consider and tell me those things +that you deem will be to your healing, and I will seek and procure +them whatever the cost." + +When the lady heard this, her heart beat lightly in her breast. She +showed no semblance of joy, save this only, that she said, "Husband, +my old captive tells me that unless I breathe for awhile such air as +that of my native land, and that quickly, I am but dead, for in nowise +have I long to live." + +"Wife," said the Soudan, "your death shall not be on my conscience. +Consider and show me where you would go, and there I will cause you to +be taken." + +"Husband, it is all one to me, so I be out of this city." + +Then the Soudan made ready a ship, both fair and strong, and garnished +her plenteously with wines and meats. + +"Husband," said the lady to the Soudan, "I will take of my captives +the aged and the young, that they may play chess and draughts at my +bidding, and I will carry with me my son for my delight." + +"Wife," answered he, "your will is my pleasure. But what shall be done +with the third captive?" + +"Husband, deal with him after your desire." + +"Wife, I desire that you take him on the ship; for he is a brave man, +and will keep you well, both on land and sea, if you have need of his +sword." + +The lady took leave of the Soudan, bidding him farewell, and urgently +he prayed her to return so soon as she was healed of her sickness. The +stores being put upon the ship and all things made ready, they entered +therein and set sail from the haven. With a fair wind they went very +swiftly, so that the shipmen sought the lady, saying, "Madam, this +wind is driving the boat to Brindisi. Is it your pleasure to take +refuge there, or to go elsewhere?" + +"Let the ship keep boldly on her course," answered the lady to them, +"for I speak French featly and other tongues also, so I will bring you +to a good end." + +They made such swift passage by day and by night, that according to +the will of Our Lord they came quickly to Brindisi. The ship cast +anchor safely in the harbour, and they lighted on the shore, being +welcomed gladly by the folk of that country. The lady, who was very +shrewd, drew her captives apart, and said, "Sirs, I desire you to +call to mind the pledge and the covenant you have made. I must now be +certain that you are true men, remembering your oaths and plighted +words. I pray you to let me know, by all that you deem of God, whether +you will abide or not by our covenant together; for it is yet not too +late to return to my home." + +They answered, "Lady, know beyond question that the bargain we have +made we will carry out loyally. By our faith in God and as christened +men we will abide by this covenant; so be in no doubt of our +assurance." + +"I trust you wholly," replied the lady; "but, sirs, see here my son, +whom I had of the Soudan, what shall we do with him?" + +"Lady, the boy is right welcome, and to great honour shall he come in +our own land." + +"Sirs," said the dame, "I have dealt mischievously with the Soudan, +for I have stolen my person from him, and the son who was so dear to +his heart." + +The lady went again to the shipmen, and lifting her hand, said to +them, "Sirs, return to the Soudan whence you came, and greet him with +this message. Tell him that I have taken from him my body and the son +he loved so well, that I might deliver my father, my lord, and my +brother from the prison where they were captive." + +When the sailors heard this they were very dolent, but there was +naught that they might do. They set sail for their own country, sad +and very heavy by reason of the lady, of the young lad, whom they +loved greatly, and of the captives who were escaped altogether from +their hand. + +For his part the Count arrayed himself meetly by grace of merchants +and Templars, who lent him gladly of their wealth. He abode in the +town, together with his fellowship, for their solace, till they made +them ready for the journey, and took the road to Rome. The Count +sought the Pontiff, and his company with him. Each confessed him +of the secrets of his heart, and when the Bishop heard thereof, +he accepted their devotion, and comforted them right tenderly. He +baptised the child, who was named William. He reconciled the lady with +Holy Church, and confirmed the lady and Messire Thibault her lord, in +their marriage bond, reknitting them together, giving penance to each, +and absolution for their sins. After this they made no long sojourn +in Rome, but took their leave of the Apostle who had honoured them so +greatly. He granted them his benison, and commended them to God. So +they went their way in great solace and delight, praising God and His +Mother, and all the calendar of saints, and rendering thanks for the +mercies which had been vouchsafed to them. Journeying thus they +came at last to the country of their birth, and were met by a fair +procession of bishops and abbots, monks and priests, who had desired +them fervently. But of all these welcomes they welcomed most gladly +her who was recovered from death, and had delivered her sire, her +lord, and her brother from the hands of the Paynim, even as you have +heard. There we leave them for awhile, and will tell you of the +shipmen and Saracens who had fared with them across the sea. + +The sailors and Saracens who had carried them to Brindisi, returned +as quickly as they were able, and with a fair wind cast anchor before +Aumarie. They got them to land, very sad and heavy, and told their +tidings to the Soudan. Right sorrowful was the Soudan, and neither for +time nor reason could he forget his grief. Because of this mischief he +loved that daughter the less who tarried with him, and showed her the +less courtesy. Nevertheless the maiden increased in virtue and in +wisdom, so that the Paynim held her in love and honour, praising her +for the good that was known of her. But now the story is silent as to +that Soudan who was so tormented by reason of the flight of his dame +and captives; and comes again to the Count of Ponthieu, who was +welcomed to his realm with such pomp and worship, as became a lord of +his degree. + +In no long while after his return the son of the Count was dubbed +knight, and rich was the feast. He became a knight both chivalrous and +brave. Greatly he loved all honourable men, and gladly he bestowed +fair gifts on the poor knights and poor gentlewomen of the country. +Much was he esteemed of lord and hind, for he was a worthy knight, +generous, valiant and debonair, proud only to his foes. Yet his days +on earth were but a span, which was the sorer pity, for he died +lamented of all. + +Now it befell that the Count held high Court, and many a knight and +lord sat with him at the feast. Amongst these came a very noble man +and knight, of great place, in Normandy, named my lord Raoul des +Preaux. This Raoul had a daughter, passing sweet and fair. The Count +spoke so urgently to Raoul and to the maiden's kin that a marriage +was accorded between William, his grandson, the son of the Soudan of +Aumarie, and the daughter of my lord Raoul, the heiress to all his +wealth. William wedded the damsel with every rich observance, and in +right of his wife this William became Lord of Preaux. + +For a long while the realm had peace from its foes. + +Messire Thibault dwelt with the lady, and had of her two sons, who +in later days were worthy gentlemen of great worship. The son of the +Count of Ponthieu, of whom we have spoken much and naught but good, +died shortly after, to the grief of all the land. The Count of St. Pol +was yet alive; therefore the two sons of my lord Thibault were heirs +to both these realms, and attained thereto in the end. That devout +lady, their mother, because of her contrite heart, gave largely to +the poor; and Messire Thibault, like the honourable gentleman he was, +abounded in good works so long as he was quick. + +Now it chanced that the daughter of the lady, who abode with the +Soudan her father, increased greatly in favour and in virtue. She was +called The Fair Captive, by reason that her mother had left her in +the Soudan's keeping, as you have heard. A certain brave Turk in the +service of the Soudan--Malakin of Baudas by name--saw this damsel, so +fair and gracious, and desired her dearly in his heart, because of the +good men told of her. He came before his master, and said to him, + +"Sire, in return for his labour your servant craves a gift." + +"Malakin," returned the Soudan, "what gift would you have?" + +"Sire, I would dare to tell it to your face, if only she were not so +high above my reach." + +The Sultan who was both shrewd and quick witted made reply, + +"Say out boldly what is in your mind, for I hold you dear, and +remember what you have done. If there is aught it beseems me to +grant--saving only my honour--be assured that it is yours." + +"Sire, well I know that your honour is without spot, nor would I seek +anything against it. I pray you to bestow on your servant--if so it be +your pleasure--my lady your daughter, for she is the gift I covet most +in all the world." + +The Soudan kept silence, and considered for a space. He knew well that +Malakin was both valiant and wise, and might easily come to great +honour and degree. Since the servant was worthy of his high desire, +the Soudan said, "By my law you have required of me a great thing, for +I love my daughter dearly, and have no other heir. You know well, and +it is the simple truth, that she comes of the best and bravest blood +in France, for her mother is the child of the Count of Ponthieu. But +since you too are valiant, and have done me loyal service, for my part +I will give her to you willingly, save only that it be to the maiden's +mind." + +"Sire," said Malakin, "I would not take her against her wish." + +The Soudan bade the girl be summoned. When she came, he said, "Fair +daughter, I have granted you in marriage, if it pleases you." + +"Sir," answered the maiden, "my pleasure is in your will." + +The Soudan took her by the hand, saying, "Take her, Malakin, the maid +is yours." + +Malakin received her with a glad heart, and wedded her according to +the Paynim rite, bringing her to his house right joyously, with the +countenance of all his friends. Afterwards he returned with her to his +own land. The Soudan escorted them upon their way, with such a fair +company of his household as seemed good to him. Then he bade farewell +to his child and her lord, and returned to his home. But a great part +of his fellowship he commanded to go with her for their service, +Malakin came back to his own land, where he was welcomed right gladly +of his friends, and served and honoured by all the folk of his realm. +He lived long and tenderly with his wife, neither were they childless, +as this story testifies. For of this lady, who was called the Fair +Captive, was born the mother of that courteous Turk, the Sultan +Saladin, an honourable, a wise, and a conquering lord. + + + + +XVII + + +THE CHATELAINE OF VERGI + +There are divers men who make a great show of loyalty, and pretend to +such discretion in the hidden things they hear, that at the end folk +come to put faith in them. When by their false seeming they have +persuaded the simple to open out to them their love and their deeds, +then they noise the matter about the country, and make it their song +and their mirth. Thus it chances that the lesser joy is his who has +bared to them his heart. For the sweeter the love, the more bitter is +the pang that lovers know, when each deems the other to have bruited +abroad the secret he should conceal. Oftentimes these blabbers do such +mischief with their tongue, that the love they spoil comes to its +close in sorrow and in care. This indeed happened in Burgundy to a +brave and worthy knight, and to the Lady of Vergi. This knight loved +his lady so dearly that she granted him her tenderness, on such +covenant as this--that the day he showed her favour to any, that very +hour he would lose the love and the grace she bestowed on him. To seal +this bond they devised together that the knight should come a days to +an orchard, at such hour as seemed good to his friend. He must remain +coy in his nook within the wall till he might see the lady's lapdog +run across the orchard. Then without further tarrying he should enter +her chamber, knowing full well she was alone, whom so fondly he +desired to greet. This he did, and in this fashion they met together +for a great while, none being privy to their sweet and stolen love, +save themselves alone. + +The knight was courteous and fair, and by reason of his courage was +right welcome to that Duke who was lord of Burgundy. He came and went +about the Court, and that so often that the Duchess set her mind upon +him. She cared so little to hide her thought, that had his heart not +been in another's keeping, he must surely have perceived in her eyes +that she loved him. But however tender her semblance the knight showed +no kindness in return, for he marked nothing of her inclination. +Passing troubled was the dame that he should treat her thus; so that +on a day she took him apart, and sought to make him of her counsel. + +"Sir, as men report, you are a brave and worthy knight, for the which +give God thanks. It would not be more than your deserts, if you had +for friend a lady in so high a place that her love would bring to you +both honour and profit. How richly could such a lady serve you!" + +"Lady," said he, "I have never yet had this in my thought." + +"By my faith," she answered, "it seems to me that the longer you wait, +the less is your hope. Perchance the lady will stoop very readily from +her throne, if you but kneel at her knee." + +The knight replied, "Lady, by my faith, I know little why you speak +such words, and I understand their meaning not at all. I am neither +duke nor count to dare to set my love in so high a seat. There is +nought in me to gain the love of so sovereign a dame, pain me how I +may." + +"Such things have been," said she, "and so may chance again. Many more +marvellous works have been wrought than this, and the day of miracles +is not yet past. Tell me, know you not yet that you have gained the +love of some high princess, even mine?" + +The knight made answer forthwith, "Lady, I know it not. I would desire +to have your love in a fair and honourable fashion; but may God keep +me from such love between us, as would put shame upon my lord. In no +manner, nor for any reason, will I enter on such a business as would +lead me to deal my true and lawful lord so shrewd and foul a wrong." + +Bitter at heart was the dame to see her love so scorned. + +"Fie upon you," she cried, "and who required of you any such thing?" + +"Ah, lady, to God be the praise; you have said enough to make your +meaning passing plain." + +The lady strove no more to show herself kind to him. Great was the +wrath and sharp the malice that she hid within her heart, and well she +purposed that, if she might, she would avenge herself speedily. All +the day she considered her anger. That night as she lay beside the +Duke she began to sigh, and afterwards to weep. Presently the Duke +inquired of her grief, bidding her show it him forthwith. + +"Certes," said the dame, "I make this great sorrow because no prince +can tell who is his faithful servant, and who is not. Often he gives +the more honour and wealth to those who are traitors rather than +friends, and sees nothing of their wrong." + +"In faith, wife," answered the Duke, "I know not why you speak these +words. At least I am free of such blame as this, for in nowise would I +nourish a traitor, if only a traitor I knew him to be." + +"Hate then this traitor," cried she,--and she named a name--"who gives +me no peace, praying and requiring me the livelong day that I should +grant him my love. For a great while he had been in this mind--as he +says--but did not dare to speak his thoughts. I considered the whole +matter, fair lord, and resolved to show it you at once. It is likely +enough to be true that he cherished this hope, for we have never heard +that he loves elsewhere. I entreat you in guerdon, to look well to +your own honour, since this, as you know, is your duty and right." + +Passing grievous was this business to the Duke. He answered to the +lady, + +"I will bring it to a head, and very quickly, as I deem." + +That night the Duke lay upon a bed of little ease. He could neither +sleep nor rest, by reason of that lord, his friend, who, he was +persuaded, had done him such bitter wrong as justly to have forfeited +his love. Because of this he kept vigil the whole night through. He +rose very early on the morrow, and bade him come whom his wife had put +to blame, although he had done nothing blameworthy. Then he took him +to task, man to man, when there were but these two together. + +"Certes," he said, "it is a heavy grief that you who are so comely +and brave, should yet have no honour in you. You have deceived me the +more, for I have long believed you to be a man of good faith, giving +loyalty, at least, to me, in return for the love I have given to you. +I know not how you can have harboured such a felon's wish, as to pray +and require the Duchess to grant you her grace. You are guilty of such +treachery that conduct more vile it would be far to seek. Get you +hence from my realm. You have my leave to part, and it is denied to +you for ever. If you return here it will be at your utmost peril, for +I warn you beforehand that if I lay hands upon you, you will die a +shameful death." + +When the knight heard this judgment, such wrath and mortification +were his that his members trembled beneath him. He called to mind his +friend, of whom he would have no joy, if he might not come and go and +sojourn in that realm from which the Duke had banished him. Moreover +he was sick at heart that his lord should deem him a disloyal traitor, +without just cause. He knew such sore discomfort that he held himself +as dead and betrayed. + +"Sire," said he, "for the love of God believe this never, neither +think that I have been so bold. To do that of which you wrongfully +charge me, has never entered my mind, not one day, nor for one single +hour. Who has told you this lie has wrought a great ill." + +"You gain nothing by such denials," answered the Duke, "for of a +surety the thing is true. I have heard from her own lips the very +guise and fashion in which you prayed and required her love, like the +envious traitor that you are. Many another word it may well be that +you spoke, as to which the lady of her courtesy keeps silence." + +"My lady says what it pleases her to say," replied the dolorous +knight, "and my denials are lighter than her word. Naught is there for +me to say; nothing is left for me to do, so that I may be believed +that this adventure never happened." + +"Happen it did, by my soul," said the Duke, remembering certain words +of his wife. Well he deemed that he might be assured of the truth, +if but the lady's testimony were true that this lord had never loved +otherwhere. Therefore the Duke said to the knight, "If you will pledge +your faith to answer truly what I may ask, I shall be certified by +your words whether or not you have done this deed of which I misdoubt +you." + +The knight had but one desire--to turn aside his lord's wrath, which +had so wrongfully fallen upon him. He feared only lest he should be +driven from the land where lodged the dame who was the closest to his +mind. Knowing nothing of what was in the Duke's thought, he considered +that his question could only concern the one matter; so he replied +that without fraud or concealment he would do as his lord had said. +Thus he pledged his faith, and the Duke accepted his affiance. + +When this was done the Duke made question, + +"I have loved you so dearly that at the bottom of my heart I cannot +believe you guilty of such shameless misdoing as the Duchess tells me. +I would not credit it a moment, if you yourself were not the cause of +my doubtfulness. From your face, the care you bestow upon your person, +and a score of trifles, any who would know, can readily see that you +are in love with some lady. Since none about the Court perceives +damsel or dame on whom you have set your heart, I ask myself whether +indeed it may not be my wife, who tells me that you have entreated her +for love. Nothing that any one may do can take this suspicion from my +mind, except you tell me yourself that you love elsewhere, making it +so plain that I am left without doubt that I know the naked truth. If +you refuse her name you will have broken your oath, and forth from my +realm you go as an outlawed man." + +The knight had none to give him counsel. To himself he seemed to stand +at the parting of two ways, both one and the other leading to death. +If he spoke the simple truth (and tell he must if he would not be a +perjurer) then was he as good as dead; for if he did such wrong as to +sin against the covenant with his lady and his friend, certainly he +would lose her love, so it came to her knowledge. But if he concealed +the truth from the Duke, then he was false to his oath, and had lost +both country and friend. But little he recked of country, so only he +might keep his Love, since of all his riches she was the most dear. +The knight called to heart and remembrance the fair joy and the solace +that were his when he had this lady between his arms. He considered +within himself that if by reason of his misdoing she came to harm, or +were lost to him, since he might not take her where he went, how could +he live without her. It would be with him also, as erst with the +Castellan of Couci, who having his Love fast only in his heart, told +over in his song, + + Ah, God, strong Love, I sit and weep alone, + Remembering the solace that was given; + The tender guise, the semblance that was shown + By her, my friend, my comrade, and my Heaven. + + When grief brings back the joy that was mine own, + I would the heart from out my breast were riven. + Ah, Lord, the sweet words hushed, the beauty flown; + Would God that I were dead, and low, and shriven. + +The knight was in anguish such as this, for he knew not whether to +make clear the truth, or to lie and be banished from the country. + +Whilst he was deep in thought, turning over in his mind what it were +best to do, tears rose in his heart and flowed from his eyes, so that +his face was wet, by reason of the sorrow that he suffered. The Duke +had no more mirth than the knight, deeming that his secret was so +heavy that he dared not make it plain. The Duke spoke swiftly to his +friend, + +"I see clearly that you fear to trust me wholly, as a knight should +trust his lord. If you confess your counsel privily to me, you cannot +think that I shall show the matter to any man. I would rather have my +teeth drawn one by one, than speak a word." + +"Ah," cried the knight, "for God's love, have pity, Sire. I know not +what I ought to say, nor what will become of me; but I would rather +die than lose what lose I shall if she only hears that you have the +truth, and that you heard it from my lips, whilst I am a living man." + +The Duke made answer, + +"I swear to you by my body and my soul, and on the faith and love I +owe you again by reason of your homage, that never in my life will I +tell the tale to any creature born, or even breathe a word or make a +sign about the business." + +With the tears yet running down his face the knight said to him, + +"Sire, right or wrong, now will I show my secret. I love your niece of +Vergi, and she loves me, so that no friends can love more fondly." + +"If you wish to be believed," replied the Duke, "tell me now, if any, +save you two alone, knows anything of this joy?" + +And the knight made answer to him, + +"Nay, not a creature in the world." + +Then said the Duke, + +"No love is so privy as that. If none has heard thereof, how do you +meet together, and how devise time and place?" + +"By my faith, Sire, I will tell you all, and keep back nothing, since +you know so much of our counsel." + +So he related the whole story of his goings to and fro within the +pleasaunce; of that first covenant with his friend, and of the office +of the little dog. + +Then said the Duke, + +"I require of you that I may be your comrade at such fair meeting. +When you go again to the orchard, I too, would enter therein, and +mark for myself the success of your device. As for my niece she shall +perceive naught." + +"Sire, if it be your will it is my pleasure also; save, only, that you +find it not heavy or burdensome. Know well that I go this very night." + +The Duke said that he would go with him, for the vigil would in no +wise be burdensome, but rather a frolic and a game. They accorded +between them a place of meeting, where they would draw together on +foot, and alone. When nightfall was come they fared to the hostel of +the Duke's niece, for her dwelling was near at hand. They had not +tarried long in the garden, when the Duke saw his niece's lapdog run +straight to that end of the orchard where the knight was hidden. +Wondrous kindness showed the knight to his lady's dog. Immediately he +took his way to her lodging, and left his master in his nook by the +wall. The Duke followed after till he drew near the chamber, and held +himself coy, concealing him as best he might. It was easy enough to +do this, for a great tree stood there, high and leafy, so that he was +covered close as by a shield. From this place he marked the little dog +enter the chamber, and presently saw his niece issue therefrom, and +hurry forth to meet her lover in the pleasaunce. He was so close that +he could see and hear the solace of that greeting, the salutation of +her mouth and of her hands. She embraced him closely in her fair white +arms, kissing him more than a hundred times, whilst she spoke many +comforting words. The knight for his part kissed her again, and held +her fast, praising her with many tender names. + +"My lady, my friend, my love," said he, "heart and mistress and hope, +and the sum of all that I hold dear, know well that I have yearned to +be with you as we are now, every day and all day long since we met." + +"Sweet lord, sweet friend, sweet love," replied the lady, "never has a +day nor an hour gone by but I was awearied of its length. But I grieve +no longer over the past, for I have my heart's desire when you are +with me, joyous and well. Right welcome are you to your friend." + +And the knight made answer, + +"Love, you are welcome and wellmet." + +From his place of hiding, near the entrance to the chamber, the Duke +hearkened to every word. His niece's voice and face were so familiar +to him, that he could not doubt that the Duchess had lied. Greatly was +he content, for he was now assured that his friend had not done amiss +in that of which he had misdoubted him. All through the night he kept +watch and ward. But during his vigil the dame and the knight, close +and sleepless in the chamber, knew such joy and tenderness as it is +not seemly should be told or heard, save of those who hope themselves +to attain such solace, when Love grants them recompense for all their +pains. For he who desires nothing of this joy and quittance, even +if it were told him, would but listen to a tongue he could not +understand, since his heart is not turned to Love, and none can know +the wealth of such riches, except Love whisper it in his ear. Of such +kingdom not all are worthy: for there joy goes without anger, and +solace is crowned with fruition. But so fleet are things sweet, that +to the lover his joy seems to find but a brief content. So pleasant +is the life he passes that he wishes his night a week, his week to +stretch to a month, the month become a year, and one year three, and +three years twenty, and the twenty attain to a hundred. Yea, when the +term and end were reached, he would that the dusk were closing, rather +than the dawn had come. + +This was the case with the lover whom the Duke awaited in the orchard. +When day was breaking, and he durst remain no longer, he came with his +lady to the door. The Duke marked the fashion of their leave-taking, +the kisses given and granted, the sighs and the weeping as they bade +farewell. When they had wept many tears, and devised an hour for their +next meeting, the knight departed in this fashion, and the lady shut +the door. But so long as she might see him, she followed his going +with her pretty eyes, since there was nothing better she could do. + +When the Duke knew the postern was made fast, he hastened on his road +until he overtook the knight, who to himself was making his complaint +of the season, that all too short was his hour. The same thought +and the self same words were hers from whom he had parted, for the +briefness of the time had betrayed her delight, and she had no praises +for the dawn. The knight was deep in his thought and speech, when he +was overtaken by the Duke. The Duke embraced his friend, greeting him +very tenderly. Then he said to him, + +"I pledge my faith that I will love you all the days of my life, never +on any day seeking to do you a mischief, for you have told me the very +truth, and have not lied to me by a single word." + +"Sire," he made answer, "thanks and gramercy. But for the love of +God I require and pray of you that it be your pleasure to hide this +counsel; for I should lose my love, and the peace and comfort of my +life--yea, and should die without sin of my own, if I deemed that any +other in this realm than yourself knew aught of the business." + +"Now speak of it never," replied the Duke. "Know that the counsel +shall be kept so hidden, that by me shall not a syllable be spoken." + +On this covenant they came again whence they had set forth together. +That day, when men sat at meat, the Duke showed to his knight a +friendlier semblance and a fairer courtesy than ever he had done +before. The Duchess felt such wrath and despitefulness at this, +that--without any leasing--she rose from the table, and making +pretence of sudden sickness, went to lie upon her bed, where she found +little softness. When the Duke had eaten and washed and made merry, he +afterwards sought his wife's chamber, and causing her to be seated on +her bed, commanded that none should remain, save himself. So all men +went forth at his word, even as he had bidden. Thereupon the Duke +inquired of the lady how this evil had come to her, and of what she +was sick. She made answer, + +"As God hears me, never till I ate at table did I deem that you had so +little sense or decency, as when I saw you making much of him, who, I +have told you already, strove to bring shame and disgrace on me. When +I watched you entreat him with more favour than even was your wont, +such great sorrow and such great anger took hold on me, that I could +not contain myself in the hall." + +"Sweet friend," replied the Duke, "know that I shall never +believe--either from your lips or from those of any creature in the +world--that the story ever happened as you rehearsed it. I am so deep +in his counsel that he has my quittance, for I have full assurance +that he never dreamed of such a deed. But as to this you must ask of +me no more." + +The Duke went straightway from the chamber, leaving the lady sunk in +thought. However long she had to live, never might she know an hour's +comfort, till she had learnt something of that secret of which the +Duke forbade her to seek further. No denial could now stand in her +way, for in her heart swiftly she devised a means to unriddle this +counsel, so only she might endure until the evening, and the Duke was +in her arms. She was persuaded that, beyond doubt, such solace would +win her wish more surely than wrath or tears. For this purpose she +held herself coy, and when the Duke came to lie at her side she betook +herself to the further side of the bed, making semblance that his +company gave her no pleasure. Well she knew that such show of anger +was the device to put her lord beneath her feet. Therefore she turned +her back upon him, that the Duke might the more easily be drawn by +the cords of her wrath. For this same reason when he had no more than +kissed her, she burst out, + +"Right false and treacherous and disloyal are you to make such a +pretence of affection, who yet have never loved me truly one single +day. All these years of our wedded life I have been foolish enough to +believe, what you took such pains in the telling, that you loved +me with a loyal heart. To-day I see plainly that I was the more +deceived." + +"In what are you deceived?" inquired the Duke. + +"By my faith," cried she, who was sick of her desire, "you warn me +that I be not so bold as to ask aught of that of which you know the +secret." + +"In God's name, sweet wife, of what would you know?" + +"Of all that he has told you, the lies and the follies he has put in +your mind, and led you to believe. But it matters little now whether I +hear it or not, for I remember how small is my gain in being your true +and loving wife. For good or for ill I have shown you all my counsel. +There was nothing that was known and seen of my heart that you were +not told at once; and of your courtesy you repay me by concealing your +mind. Know, now, without doubt, that never again shall I have in you +such affiance, nor grant you my love with such sweetness, as I have +bestowed them in the past." + + +Thereat the Duchess began to weep and sigh, making the most tender +sorrow that she was able. The Duke felt such pity for her grief that +he said to her, + +"Fairest and dearest, your wrath and anger are more heavy than I can +bear; but learn that I cannot tell what you wish me to say without +sinning against my honour too grievously." + +Then she replied forthwith, + +"Husband, if you do not tell me, the reason can only be that you do +not trust me to keep silence in the business. I wonder the more sorely +at this, because there is no matter, either great or small, that you +have told me, which has been published by me. I tell you honestly that +never in my life could I be so indiscreet." + +When she had said this, she betook her again to her tears. The Duke +kissed and embraced her, and was so sick of heart that strength failed +him to keep his purpose. + +"Fair wife," he said to her, "by my soul I am at my wits' end. I have +such trust and faith in you that I deem I should hide nothing, but +show you all that I know. Yet I dread that you will let fall some +word. Know, wife--and I tell it you again--that if ever you betray +this counsel you will get death for your payment." + +The Duchess made answer, + +"I agree to the bargain, for it is not possible that I should deal you +so shrewd a wrong." + +Then he who loved her, because of his faith and his credence in her +word, told all this story of his niece, even as he had learned it from +the knight. He told how those two were alone together in the shadow of +the wall, when the little dog ran to them. He showed plainly of that +coming forth from the chamber, and of the entering in; nothing was +hid, he concealed naught of that he had heard and seen. When the +Duchess understood that the love of a mighty dame was despised for the +sake of a lowly gentlewoman, her humiliation was bitter in her mouth +as death. She showed no semblance of despitefulness, but made covenant +and promise with the Duke to keep the matter close, saying that should +she repeat his tale he might hang her from a tree. + +Time went very heavily with the lady, till she could get speech with +her, whom she hated from the hour she knew her to be the friend of him +who had caused her such shame and grief. She was persuaded that for +this reason he would not give her love, in return for that she set on +him. She confirmed herself in her purpose, that at such time and place +she saw the Duke speaking with his niece, she would go swiftly to the +lady, and tell out all her mind, hiding nothing because it was evil. +Neither time nor place was met, till Pentecost was come, and the Duke +held high Court, commanding to the feast all the ladies of his realm, +amongst the first that lady, his niece, who was the Chatelaine of +Vergi. When the Duchess looked on her, the blood pricked in her veins, +for reason that she hated her more than aught else in the world. She +had the courage to hide her malice, and greeted the lady more gladly +than ever she had done before. But she yearned to show openly the +anger that burned in her heart, and the delay was much against her +mind. On Pentecost, whilst the tables were removed, the Duchess +brought the ladies to her chamber with her, that, apart from the +throng, they might the more graciously attire them for the dance. She +deemed her hour had come, and having no longer the power to refrain +her lips, she said gaily, as if in jest, + +"Chatelaine, array yourself very sweetly, since there is a fair and +worthy lord you have to please." + +The lady answered right simply, + +"In truth, madam, I know not what you are thinking of; but for my part +I wish for no such friendship as may not be altogether according to my +honour and to that of my lord." + +"I grant that readily," replied the Duchess, "you are a good mistress, +and have an apt pupil in your little dog." + +The ladies returned with the Duchess to the hall, where the dances +were already set. They had listened to the tale, but could not mark +the jest. The chatelaine remained in the chamber. Her colour came and +went, and because of her wrath and trouble the heart throbbed thickly +in her breast. She passed within a tiring chamber, where a little +maiden was lying at the foot of the bed; but for grief she might not +perceive her. The chatelaine flung herself upon the bed, bewailing her +evil plight, for she was exceedingly sorrowful. She said, + +"Ah, Lord God, take pity on me! What may this mean, that I have +listened to my lady's reproaches because of the training of my little +dog! This she can have learned from none--as well I know--save from +him whom I have loved, and who has betrayed me. He would never have +shown her this thing, except that he was her familiar friend, and +doubtless loves her more dearly than me, whom he has betrayed. I see +now the value of his oaths, since he finds it so easy to fail in his +covenant. Sweet God, and I loved him so fondly, more fondly than any +woman has loved before; who never had him from my thoughts one single +hour, whether it were night or day. For he was my mirth and my carol; +in him were my joy and my pleasure; he alone was my solace and +comfort. Ah, my friend, how can this have come; you who were always +with me, even when I might not see you with my eyes! What ill has +befallen you, that you durst prove false to me? I deemed you more +faithful--God take me in His keeping--than ever was Tristan to Isoude. +May God pity a poor fool, I loved you half as much again than I had +love for myself. From the first to the last of our friendship, never +by thought, or by word, or by deed, have I done amiss; there is no +wrong doing, trifling or great, to make plain your hatred, or to +excuse so vile a betrayal as this scorning of our love for a fresher +face, this desertion of me, this proclaiming of our secret. Alas, my +friend, I marvel greatly; for as God is my witness my heart was not +thus towards you. If God had offered me all the kingdoms of the world, +yea, and His Heaven and its Paradise besides, I would have refused +them gladly, had my gain meant the losing of you. For you were my +wealth and my song and my health, and nothing can hurt me any more, +since my heart has learnt that yours no longer loves me. Ah, lasting, +precious love! Who could have guessed that he would deal this blow, to +whom I gave the grace of my tenderness--who said that I was his lady +both in body and in soul, and he the slave at my bidding. Yea, he told +it over so sweetly, that I believed him faithfully, nor thought in any +wise that his heart would bear wrath and malice against me, whether +for Duchess or for Queen. How good was this love, since the heart in +my breast must always cleave to his! I counted him to be my friend, in +age as in youth, our lives together; for well I knew that if he died +first I should not dare to endure long without him, because of the +greatness of my love. The grave, with him, would be fairer, than life +in a world where I might never see him with my eyes. Ah, lasting, +precious love! Is it then seemly that he should publish our counsel, +and destroy her who had done him no wrong? When I gave him my love +without grudging, I warned him plainly, and made covenant with him, +that he would lose me the self same hour that he made our tenderness a +song. Since part we must, I may not live after so bitter a sorrow; nor +would I choose to live, even if I were able. Fie upon life, it has no +savour in it. Since it pleases me naught, I pray to God to grant me +death, and--so truly as I have loved him who requites me thus--to have +mercy on my soul. I forgive him his wrong, and may God give honour and +life to him who has betrayed and delivered me to death. Since it +comes from his hand, death, meseems, is no bitter potion; and when I +remember his love, to die for his sake is no grievous thing." + +When the chatelaine had thus spoken she kept silence, save only that +she said in sighing, + +"Sweet friend, I commend you to God." + +With these words she strained her arms tightly across her breast, the +heart failed her, and her face lost its fair colour. She swooned in +her anguish, and lay back, pale and discoloured in the middle of the +bed, without life or breath. + +Of this her friend knew nothing, for he sought his delight in the +hall, at carol and dance and play. But amongst all those ladies he had +no pleasure in any that he saw, since he might not perceive her to +whom his heart was given, and much he marvelled thereat. He took the +Duke apart, and said in his ear, + +"Sire, whence is this that your niece tarries so long, and comes not +to the dancing? Have you put her in prison?" + +The Duke looked upon the dancers, for he had not concerned himself +with the revels. He took his friend by the hand, and led him directly +to his wife's chamber. When he might not find her there he bade the +knight seek her boldly in the tiring chamber; and this he did of his +courtesy that these two lovers might solace themselves with clasp and +kiss. The knight thanked his lord sweetly, and entered softly in the +chamber, where his friend lay dark and discoloured upon the bed. Time +and place being met together, he took her in his arms and touched her +lips. But when he found how cold was her mouth, how pale and rigid her +person, he knew by the semblance of all her body that she was quite +dead. In his amazement he cried out swiftly, + +"What is this? Alas, is my dear one dead?" + +The maiden started from the foot of the bed where she still lay, +making answer, + +"Sir, I deem truly that she be dead. Since she came to this room +she has done nothing but call upon death, by reason of her friend's +falsehood, whereof my lady assured her, and because of a little dog, +whereof my lady made her jest. This sorrow brought her to her death." + +When the knight understood from this that the words he had spoken to +the Duke had slain his friend, he was discomforted beyond measure. + +"Alas," said he, "sweet love, the most gracious and the best that ever +knight had, loyal and true, how have I slain you, like the faithless +traitor that I am! It were only just that I should receive the wages +for my deed, so that you could have gone free of blame. But you were +so faithful of heart that you took it on yourself to pay the price. +Then I will do justice on myself for the treason I have wrought." + +The knight drew from its sheath a sword that was hanging from the +wall, and thrust it throught his heart. He pained himself to fall +upon his lady's body; and because of the mightiness of his hurt, bled +swiftly to death. The maiden fled forth from the chamber, when she +marked these lifeless lovers, for she was all adread at what she saw. +She lighted on the Duke, and told him all that she had heard and seen, +keeping back nothing. She showed him the beginning of the matter, and +also of the little dog, whereof the Duchess had spoken. + +Hearken all to what befell. The Duke went straightway to the tiring +chamber, and drew from out the wound that sword by which the knight +lay slain. He said no word, but hastened forthwith to the hall where +the guests were yet at their dancing. Entering there he acquitted +himself of his promise, for he smote the Duchess on the head with the +naked sword he carried in his hand. He struck the blow without one +word, since his wrath was too deep for speech. The Duchess fell at his +feet, in the sight of the barons of his realm, whereat the feast was +sorely troubled, for in place of mirth and carol, now were blood and +death. Then the Duke told loudly and swiftly, before all who cared to +hear, this pitiful story, in the midst of his Court. There was not one +but wept, and his tears were the more piteous when he beheld those two +lovers who lay dead in the chamber, and the Duchess in her hall. So +the Court broke up in dole and anger, for of this deed came mighty +mischief. On the morrow the Duke caused the lovers to be laid in one +tomb, and the Duchess in a place apart. But of this adventure the Duke +had such bitterness that never was he known to laugh again. He took +the Cross, and went beyond the sea, where joining himself to the +Knights Templar, he never returned to his own realm. + +Ah, God! all this mischief and encumbrance chanced to the knight by +reason of his making plain that he should have hid, and of publishing +what his friend forbade him to speak, if he would keep her love. From +this ensample we may learn that it is not seemly to love, and tell. He +who blabs and blazons his friendship gets not one kiss the more; but +he who goes discreetly preserves life and love and fame. For the +friendship of the discreet lover falls not before the mine of such +false and felon pryers as burrow privily into their neighbour's secret +love. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of French Mediaeval Romances from the +Lays of Marie de France, by Marie de France + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FRENCH MEDIAEVAL ROMANCES *** + +***** This file should be named 11417-8.txt or 11417-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/1/4/1/11417/ + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Bradley Norton and PG Distributed +Proofreaders + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Dutton and Co. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + <!-- + * { font-family: Times;} + P { text-indent: 1em; + margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; } + HR { width: 33%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em;} + BODY{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%;} + .linenum {position: absolute; top: auto; left: 4%;} /* poetry number */ + .note {margin-left: 2em; margin-right: 2em; margin-bottom: 1em;} /* block indent */ + .pagenum {position: absolute; left: 92%; right: 100%; font-size: 8pt; justify: right;} /* page numbers */ + // --> + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of French Mediaeval Romances from the Lays of +Marie de France, by Marie de France + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: French Mediaeval Romances from the Lays of Marie de France + +Author: Marie de France + +Release Date: March 3, 2004 [EBook #11417] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FRENCH MEDIAEVAL ROMANCES *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Bradley Norton and PG Distributed +Proofreaders + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<h1>FRENCH</h1> +<h1>MEDIAEVAL</h1> +<h1>ROMANCES</h1> + +<h2>From the Lays of Marie de France</h2> + +<h3>Translated by</h3> +<h3>Eugene Mason</h3> + +<h3>1911</h3> + +<br> +<p><a href="#CONTENTS"><b>CONTENTS</b></a><br> +<p>INTRODUCTION</p> +<br> + +<p>The tales included in this little book of translations are derived +mainly from the "Lays" of Marie de France. I do not profess +them to be a complete collection of her stories in verse. +The ascription varies. Poems which were included in her +work but yesterday are withdrawn to-day, and new matter +suggested by scholars to take the place of the old. I believe +it to be, however, a far fuller version of Marie's "Lays" +than has yet appeared, to my knowledge, in English. Marie's +poems are concerned chiefly with love. To complete my book +I have added two famous mediaeval stories on the same +excellent theme. This, then, may be regarded as a volume +of French romances, dealing, generally, with one aspect of +mediaeval life.</p> + +<p>An age so feminist in its sympathies as ours should be +attracted the more easily to Marie de France, because she was +both an artist and a woman. To deliver oneself through any +medium is always difficult. For a woman of the Middle +Ages to express herself publicly by any means whatever was +almost impossible. A great lady, a great Saint or church-woman, +might do so very occasionally. But the individuality +of the ordinary wife was merged in that of her husband, and +for one Abbess of Shrewsbury or Whitby, for one St. Clare or +St. Hilda, there were how many thousand obscure sisters, +who were buried in the daily routine of a life hidden with +Christ in God! Doubtless the artistic temperament burst +out now and again in woman, and would take no denial. +It blew where it listed, appearing in the most unexpected +places. A young nun in a Saxon convent, for instance, +would write little dramas in Latin for the amusement and +edification of the noble maidens under her charge. These +comedies, written in the days of the Emperor Otho, can be +read with pleasure in the reign of King George, by those who +find fragrant the perfumes of the past. They deal with the +pious legends of the Saints, and are regarded with wistful +admiration by the most modern of Parisian playwrights. In +their combination of audacity and simplicity they could only +be performed by Saxon religious in the times of Otho, or by +marionettes in the more self-conscious life of to-day. Or, +again, an Abbess, the protagonist of one of the great love +stories of the world, by sheer force of personality, would +compose letters to one—how immeasurably her moral inferior, +in spite of his genius—expressing with an unexampled +poignancy the most passionate emotions of the heart. Or, to +take my third illustration, here are a woman's poems written +in an age when literature was almost entirely in the hands of +men. Consider the strength of character which alone induced +these three ladies to stray from the beaten paths of +their sex. To the average woman it was enough to be an +object of art herself, or to be the inspiration of masterpieces +by man. But these three women of the Middle Ages—and +such as they—shunned the easier way, and, in their several +spheres, were by deliberate effort, self-conscious artists.</p> + +<p>The place and date of birth of Marie de France are unknown—indeed +the very century in which she lived has been +a matter of dispute. Her poems are written in the French of +northern France; but that does not prove her necessarily to +be a Frenchwoman. French was the tongue of the English +Court, and many Englishmen have written in the same +language. Indeed, it is a very excellent vehicle for expression. +Occasionally, Marie would insert English words in her French +text, the better to convey her meaning; but it does not follow +therefrom that the romances were composed in England. It +seems strange that so few positive indications of her race and +home are given in her poems—nothing is contained beyond +her Christian name and the bare statement that she was of +France. She took great pride in her work, which she wrought +to the best of her ability, and was extremely jealous of that +bubble-reputation. Yet whilst this work was an excellent +piece of self-portraiture, it reveals not one single fact or date +on which to go. A consensus of critical opinion presumes +that Marie was a subject of the English Crown, born in an +ancient town called Pitre, some three miles above Rouen, in +the Duchy of Normandy. This speculation is based largely +on the unwonted topographical accuracy of her description +of Pitre, given in "The Lay of the Two Lovers." Such +evidence, perhaps, is insufficient to obtain a judgment in a +Court of Law. The date when Marie lived was long a matter +of dispute. The Prologue to her "Lays" contains a +dedication to some unnamed King; whilst her "Fables" is +dedicated to a certain Count William. These facts prove her +to have been a person of position and repute. The King was +long supposed to be Henry the Third of England, and this +would suggest that she lived in the thirteenth century. An +early scholar, the Abbé de La Rue, in fact, said that this was +"undoubtedly" the case, giving cogent reasons in support of +his contention. But modern scholarship, in the person of +Gaston Paris, has decided that the King was Henry the +Second, of pious memory; the Count, William Longsword, +Earl of Salisbury, his natural son by Fair Rosamund; and +that Marie must be placed in the second half of the twelfth +century. This shows that scholarship is not an exact science, +and that such words as "doubtless" should not be employed +more than necessary. A certain Eastern philosopher, when +engaged in instructing the youth of his country, used always +to conclude his lectures with the unvarying formula, "But, +gentlemen, all that I have told you is probably wrong." +This sage was a wise man (not always the same thing), and +his example should be had in remembrance. It seems +possible (and one hesitates to use a stronger word) that the +"Lays" of Marie were actually written at the Court of +Henry of England. From political ambition the King was +married to Eleanor of Aquitaine, a lady of literary tastes, +who came from a family in which the patronage of singers +was a tradition. Her husband, too, had a pronounced liking +for literature. He was fond of books, and once paid a visit +to Glastonbury to visit King Arthur's tomb. These, perhaps, +are limited virtues, but Henry the Second had need of every +rag. It is somewhat difficult to recognise in that King of +the Prologue, "in whose heart all gracious things are +rooted," the actual King who murdered Becket; who turned +over picture-books at Mass, and never confessed or communicated. +It is yet more difficult to perceive "joy as his +handmaid" who, because of the loss of a favourite city, +threatened to revenge himself on God, by robbing Him of that +thing—<i>i.e.</i>, the soul—He desired most in him; and whose +very last words were an echo of Job's curse upon the day +that he was born. Marie's phrases may be regarded, perhaps, +as a courtly flourish, rather than as conveying truth +with mathematical precision. If not, we should be driven to +suggest an alternative to the favourite simile of lying like an +epitaph. But I think it unlikely that Marie suffered with a +morbidly sensitive conscience. There is little enough real +devotion to be met with in her "Lays"; and if her last +book—a translation from the Latin of the Purgatory of St. +Patrick—is on a subject she avoids in her earlier work, it +was written under the influence of some high prelate, and +may be regarded as a sign that she watched the shadows +cast by the western sun lengthening on the grass.</p> + +<p>Gaston Paris suggests 1175 as an approximate date for the composition of +the "Lays" of Marie de France. Their success was immediate and +unequivocal, as indeed was to be expected in the case of a lady situated +so fortunately at Court. We have proof of this in the testimony of Denis +Pyramus, the author who wrote a Life of St. Edmund the King, early in +the following century. He says, in that poem, "And also Dame Marie, who +turned into rhyme and made verses of 'Lays' which are not in the least +true. For these she is much praised, and her rhyme is loved everywhere; +for counts, barons, and knights greatly admire it, and hold it dear. And +they love her writing so much, and take such pleasure in it, that they +have it read, and often copied. These Lays are wont to please ladies, +who listen to them with delight, for they are after their own hearts." +It is no wonder that the lords and ladies of her century were so +enthralled by Marie's romances, for her success was thoroughly well +deserved. Even after seven hundred years her colours remain surprisingly +vivid, and if the tapestry is now a little worn and faded in places, we +still follow with interest the movements of the figures wrought so +graciously upon the arras. Of course her stories are not original; but +was any plot original at any period of the earth's history? This is not +only an old, but an iterative world. The source of Marie's inspiration +is perfectly clear, for she states it emphatically in quite a number of +her Lays. This adventure chanced in Brittany, and in remembrance thereof +the Bretons made a Lay, which I heard sung by the minstrel to the music +of his rote. Marie's part consisted in reshaping this ancient material +in her own rhythmic and coloured words. Scholars tell us that the +essence of her stories is of Celtic rather than of Breton origin. It may +be so; though to the lay mind this is not a matter of great importance +one way or the other; but it seems better to accept a person's definite +statement until it is proved to be false. The Breton or Celtic +imagination had peculiar qualities of dreaminess, and magic and mystery. +Marie's mind was not cast in a precisely similar mould. Occasionally she +is successful enough; but generally she gives the effect of building +with a substance the significance of which she does not completely +realise. She may be likened to a child playing with symbols which, in +the hand of the enchanter, would be of tremendous import. Her treatment +of Isoude, for example, in "The Lay of the Honeysuckle," is quite +perfect in tone, and, indeed, is a little masterpiece in its own +fashion. But her sketch of Guenevere in "The Lay of Sir Launfal" is of a +character that one does not recall with pleasure. To see how Arthur's +Queen might be treated, we have but to turn to the pages of a +contemporary, and learn from Chrestien de Troyes' "Knight of the Cart," +how an even more considerable poet than Marie could deal with a Celtic +legend. The fact is that Marie's romances derive farther back than any +Breton or Celtic dream. They were so old that they had blown like +thistledown about the four quarters of the world. Her princesses came +really neither from Wales nor Brittany. They were of that stuff from +which romance is shaped. "Her face was bright as the day of union; her +hair dark as the night of separation; and her mouth was magical as +Solomon's seal." You can parallel her "Lays" from folklore, from +classical story and antiquity. Father and son fight together unwittingly +in "The Lay of Milon"; but Rustum had striven with Sohrab long before in +far Persia, and Cuchulain with his child in Ireland. Such stories are +common property. The writer takes his own where he finds it. Marie is +none the less admirable because her stories were narrated by the first +man in Eden; neither are Boccaccio and the Countess D'Aulnoy blameworthy +since they told again what she already had related so well. Marie, +indeed, was an admirable narrator. That was one of her shining virtues. +As a piece of artful tale telling, a specimen of the craft of keeping a +situation in suspense, the arrival of the lady before Arthur's Court, in +"The Lay of Sir Launfal," requires a deal of beating. The justness and +fineness of her sentiment in all that concerns the delicacies of the +human heart are also remarkable. But her true business was that of the +storyteller. In that trade she was almost unapproachable in her day. +There may have been—indeed, there was—a more considerable poet living; +but a more excellent writer of romances, than the author of "Eliduc," it +would have been difficult to find.</p> + +<p>The ladies who found the "Lays" of Marie after their +own hearts were not only admirers of beautiful stories; they +had the delicate privilege also of admiring themselves in +their habit as they lived—perhaps even lovelier than in reality—amidst +their accustomed surroundings. The pleasure of a +modern reader in such tales as these is enhanced by the +light they throw on the household arrangements and customs +of the gentlefolk of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. It +may be of interest to consider some of these domestic +arrangements, as illustrated by stories included in the present +volume.</p> + +<p>The corporate life of a mediaeval household centered in +the hall. It was office and dining and billiard room, and +was common to gentle and simple alike. The hall was by +far the largest room in the house. It was lighted by +windows, and warmed by an open fire of logs. The smoke +drifted about the roof, escaping finally by the simple means +of a lantern placed immediately above the hearth. A beaten +floor was covered by rushes and fresh hay, or with rugs in +that part affected by the more important members of the +household. The lord himself and his wife sat in chairs upon +a raised daïs. The retainers were seated on benches around +the wall, and before them was spread the dining table—a +mere board upon trestles—which was removed when once +the meal was done. After supper, chess and draughts were +played, or (as we may see in "The Lay of the Thorn") +minstrels sang ballads and the guest contributed to the +general entertainment by the recital of such jests and +adventures as commended themselves to his taste. If the +hall may be considered as the dining room of the mediaeval +home, the garden might almost be looked upon as the +drawing room. You would probably get more real privacy +in the garden than in any other part of the crowded castle, +including the lady's chamber. It is no wonder that we read +of Guenevere taking Launfal aside for a little private conversation +in her pleasaunce. It was not only the most +private, but also the most delightful room in the house—ceiled +with blue and carpeted with green. The garden was +laid out elaborately with a perron and many raised seats. +Trees stood about the lawn in tubs, and there was generally +a fountain playing in the centre, or possibly a pond, stocked +with fish. Fruit trees and flower beds grew thickly about +the garden, and a pleasanter place of perfume and colour and +shade it would be difficult to imagine in the summer heat. +The third room of which we hear continually in these +romances is the lady's chamber. It served the purpose of a +boudoir as well as that of a sleeping room, and consequently +had little real privacy. It contained the marriage chest with +its store of linen, and also the bed. This bed recurs eternally +in mediæval tales. It was used as a seat during the day, +and as a resting-place of nights. It was a magnificent +erection, carved and gilded, and inlaid with ivory. Upon it +was placed a mattress of feathers, and a soft pillow. The +sheets were of linen or silk, and over all was spread a +coverlet of some precious material. An excellent description +of such a couch is given in "The Lay of Gugemar." This +chamber served also as a bath room, and there the bath was +taken, piping hot, in the strange vessel, fashioned somewhat +like a churn, that we see in pictures of the Middle Ages.</p> + +<p>Of the dress of the ladies who moved about the castle, +seeing themselves reflected from Marie's pages as in a +polished mirror, I am not competent to speak. The type of +beauty preferred by the old romancers was that of a child's +princess of fairy tale—blue-eyed, golden-haired, and ruddy +of cheek. The lady would wear a shift of linen, "white as +meadow flower." Over this was worn a garment of fur or +silk, according to the season; and, above all, a vividly +coloured gown, all in one line from neck to feet, shapen +closely to the figure, or else the more loosely fitting bliaut. +Her girdle clipped her closely about the waist, falling to the +hem of her skirt, and her feet were shod in soundless shoes, +without heels. The hair was arranged in two long braids, +brought forward over her shoulders; as worn by those +smiling Queens wrought upon the western porch of Chartres +Cathedral. Out of doors, and, indeed, frequently within, as +may be proved by a reference to "The Lay of the Ash Tree," +the lady was clad in a mantle and a hood. It must have +taken a great deal of time and travail to appear so dainty a +production. But to become poetry for others, it is necessary +for a woman first to be prose to herself.</p> + +<p>I am afraid the raw material of this radiant divinity had +much to endure before she suffered her sea change. In +mediaeval illustrations we see the maiden sitting demurely +in company, with downcast eyes, and hands folded modestly +in her lap. This unnatural restraint was induced by the +lavish compulsion of the rod. If there was one text, above +all others, approved and acted upon by fathers and mothers +of the Middle Ages, it was that exhorting parents not to +cocker their child, neither to wink at his follies, but to beat +him on the sides with a stick. Turn to "The Lay of the +Thorn," and mark the gusto with which a mother disciplines +her maid. Parents trained their children with blows. +Husbands (ah, the audacity of the mediaeval husband) +scattered the like seeds of kindness on their wives. In a +book written for the edification of his unmarried daughters, +Chaucer's contemporary, the Knight of La Tour Landry, +tells the following interesting anecdote. A man had a +scolding wife, who railed ungovernably upon him before +strangers, "and he that was angry of her governance smote +her with his first down to the earth; and then with his foot +he struck her on the visage, and broke her nose; and all her +life after that she had her nose crooked, the which shent and +disfigured her visage after, that she might not for shame +show her visage, it was so foul blemished. And this she +had for her evil and great language that she was wont to say +to her husband. And therefore the wife ought to suffer, and +let the husband have the words, and to be master." May +I give yet another illustration before we pass from the +subject. This time it is taken not from a French knight, +but from a sermon of the great Italian preacher, St. +Bernardino of Siena. "There are men who can bear more +patiently with a hen that lays a fresh egg every day than +with their own wives; and sometimes when the hen breaks +a pipkin or a cup he will spare it a beating, simply for love +of the fresh egg which he is unwilling to lose. Oh, raving +madmen! who cannot bear a word from their own wives, +though they bear them such fair fruit; but when the woman +speaks a word more than they like, then they catch up a +stick, and begin to cudgel her; while the hen that cackles +all day, and gives you no rest, you take patience with her +for the sake of her miserable egg—and sometimes she will +break more in your house than she herself is worth, yet +you bear it in patience for the egg's sake. Many fidgetty +fellows, who sometimes see their wives turn out less neat +and dainty than they would like, smite them forthwith; and +meanwhile the hen may make a mess on the table, and you +suffer her. Have patience; it is not right to beat your wife +for every cause, no!"</p> + +<p>At the commencement of this Introduction I stated that +Marie's romances are concerned mainly with love. Her +talent was not very wide nor rich, and I have no doubt that +there were facets of her personality which she was unable +to get upon paper. The prettiest girl in the world can only +give what she has to give. By the time any reader reaches +the end of this volume he will be assured that the stories are +stories of love. Probably he will have noticed also that, in +many cases, the lady who inspires the most delicate of +sentiments is, incidentally, a married woman. He may ask +why this was so; and in answer I propose to conclude my +paper with a few observations upon the subject of mediaeval +love.</p> + +<p>I doubt in my own mind whether romance writers do not +exaggerate what was certainly a characteristic of the Middle +Ages. To be ordinary is to be uninteresting; and it is +obvious that the stranger the experience, the more likely is +it to attract the interest and attention of the hearer. Blessed +is the person—as well as the country—who has no history. +But it was really very difficult for the twelfth century poet +to write a love story, with a maiden as the central figure. +The noble maiden seldom had a love story. It is true enough +that she was sometimes referred to in the choice of her +husband: two young ladies in "A Story of Beyond the +Sea" are both consulted in the matter. As a rule, however, +her inclination was not permitted to stand in the way of the +interests of her parents or guardians. She was betrothed +in childhood, and married very young, for mercenary or +political reasons, to a husband much older than herself. We +read of a girl of twelve being married to a man of fifty. +There was no great opportunity for a love story here; and +the strange entreaty, on the part of the nameless French +poet, to love the maidens for the sake of Christ's love, +passed over the heads of the romance writers. Not that the +mediæval maidens showed any shrinking from matrimony. +"Fair daughter, I have given you a husband." "Blessed +be God," said the damsel. There spoke a contented spirit. +Things have changed, and we can but sigh after the good +old times.</p> + +<p>But the maiden inevitably became the wife, and the +whirligig of Time brought in his revenges. The lady now +found herself the most important member of her sex, in a +dwelling filled with men. She had few women about her +person, and the confidant of a great dame in old romance +is, frequently enough, her chamberlain. These young men +had no chance of marriage, and naturally strove to gain the +attention of a lady, whose favour was to them so important +a matter. A mediæval knight was the sworn champion of +God and the ladies—but more especially the latter. The +chatelaine, herself, found time hang heavily on her hands. +Amusements were few; books limited in number; a husband +not of absorbing interest; so she turned to such distractions +as presented themselves. The prettier a lady, the sweeter +the incense and flattery swung beneath her nose; for this +was one of the disadvantages of marrying an attractive +woman. "It is hard to keep a wife whom everyone admires; +and if no one admires her it is hard to have to live with her +yourself." One of these distractions took the shape of +Courts of Love, where the bored but literary chatelaine +discussed delicate problems of conduct pertaining to the +heart. The minstrel about the lady's castle, for his part, +sought her favourable notice not only by his songs but also +by giving an object lesson of his melancholy condition. One +would imagine that his proceedings were not always +calculated to further their purpose. A famous singer, for +instance, in honour of a lady who was named Lupa, caused +himself to be sewn in a wolf's skin, and ran before the +hounds till he was pulled down, half dead. Another great +minstrel and lover bought a leper's gown and bowl and +clapper from some afflicted wretch. He mutilated his forefinger, +and sat before his lady's door, in the company of a +piteous crowd of sick and maimed, to await her alms. No +doubt he trusted that his devotion would procure him a +different kind of charity. From such discussions as these, +and from conduct such as this, a type of love came into being +which was peculiar to the period. Since the lovers were +not bound in the sweet and common union of children and +home, since on the side of the lady all was of grace and +nought of debt, they searched out other bands to unite them +together. These they found in a system of devotion, silence +and faithfulness, which added a dignity to their relations. +These virtues they took so seriously that we find the +Chatelaine of Vergi dying because she believed her lover to +have betrayed her trust. The mediaeval romancer contemplated +such unions with joy and pity; but for all their +virtues we must not deceive ourselves with words. Such +honour was rooted in dishonour, and the measure of their +guilt was that they debased the moral currency. Presently the +greatest of all the poets of the Middle Ages would arise, to teach +a different fashion of devotion. His was a love that sought no +communion with its object, neither speech nor embrace. It +was sufficient for Dante to contemplate Beatrice from afar, +as one might kneel before the picture of a saint. I do not +say that a love like this—so spiritual and so aloof—will ever +be possible to men. It did not suffice even to Dante, for all +his tremendous moral muscle. Human love must always +and inevitably be founded on a physical basis. But the +burning drop of idealism that Dante contributed to the +passion of the Middle Ages has made possible the love of +which we now and again catch a glimpse in the union of +select natures. And that the seed of such flowering may be +carried about the world is one of the fairest hopes and +possibilities of the human race.</p> + +<p>EUGENE MASON.</p> + +<p>The originals of these narratives are to be found in +Roquefort's edition of the Poésies de Marie de France; in a +volume of the Nouvelles Françoises en Prose, edited by +Moland and D'Héricault; and in M. Gaston Raynaud's text +of La Chatelaine de Vergi.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CONTENTS"></a><h2>CONTENTS</h2> +<br> + + +<p>INTRODUCTION</p> + +<p><a href="#I"><b>I</b></a>. PROLOGUE BY WAY OF DEDICATION</p> + +<p><a href="#II"><b>II</b></a>. THE LAY OF GUGEMAR</p> + +<p><a href="#III"><b>III</b></a>. THE LAY OF THE DOLOROUS KNIGHT</p> + +<p><a href="#IV"><b>IV</b></a>. THE LAY OF ELIDUC</p> + +<p><a href="#V"><b>V.</b></a>. THE LAY OF THE NIGHTINGALE</p> + +<p><a href="#VI"><b>VI</b></a>. THE LAY OF SIR LAUNFAL</p> + +<p><a href="#VII"><b>VII</b></a>. THE LAY OF THE TWO LOVERS</p> + +<p><a href="#VIII"><b>VIII</b></a>. THE LAY OF THE WERE-WOLF</p> + +<p><a href="#IX"><b>IX</b></a>. THE LAY OF THE ASH TREE</p> + +<p><a href="#X"><b>X</b></a>. THE LAY OF THE HONEYSUCKLE</p> + +<p><a href="#XI"><b>XI</b></a>. THE LAY OF EQUITAN</p> + +<p><a href="#XII"><b>XII</b></a>. THE LAY OF MILON</p> + +<p><a href="#XIII"><b>XIII</b></a>. THE LAY OF YONEC</p> + +<p><a href="#XIV"><b>XIV</b></a>. THE LAY OF THE THORN</p> + +<p><a href="#XV"><b>XV</b></a>. THE LAY OF GRAELENT</p> + +<p><a href="#XVI"><b>XVI</b></a>. A STORY OF BEYOND THE SEA</p> + +<p><a href="#XVII"><b>XVII</b></a>. THE CHATELAINE OF VERGI</p> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="I"></a><h2>I</h2> +<br> + +<p>PROLOGUE</p> + +<p>BY WAY OF DEDICATION</p> + +<p>Those to whom God has given the gift of comely speech, +should not hide their light beneath a bushel, but should +willingly show it abroad. If a great truth is proclaimed +in the ears of men, it brings forth fruit a hundred-fold; +but when the sweetness of the telling is praised of many, +flowers mingle with the fruit upon the branch.</p> + +<p>According to the witness of Priscian, it was the custom +of ancient writers to express obscurely some portions +of their books, so that those who came after might +study with greater diligence to find the thought within +their words. The philosophers knew this well, and were +the more unwearied in labour, the more subtle in distinctions, +so that the truth might make them free. +They were persuaded that he who would keep himself +unspotted from the world should search for knowledge, +that he might understand. To set evil from me, and to +put away my grief, I purposed to commence a book. +I considered within myself what fair story in the Latin +or Romance I could turn into the common tongue. +But I found that all the stories had been written, and +scarcely it seemed the worth my doing, what so many +had already done. Then I called to mind those Lays +I had so often heard. I doubted nothing—for well I +know—that our fathers fashioned them, that men +should bear in remembrance the deeds of those who +have gone before. Many a one, on many a day, the +minstrel has chanted to my ear. I would not that they +should perish, forgotten, by the roadside. In my turn, +therefore, I have made of them a song, rhymed as well +as I am able, and often has their shaping kept me sleepless +in my bed.</p> + +<p>In your honour, most noble and courteous King, to +whom joy is a handmaid, and in whose heart all gracious +things are rooted, I have brought together these Lays, +and told my tales in seemly rhyme. Ere they speak +for me, let me speak with my own mouth, and say, +"Sire, I offer you these verses. If you are pleased to +receive them, the fairer happiness will be mine, and the +more lightly I shall go all the days of my life. Do not +deem that I think more highly of myself than I ought +to think, since I presume to proffer this, my gift." +Hearken now to the commencement of the matter.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="II"></a><h2>II</h2> +<br> + +<p>THE LAY OF GUGEMAR</p> + +<p>Hearken, oh gentles, to the words of Marie. When +the minstrel tells his tale, let the folk about the fire heed +him willingly. For his part the singer must be wary +not to spoil good music with unseemly words. Listen, +oh lordlings, to the words of Marie, for she pains herself +grievously not to forget this thing. The craft is hard—then +approve the more sweetly him who carols the tune. +But this is the way of the world, that when a man or +woman sings more tunably than his fellows, those about +the fire fall upon him, pell-mell, for reason of their +envy. They rehearse diligently the faults of his song, +and steal away his praise with evil words. I will brand +these folk as they deserve. They, and such as they, are +like mad dogs—cowardly and felon—who traitorously +bring to death men better than themselves. Now let the +japer, and the smiler with his knife, do me what harm +they may. Verily they are in their right to speak ill of +me.</p> + +<p>Hearken, oh gentles, to the tale I set before you, for +thereof the Bretons already have made a Lay. I will +not do it harm by many words, and here is the commencement +of the matter. According to text and +scripture, now I relate a certain adventure, which +bechanced in the realm of Brittany, in days long gone +before.</p> + +<p>In that time when Arthur maintained his realm, the +now in peace, the now in war, the King counted amongst +his vassals a certain baron, named Oridial. This +knight was lord of Leon, and was very near to his +prince's heart, both in council chamber and in field. +From his wife he had gotten two children, the one a son +and the other a fair daughter. Nogent, he had called +the damsel at the font, and the dansellon was named +Gugemar—no goodlier might be found in any realm. +His mother had set all her love upon the lad, and his +father shewed him every good that he was able. When +the varlet was no more a child, Oridial sent him to +the King, to be trained as a page in the courtesies of +the Court. Right serviceable was he in his station, and +meetly praised of all. The term of his service having +come, and he being found of fitting years and knowledge, +the King made him knight with his own hand, and +armed him in rich harness, according to his wish. So +Gugemar gave gifts to all those about his person, and +bidding farewell, took leave, and departed from the Court. +Gugemar went his way to Flanders, being desirous of advancement, +for in that kingdom ever they have strife +and war. Neither in Loraine nor Burgundy, Anjou nor +Gascony, might be found in that day a better knight +than he, no, nor one his peer. He had but one fault, +since of love he took no care. There was neither dame +nor maiden beneath the sky, however dainty and kind, +to whom he gave thought or heed, though had he +required her love of any damsel, very willingly would she +have granted his desire. Many there were who prayed him +for his love, but might have no kiss in return. So seeing +that he refrained his heart in this fashion, men deemed +him a strange man, and one fallen into a perilous case.</p> + +<p>In the flower of his deeds the good knight returned +to his own land, that he might see again his father +and lord, his mother and his sister, even as he very +tenderly desired. He lodged with them for the space +of a long month, and at the end of that time had envy +to hunt within the wood. The night being come, +Gugemar summoned his prickers and his squires, and +early in the morning rode within the forest. Great +pleasure had Gugemar in the woodland, and much he +delighted in the chase. A tall stag was presently started, +and the hounds being uncoupled, all hastened in pursuit—the +huntsmen before, and the good knight following +after, winding upon his horn. Gugemar rode at a great +pace after the quarry, a varlet riding beside, bearing his +bow, his arrows and his spear. He followed so hotly +that he over-passed the chase. Gazing about him +he marked, within a thicket, a doe hiding with her +fawn. Very white and wonderful was this beast, for she +was without spot, and bore antlers upon her head. The +hounds bayed about her, but might not pull her down. +Gugemar bent his bow, and loosed a shaft at the quarry. +He wounded the deer a little above the hoof, so that +presently she fell upon her side. But the arrow glanced +away, and returning upon itself, struck Gugemar +in the thigh, so grievously, that straightway he fell from +his horse upon the ground. Gugemar lay upon the grass, +beside the deer which he had wounded to his hurt. +He heard her sighs and groans, and perceived the +bitterness of her pity. Then with mortal speech the doe +spake to the wounded man in such fashion as this, +"Alas, my sorrow, for now am I slain. But thou, +Vassal, who hast done me this great wrong, do not think +to hide from the vengeance of thy destiny. Never may +surgeon and his medicine heal your hurt. Neither herb +nor root nor potion can ever cure the wound within your +flesh: For that there is no healing. The only balm to +close that sore must be brought by a woman, who for her +love will suffer such pain and sorrow as no woman +in the world has endured before. And to the dolorous +lady, dolorous knight. For your part you shall do and +suffer so great things for her, that not a lover beneath +the sun, or lovers who are dead, or lovers who yet shall +have their day, but shall marvel at the tale. Now, go +from hence, and let me die in peace."</p> + +<p>Gugemar was wounded twice over—by the arrow, and +by the words he was dismayed to hear. He considered +within himself to what land he must go to find this +healing for his hurt, for he was yet too young to die. He +saw clearly, and told it to his heart, that there was no +lady in his life to whom he could run for pity, and +be made whole of his wound. He called his varlet +before him,</p> + +<p>"Friend," said he, "go forthwith, and bring my comrades +to this place, for I have to speak with them."</p> + +<p>The varlet went upon his errand, leaving his master +sick with the heat and fever of his hurt. When he was +gone, Gugemar tore the hem from his shirt, and bound +it straitly about his wound. He climbed painfully +upon the saddle, and departed without more ado, for he +was with child to be gone before any could come to stay +him from his purpose. A green path led through +the deep forest to the plain, and his way across the +plain brought him to a cliff, exceeding high, and to the sea. +Gugemar looked upon the water, which was very still, for +this fair harbourage was land-locked from the main. +Upon this harbour lay one only vessel, bearing a rich +pavilion of silk, daintily furnished both without and +within, and well it seemed to Gugemar that he had seen +this ship before. Beneath the sky was no ship so rich +or precious, for there was not a sail but was spun of silk, +and not a plank, from keel to mast, but showed of ebony. +Too fair was the nave for mortal man, and Gugemar held +it in sore displeasure. He marvelled greatly from +what country it had come, and wondered long concerning +this harbour, and the ship that lay therein. Gugemar +got him down from his horse upon the shore, and with +mighty pain and labour climbed within the ship. He +trusted to find merchantmen and sailors therein, but +there was none to guard, and none he saw. Now within +the pavilion was a very rich bed, carved by cunning +workmen in the days of King Solomon. This fair bed +was wrought of cypress wood and white ivory, adorned +with gold and gems most precious. Right sweet were the +linen cloths upon the bed, and so soft the pillow, that +he who lay thereon would sleep, were he sadder than any +other in the world. The counterpane was of purple from +the vats of Alexandria, and over all was set a right fair +coverlet of cloth of gold. The pavilion was litten by two +great waxen torches, placed in candlesticks of fine gold, +decked with jewels worth a lord's ransom. So the +wounded knight looked on ship and pavilion, bed and +candle, and marvelled greatly. Gugemar sat him down +upon the bed for a little, because of the anguish of his +wound. After he had rested a space he got upon his feet, +that he might quit the vessel, but he found that for him +there was no return. A gentle wind had filled the +sails, and already he was in the open sea. When +Gugemar saw that he was far from land, he was very +heavy and sorrowful. He knew not what to do, by +reason of the mightiness of his hurt. But he must +endure the adventure as best he was able; so he prayed +to God to take him in His keeping, and in His good pleasure +to bring him safe to port, and deliver him from the peril of +death. Then climbing upon the couch, he laid his +head upon the pillow, and slept as one dead, until, with +vespers, the ship drew to that haven where he might find +the healing for his hurt.</p> + +<p>Gugemar had come to an ancient city, where the +King of that realm held his court and state. This King +was full of years, and was wedded to a dame of high +degree. The lady was of tender age, passing fresh +and fair, and sweet of speech to all. Therefore was the +King jealous of his wife beyond all measure. Such is the +wont of age, for much it fears that old and young cannot +mate together, and that youth will turn to youth. This +is the death in life of the old.</p> + +<p>The castle of this ancient lord had a mighty keep. +Beneath this tower was a right fair orchard, together +with a close, shut in by a wall of green marble, very +strong and high. This wall had one only gate, and the +door was watched of warders, both night and day. On +the other side of this garden was the sea, so that none +might do his errand in the castle therefrom, save in a +boat. To hold his dame in the greater surety, the +King had built a bower within the wall; there was no +fairer chamber beneath the sun. The first room was +the Queen's chapel. Beyond this was the lady's bedchamber, +painted all over with shapes and colours +most wonderful to behold. On one wall might be seen +Dame Venus, the goddess of Love, sweetly flushed as +when she walked the water, lovely as life, teaching men +how they should bear them in loyal service to their +lady. On another wall, the goddess threw Ovid's book +within a fire of coals. A scroll issuing from her lips +proclaimed that those who read therein, and strove to +ease them of their pains, would find from her neither +service nor favour. In this chamber the lady was put +in ward, and with her a certain maiden to hold her +company. This damsel was her niece, since she was her +sister's child, and there was great love betwixt the twain. +When the Queen walked within the garden, or went +abroad, this maiden was ever by her side, and came +again with her to the house. Save this damsel, neither +man nor woman entered in the bower, nor issued forth +from out the wall. One only man possessed the key of +the postern, an aged priest, very white and frail. This +priest recited the service of God within the chapel, and +served the Queen's plate and cup when she ate meat +at table.</p> + +<p>Now, on a day, the Queen had fallen asleep after meat, +and on her awaking would walk a little in the garden. +She called her companion to her, and the two went +forth to be glad amongst the flowers. As they looked +across the sea they marked a ship drawing near the land, +rising and falling upon the waves. Very fearful was the +Queen thereat, for the vessel came to anchorage, though +there was no helmsman to direct her course. The dame's +face became sanguine for dread, and she turned her +about to flee, because of her exceeding fear. Her maiden, +who was of more courage than she, stayed her mistress +with many comforting words. For her part she was very +desirous to know what this thing meant. She hastened +to the shore, and laying aside her mantle, climbed +within this wondrous vessel. Thereon she found no +living soul, save only the knight sleeping fast within +the pavilion. The damsel looked long upon the knight, +for pale he was as wax, and well she deemed him dead. +She returned forthwith to the Queen, and told her of +this marvel, and of the good knight who was slain.</p> + +<p>"Let us go together on the ship," replied the lady. +"If he be dead we may give him fitting burial, and the +priest shall pray meetly for his soul. Should he be yet +alive perchance he will speak, and tell us of his case."</p> + +<p>Without more tarrying the two damsels mounted +on the ship, the lady before, and her maiden following +after. When the Queen entered in the pavilion she +stayed her feet before the bed, for joy and grief of what +she saw. She might not refrain her eyes from gazing +on the knight, for her heart was ravished with his beauty, +and she sorrowed beyond measure, because of his grievous +hurt. To herself she said, "In a bad hour cometh the +goodly youth." She drew near the bed, and placing +her hand upon his breast, found that the flesh was warm, +and that the heart beat strongly in his side. Gugemar +awoke at the touch, and saluted the dame as sweetly +as he was able, for well he knew that he had come to +a Christian land. The lady, full of thought, returned +him his salutation right courteously, though the tears +were yet in her eyes. Straightway she asked of him +from what realm he came, and of what people, and in +what war he had taken his hurt.</p> + +<p>"Lady," answered Gugemar, "in no battle I received +this wound. If it pleases you to hear my tale I will +tell you the truth, and in nothing will I lie. I am a +knight of Little Brittany. Yesterday I chased a wonderful +white deer within the forest. The shaft with which +I struck her to my hurt, returned again on me, +and caused this wound upon my thigh, which may never +be searched, nor made whole. For this wondrous +Beast raised her plaint in a mortal tongue. She cursed +me loudly, with many evil words, swearing that never +might this sore be healed, save by one only damsel in +the world, and her I know not where to find. When I +heard my luckless fate I left the wood with what speed +I might, and coming to a harbour, not far from thence, +I lighted on this ship. For my sins I climbed therein. +Then without oars or helm this boat ravished me from +shore; so that I know not where I have come, nor +what is the name of this city. Fair lady, for God's love, +counsel me of your good grace, for I know not where to +turn, nor how to govern the ship."</p> + +<p>The lady made answer, +"Fair sir, willingly shall I give you such good counsel +as I may. This realm and city are the appanage of my +husband. He is a right rich lord, of high lineage, but +old and very full of years. Also he is jealous beyond +all measure; therefore it is that I see you now. By +reason of his jealousy he has shut me fast between +high walls, entered by one narrow door, with an ancient +priest to keep the key. May God requite him for his +deed. Night and day I am guarded in this prison, +from whence I may never go forth, without the knowledge +of my lord. Here are my chamber and my chapel, and +here I live, with this, my maiden, to bear me company. +If it pleases you to dwell here for a little, till you may +pass upon your way, right gladly we shall receive you, +and with a good heart we will tend your wound, till +you are healed."</p> + +<p>When Gugemar heard this speech he rejoiced greatly. +He thanked the lady with many sweet words, and +consented to sojourn in her hall awhile. He raised himself +upon his couch, and by the courtesy of the damsels left +the ship. Leaning heavily upon the lady, at the end +he won to her maiden's chamber, where there was a +fair bed covered with a rich dossal of broidered silk, +edged with fur. When he was entered in this bed, the +damsels came bearing clear water in basins of gold, +for the cleansing of his hurt. They stanched the blood +with a towel of fine linen, and bound the wound strictly, +to his exceeding comfort. So after the vesper meal was +eaten, the lady departed to her own chamber, leaving +the knight in much ease and content.</p> + +<p>Now Gugemar set his love so fondly upon the lady +that he forgot his father's house. He thought no more +of the anguish of his hurt, because of another wound +that was beneath his breast. He tossed and sighed in +his unrest, and prayed the maiden of his service to depart, +so that he might sleep a little. When the maid was gone, +Gugemar considered within himself whether he might +seek the dame, to know whether her heart was warmed +by any ember of the flame that burned in his. He turned +it this way and that, and knew not what to do. This +only was clear, that if the lady refused to search his +wound, death, for him, was sure and speedy.</p> + +<p>"Alas," said he, "what shall I do! Shall I go to my +lady, and pray her pity on the wretch who has none +to give him counsel? If she refuse my prayer, because +of her hardness and pride, I shall know there is nought +for me but to die in my sorrow, or, at least, to go heavily +all the days of my life."</p> + +<p>Then he sighed, and in his sighing lighted on a better +purpose; for he said within himself that doubtless +he was born to suffer, and that the best of him was tears. +All the long night he spent in vigil and groanings and +watchfulness. To himself he told over her words and +her semblance. He remembered the eyes and the fair +mouth of his lady, and all the grace and the sweetness, +which had struck like a knife at his heart. Between +his teeth he cried on her for pity, and for a little more +would have called her to his side. Ah, had he but +known the fever of the lady, and how terrible a lord +to her was Love, how great had been his joy and solace. +His visage would have been the more sanguine, which +was now so pale of colour, because of the dolour that +was his. But if the knight was sick by reason of his +love, the dame had small cause to boast herself of +health. The lady rose early from her bed, since she +might not sleep. She complained of her unrest, and of +Love who rode her so hardly. The maiden, who was +of her company, saw clearly enough that all her lady's +thoughts were set upon the knight, who, for his healing, +sojourned in the chamber. She did not know whether his +thoughts were given again to the dame. When, therefore, +the lady had entered in the chapel, the damsel went +straightway to the knight. He welcomed her gladly, +and bade her be seated near the bed. Then he inquired, +"Friend, where now is my lady, and why did she +rise so early from her bed?"</p> + +<p>Having spoken so far, he became silent, and sighed.</p> + +<p>"Sir," replied the maiden softly, "you love, and are +discreet, but be not too discreet therein. In such a +love as yours there is nothing to be ashamed. He who +may win my lady's favour has every reason to be proud +of his fortune. Altogether seemly would be your +friendship, for you are young, and she is fair."</p> + +<p>The knight made answer to the maiden, +"I am so fast in the snare, that I pray the fowler +to slay me, if she may not free me from the net. Counsel +me, fair sweet friend, if I may hope of kindness at her +hand."</p> + +<p>Then the maiden of her sweetness comforted the knight, +and assured him of all the good that she was able. So +courteous and debonair was the maid.</p> + +<p>When the lady had heard Mass, she hastened back +to the chamber. She had not forgotten her friend, +and greatly she desired to know whether he was awake +or asleep, of whom her heart was fain. She bade her +maiden to summon him to her chamber, for she had a +certain thing in her heart to show him at leisure, were +it for the joy or the sorrow of their days.</p> + +<p>Gugemar saluted the lady, and the dame returned +the knight his courtesy, but their hearts were too +fearful for speech. The knight dared ask nothing of +his lady, for reason that he was a stranger in a strange +land, and was adread to show her his love. But—as +says the proverb—he who will not tell of his sore, may +not hope for balm to his hurt. Love is a privy wound +within the heart, and none knoweth of that bitterness +but the heart alone. Love is an evil which may last +for a whole life long, because of man and his constant +heart. Many there be who make of Love a gibe and a +jest, and with specious words defame him by boastful +tales. But theirs is not love. Rather it is folly and +lightness, and the tune of a merry song. But let him +who has found a constant lover prize her above rubies, +and serve her with loyal service, being altogether at +her will. Gugemar loved in this fashion, and therefore +Love came swiftly to his aid. Love put words in his +mouth, and courage in his heart, so that his hope might +be made plain.</p> + +<p>"Lady," said he, "I die for your love. I am in fever +because of my wound, and if you care not to heal my +hurt I would rather die. Fair friend, I pray you for +grace. Do not gainsay me with evil words."</p> + +<p>The lady hearkened with a smile to Gugemar's +speech. Right daintily and sweetly she replied, +"Friend, yea is not a word of two letters. I do not +grant such a prayer every day of the week, and must +you have your gift so quickly?"</p> + +<p>"Lady," cried he, "for God's sake pity me, and take +it not amiss. She, who loves lightly, may make her +lover pray for long, so that she may hide how often her +feet have trodden the pathway with another friend. +But the honest dame, when she has once given her heart +to a friend, will not deny his wish because of pride. +The rather she will find her pride in humbleness, and +love him again with the same love he has set on her. +So they will be glad together, and since none will have +knowledge or hearing of the matter, they will rejoice +in their youth. Fair, sweet lady, be this thy pleasure?"</p> + +<p>When the lady heard these words well she found them +honest and true. Therefore without further prayings +and ado she granted Gugemar her love and her kiss. +Henceforward Gugemar lived greatly at his ease, for +he had sight and speech of his friend, and many a time +she granted him her embrace and tenderness, as is the +wont of lovers when alone.</p> + +<p>For a year and a half Gugemar dwelt with his lady, +in solace and great delight. Then Fortune turned her +wheel, and in a trice cast those down, whose seat had +been so high. Thus it chanced to them, for they were +spied upon and seen.</p> + +<p>On a morning in summer time the Queen and the +damoiseau sat fondly together. The knight embraced +her, eyes and face, but the lady stayed him, saying, +"Fair sweet friend, my heart tells me that I shall +lose you soon, for this hidden thing will quickly be made +clear. If you are slain, may the same sword kill me. +But if you win forth, well I know that you will find +another love, and that I shall be left alone with my +thoughts. Were I parted from you, may God give me +neither joy, nor rest, nor peace, if I would seek another +friend. Of that you need have no fear. Friend, for surety +and comfort of my heart deliver me now some sark +of thine. Therein I will set a knot, and make this +covenant with you, that never will you put your love +on dame or maiden, save only on her who shall first +unfasten this knot. Then you will ever keep faith with +me, for so cunning shall be my craft, that no woman +may hope to unravel that coil, either by force or guile, +or even with her knife."</p> + +<p>So the knight rendered the sark to his lady, and made +such bargain as she wished, for the peace and assurance +of her mind.</p> + +<p>For his part the knight took a fair girdle, and girt +it closely about the lady's middle. Right secret was the +clasp and buckle of this girdle. Therefore he required +of the dame that she would never grant her love, save +to him only, who might free her from the strictness of +this bond, without injury to band or clasp. Then they +kissed together, and entered into such covenant as you +have heard.</p> + +<p>That very day their hidden love was made plain to +men. A certain chamberlain was sent by that ancient +lord with a message to the Queen. This unlucky wretch, +finding that in no wise could he enter within the chamber, +looked through the window, and saw. Forthwith he +hastened to the King, and told him that which he had +seen. When the agèd lord understood these words, +never was there a sadder man than he. He called +together the most trusty sergeants of his guard, and +coming with them to the Queen's chamber, bade them +to thrust in the door. When Gugemar was found therein, +the King commanded that he should be slain with the +sword, by reason of the anguish that was his. Gugemar +was in no whit dismayed by the threat. He started to +his feet, and gazing round, marked a stout rod of fir, +on which it is the use for linen to be hung. This he +took in hand, and faced his foes, bidding them have a +care, for he would do a mischief to them all. The King +looked earnestly upon the fearless knight, inquiring +of him who he was, and where he was born, and in what +manner he came to dwell within his house. So Gugemar +told over to him this story of his fate. He showed him +of the Beast that he had wounded to his hurt; of the +nave, and of his bitter wound; of how he came within +the realm, and of the lady's surgery. He told all to +the ancient lord, to the last moment when he stood within +his power. The King replied that he gave no credence +to his word, nor believed that the story ran as he had +said. If, however, the vessel might be found, he would +commit the knight again to the waves. He would go +the more heavily for the knight's saining, and a +glad day would it be if he made shipwreck at sea. +When they had entered into this covenant together, +they went forth to the harbour, and there discovered +the barge, even as Gugemar had said. So they set +him thereon, and prayed him to return unto his own +realm.</p> + +<p>Without sail or oar the ship parted from that coast, +with no further tarrying. The knight wept and wrung +his hands, complaining of his lady's loss, and of her +cherishing. He prayed the mighty God to grant him +speedy death, and never to bring him home, save to +meet again with her who was more desirable than life. +Whilst he was yet at his orisons, the ship drew again +to that port, from whence she had first come. Gugemar +made haste to get him from the vessel, so that he +might the more swiftly return to his own land. He +had gone but a little way when he was aware of a +squire of his household, riding in the company of a certain +knight. This squire held the bridle of a destrier in his +hand, though no man rode thereon. Gugemar called +to him by name, so that the varlet looking upon him, +knew again his lord. He got him to his feet, and bringing +the destrier to his master, set the knight thereon. Great +was the joy, and merry was the feast, when Gugemar +returned to his own realm. But though his friends did +all that they were able, neither song nor game could +cheer the knight, nor turn him from dwelling in his +unhappy thoughts. For peace of mind they urged that +he took to himself a wife, but Gugemar would have +none of their counsel. Never would he wed a wife, on +any day, either for love or for wealth, save only that +she might first unloose the knot within his shirt. When +this news was noised about the country, there was neither +dame nor damsel in the realm of Brittany, but essayed +to unfasten the knot. But there was no lady who could +gain to her wish, whether by force or guile.</p> + +<p>Now will I show of that lady, whom Gugemar so +fondly loved. By the counsel of a certain baron the +ancient King set his wife in prison. She was shut fast +in a tower of grey marble, where her days were bad, +and her nights worse. No man could make clear to you +the great pain, the anguish and the dolour, that she +suffered in this tower, wherein, I protest, she died daily. +Two years and more she lay bound in prison, where +warders came, but never joy or delight. Often she +thought upon her friend.</p> + +<p>"Gugemar, dear lord, in an evil hour I saw you with +my eyes. Better for me that I die quickly, than endure +longer my evil lot. Fair friend, if I could but win to +that coast whence you sailed, very swiftly would I +fling myself in the sea, and end my wretched life." +When she had said these words she rose to her feet, +and coming to the door was amazed to find therein +neither bolt nor key. She issued forth, without challenge +from sergeant or warder, and hastening to the harbour, +found there her lover's ship, made fast to that very +rock, from which she would cast her down. When she +saw the barge she climbed thereon, but presently +bethought her that on this nave her friend had gone +to perish in the sea. At this thought she would have +fled again to the shore, but her bones were as water, and +she fell upon the deck. So in sore travail and sorrow, +the vessel carried her across the waves, to a port of +Brittany, guarded by a castle, strong and very fair. +Now the lord of this castle was named Meriadus. He +was a right warlike prince, and had made him ready to +fight with the prince of a country near by. He had +risen very early in the morning, to send forth a great +company of spears, the more easily to ravage this +neighbour's realm. Meriadus looked forth from his +window, and marked the ship which came to port. +He hastened down the steps of the perron, and calling to +his chamberlain, came with what speed he might to +the nave. Then mounting the ladder he stood upon +the deck. When Meriadus found within the ship a +dame, who for beauty seemed rather a fay than a mere +earthly woman, he seized her by her mantle, and brought +her swiftly to his keep. Right joyous was he because +of his good fortune, for lovely was the lady beyond +mortal measure. He made no question as to who had +set her on the barge. He knew only that she was fair, +and of high lineage, and that his heart turned towards +her with so hot a love as never before had he put on +dame or damsel. Now there dwelt within the castle +a sister of this lord, who was yet unwed. Meriadus +bestowed the lady in his sister's chamber, because it +was the fairest in the tower. Moreover he commanded +that she should be meetly served, and held in all reverence. +But though the dame was so richly clothed and +cherished, ever was she sad and deep in thought. +Meriadus came often to cheer her with mirth and speech, +by reason that he wished to gain her love as a free gift, +and not by force. It was in vain that he prayed her for +grace, since she had no balm for his wound. For answer +she showed him the girdle about her body, saying that +never would she give her love to man, save only to him +who might unloose the buckle of that girdle, without +harm to belt or clasp. When Meriadus heard these +words, he spoke in haste and said,</p> + +<p>"Lady, there dwells in this country a very worthy +knight, who will take no woman as wife, except she +first untie a certain crafty knot in the hem of a shirt, +and that without force or knife. For a little I would +wager that it was you who tied this knot."</p> + +<p>When the lady heard thereof her breath went from +her, and near she came to falling on the ground. +Meriadus caught her in his arms, and cut the laces of +her bodice, that she might have the more air. He +strove to unfasten her girdle, but might not dissever the +clasp. Yea, though every knight in the realm essayed +to unfasten that cincture, it would not yield, except +to one alone.</p> + +<p>Now Meriadus made the lists ready for a great +jousting, and called to that tournament all the knights +who would aid him in his war. Many a lord came at his +bidding, and with them Gugemar, amongst the first. +Meriadus had sent letters to the knight, beseeching +him, as friend and companion, not to fail him in this +business. So Gugemar hastened to the need of his +lord, and at his back more than one hundred spears. +All these Meriadus welcomed very gladly, and gave +them lodging within his tower. In honour of his guest, +the prince sent two gentlemen to his sister, praying +her to attire herself richly, and come to hall, together +with the dame whom he loved so dearly well. These +did as they were bidden, and arrayed in their sweetest +vesture, presently entered in the hall, holding each other +by the hand. Very pale and pensive was the lady, but +when she heard her lover's name her feet failed beneath +her, and had not the maiden held her fast, she would +have fallen on the floor. Gugemar rose from his seat +at the sight of the dame, her fashion and her semblance, +and stood staring upon her. He went a little apart, +and said within himself, +"Can this be my sweet friend, my hope, my heart, +my life, the fair lady who gave me the grace of her love? +From whence comes she; who might have brought her +to this far land? But I speak in my folly, for well I +know that this is not my dear. A little red, a little +white, and all women are thus shapen. My thoughts +are troubled, by reason that the sweetness of this lady +resembles the sweetness of that other, for whom my heart +sighs and trembles. Yet needs must that I have speech +of the lady."</p> + +<p>Gugemar drew near to the dame. He kissed her +courteously, and found no word to utter, save to pray +that he might be seated at her side. Meriadus spied +upon them closely, and was the more heavy because +of their trouble. Therefore he feigned mirth.</p> + +<p>"Gugemar, dear lord, if it pleases you, let this damsel +essay to untie the knot of your sark, if so be she may +loosen the coil."</p> + +<p>Gugemar made answer that very willingly he would +do this thing. He called to him a squire who had the +shirt in keeping, and bade him seek his charge, and +deliver it to the dame. The lady took the sark in hand. +Well she knew the knot that she had tied so cunningly, +and was so willing to unloose; but for reason of the +trouble at her heart, she did not dare essay. Meriadus +marked the distress of the damsel, and was more +sorrowful than ever was lover before.</p> + +<p>"Lady," said he, "do all that you are able to unfasten +this coil."</p> + +<p>So at his commandment she took again to her the +hem of the shirt, and lightly and easily unravelled the +tie.</p> + +<p>Gugemar marvelled greatly when he saw this thing. +His heart told him that of a truth this was his lady, +but he could not give faith to his eyes.</p> + +<p>"Friend, are you indeed the sweet comrade I have +known? Tell me truly now, is there about your body +the girdle with which I girt you in your own realm?"</p> + +<p>He set his hands to her waist, and found that the +secret belt was yet about her sides.</p> +<br> + +<p>"Fair sweet friend, tell me now by what adventure +I find you here, and who has brought you to this tower?"</p> + +<p>So the lady told over to her friend the pain and the +anguish and the dolour of the prison in which she was +held; of how it chanced that she fled from her dungeon, +and lighting upon a ship, entered therein, and came +to this fair haven; of how Meriadus took her from the +barge, but kept her in all honour, save only that ever +he sought for her love; "but now, fair friend, all is well, +for you hold your lady in your arms."</p> + +<p>Gugemar stood upon his feet, and beckoned with his +hand.</p> + +<p>"Lords," he cried, "hearken now to me. I have +found my friend, whom I have lost for a great while. +Before you all I pray and require of Meriadus to yield +me my own. For this grace I give him open thanks. +Moreover I will kneel down, and become his liege man. +For two years, or three, if he will, I will bargain to serve +in his quarrels, and with me, of riders, a hundred or +more at my back."</p> + +<p>Then answered Meriadus, +"Gugemar, fair friend, I am not yet so shaken or +overborne in war, that I must do as you wish, right +humbly. This woman is my captive. I found her: +I hold her: and I will defend my right against you +and all your power."</p> + +<p>When Gugemar heard these proud words he got to +horse speedily, him and all his company. He threw +down his glove, and parted in anger from the tower. But +he went right heavily, since he must leave behind his +friend. In his train rode all those knights who had drawn +together to that town for the great tournament. Not +a knight of them all but plighted faith to follow where he +led, and to hold himself recreant and shamed if he failed +his oath.</p> +<br> + +<p>That same night the band came to the castle of the +prince with whom Meriadus was at war. He welcomed +them very gladly, and gave them lodging in his tower. +By their aid he had good hope to bring this quarrel to +an end. Very early in the morning the host came together +to set the battle in array. With clash of mail and noise +of horns they issued from the city gate, Gugemar riding +at their head. They drew before the castle where +Meriadus lay in strength, and sought to take it by storm. +But the keep was very strong, and Meriadus bore himself +as a stout and valiant knight. So Gugemar, like a wary +captain, sat himself down before the town, till all the folk +of that place were deemed by friend and sergeant to be +weak with hunger. Then they took that high keep with +the sword, and burnt it with fire. The lord thereof they +slew in his own hall; but Gugemar came forth, after +such labours as you have heard, bearing his lady with +him, to return in peace to his own land.</p> + +<p>From this adventure that I have told you, has come +the Lay that minstrels chant to harp and viol—fair +is that song and sweet the tune.</p> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="III"></a><h2>III</h2> + +<p>THE LAY OF THE DOLOROUS KNIGHT</p> +<br> + +<p>Hearken now to the Lay that once I heard a minstrel +chanting to his harp. In surety of its truth I will +name the city where this story passed. The Lay of the +Dolorous Knight, my harper called his song, but of those +who hearkened, some named it rather, The Lay of the +Four Sorrows.</p> + +<p>In Nantes, of Brittany, there dwelt a dame who was +dearly held of all, for reason of the much good that +was found in her. This lady was passing fair of body, +apt in book as any clerk, and meetly schooled in every +grace that it becometh dame to have. So gracious of +person was this damsel, that throughout the realm there +was no knight could refrain from setting his heart upon +her, though he saw her but one only time. Although the +demoiselle might not return the love of so many, certainly +she had no wish to slay them all. Better by far that a +man pray and require in love all the dames of his country, +than run mad in woods for the bright eyes of one. +Therefore this dame gave courtesy and good will to each +alike. Even when she might not hear a lover's words, so +sweetly she denied his wish that the more he held her dear +and was the more her servant for that fond denial. So +because of her great riches of body and of heart, this lady +of whom I tell, was prayed and required in love by +the lords of her country, both by night and by day.</p> + +<p>Now in Brittany lived four young barons, but their +names I cannot tell. It is enough that they were desirable +in the eyes of maidens for reason of their beauty, and +that men esteemed them because they were courteous of +manner and open of hand. Moreover they were stout and +hardy knights amongst the spears, and rich and worthy +gentlemen of those very parts. Each of these four knights +had set his heart upon the lady, and for love of her +pained himself mightily, and did all that he was able, so +that by any means he might gain her favour. Each +prayed her privily for her love, and strove all that he +could to make him worthy of the gift, above his fellows. +For her part the lady was sore perplexed, and considered +in her mind very earnestly, which of these four knights +she should take as friend. But since they all were +loyal and worthy gentlemen, she durst not choose +amongst them; for she would not slay three lovers +with her hand so that one might have content. Therefore +to each and all, the dame made herself fair and +sweet of semblance. Gifts she gave to all alike. Tender +messages she sent to each. Every knight deemed himself +esteemed and favoured above his fellows, and by soft +words and fair service diligently strove to please. When +the knights gathered together for the games, each of +these lords contended earnestly for the prize, so that he +might be first, and draw on him the favour of his dame. +Each held her for his friend. Each bore upon him her +gift—pennon, or sleeve, or ring. Each cried her name +within the lists.</p> + +<p>Now when Eastertide was come, a great tournament +was proclaimed to be held beyond the walls of Nantes, +that rich city. The four lovers were the appellants in +this tourney, and from every realm knights rode to +break a lance in honour of their dame. Frenchman +and Norman and Fleming; the hardiest knights of +Brabant, Boulogne and Anjou; each came to do his +devoir in the field. Nor was the chivalry of Nantes +backward in this quarrel, but till the vespers of the +tournament was come, they stayed themselves within +the lists, and struck stoutly for their lord. After the +four lovers had laced their harness upon them, they +issued forth from the city, followed by the knights who +were of their company in this adventure. But upon the +four fell the burden of the day, for they were known +of all by the embroidered arms upon their surcoat, +and the device fashioned on the shield. Now against +the four lovers arrayed themselves four other knights, +armed altogether in coats of mail, and helmets and +gauntlets of steel. Of these stranger knights two were +of Hainault, and the two others were Flemings. When +the four lovers saw their adversaries prepare themselves +for the combat, they had little desire to flee, but hastened +to join them in battle. Each lowered his spear, and +choosing his enemy, met him so eagerly that all men +wondered, for horse and man fell to the earth. The +four lovers recked little of their destriers, but freeing +their feet from the stirrups bent over the fallen foe, +and called on him to yield. When the friends of the +vanquished knights saw their case, they hastened to +their succour; so for their rescue there was a great press, +and many a mighty stroke with the sword.</p> + +<p>The damsel stood upon a tower to watch these feats +of arms. By their blazoned coats and shields she knew +her knights; she saw their marvellous deeds, yet might +not say who did best, nor give to one the praise. But +the tournament was no longer a seemly and ordered +battle. The ranks of the two companies were confused +together, so that every man fought against his fellow, +and none might tell whether he struck his comrade or +his foe. The four lovers did well and worshipfully, so +that all men deemed them worthy of the prize. But +when evening was come, and the sport drew to its close, +their courage led them to folly. Having ventured too +far from their companions, they were set upon by their +adversaries, and assailed so fiercely that three were +slain outright. As to the fourth he yet lived, but +altogether mauled and shaken, for his thigh was broken, +and a spear head remained in his side. The four bodies +were fallen on the field, and lay with those who had +perished in that day. But because of the great mischief +these four lovers had done their adversaries, their +shields were cast despitefully without the lists; but +in this their foemen did wrongfully, and all men held +them in sore displeasure.</p> + +<p>Great were the lamentation and the cry when the +news of this mischance was noised about the city. Such +a tumult of mourning was never before heard, for the +whole city was moved. All men hastened forth to the +place where the lists were set. Meetly to mourn the +dead there rode nigh upon two thousand knights, with +hauberks unlaced, and uncovered heads, plucking upon +their beards. So the four lovers were placed each upon +his shield, and being brought back in honour to Nantes, +were carried to the house of that dame, whom so greatly +they had loved. When the lady knew this distressful +adventure, straightway she fell to the ground. Being +returned from her swoon, she made her complaint, +calling upon her lovers each by his name.</p> + +<p>"Alas," said she, "what shall I do, for never shall +I know happiness again. These four knights had set their +hearts upon me, and despite their great treasure, +esteemed my love as richer than all their wealth. Alas, +for the fair and valiant knight! Alas, for the loyal and +generous man! By gifts such as these they sought to +gain my favour, but how might lady bereave three of +life, so as to cherish one. Even now I cannot tell for +whom I have most pity, or who was closest to my mind. +But three are dead, and one is sore stricken; neither +is there anything in the world which can bring me +comfort. Only this is there to do—to give the slain +men seemly burial, and, if it may be, to heal their +comrade of his wounds."</p> + +<p>So, because of her great love and nobleness, the lady +caused these three distressful knights to be buried well +and worshipfully in a rich abbey. In that place she +offered their Mass penny, and gave rich offerings of +silver and of lights besides. May God have mercy +on them in that day. As for the wounded knight +she commanded him to be carried to her own chamber. +She sent for surgeons, and gave him into their hands. +These searched his wounds so skilfully, and tended him +with so great care, that presently his hurt commenced +to heal. Very often was the lady in the chamber, and +very tenderly she cherished the stricken man. Yet ever +she felt pity for the three Knights of the Sorrows, and +ever she went heavily by reason of their deaths.</p> + +<p>Now on a summer's day, the lady and the knight +sat together after meat. She called to mind the sorrow +that was hers; so that, in a space, her head fell upon +her breast, and she gave herself altogether to her grief. +The knight looked earnestly upon his dame. Well he +might see that she was far away, and clearly he perceived +the cause.</p> + +<p>"Lady," said he, "you are in sorrow. Open now +your grief to me. If you tell me what is in your heart +perchance I may find you comfort."</p> + +<p>"Fair friend," replied she, "I think of what is gone, +and remember your companions, who are dead. Never +was lady of my peerage, however fair and good and +gracious, ever loved by four such valiant gentlemen, +nor ever lost them in one single day. Save you—who +were so maimed and in such peril—all are gone. Therefore +I call to mind those who loved me so dearly, and am +the saddest lady beneath the sun. To remember these +things, of you four I shall make a Lay, and will call it +the Lay of the Four Sorrows."</p> + +<p>When the knight heard these words he made answer +very swiftly, +"Lady, name it not the Lay of the Four Sorrows, +but, rather, the Lay of the Dolorous Knight. Would +you hear the reason why it should bear this name? +My three comrades have finished their course; they +have nothing more to hope of their life. They are gone, +and with them the pang of their great sorrow, and the +knowledge of their enduring love for you. I alone have +come, all amazed and fearful, from the net wherein +they were taken, but I find my life more bitter than my +comrades found the grave. I see you on your goings +and comings about the house. I may speak with you +both matins and vespers. But no other joy do I get— +neither clasp nor kiss, nothing but a few empty, courteous +words. Since all these evils are come upon me because +of you, I choose death rather than life. For this reason +your Lay should bear my name, and be called the Lay +of the Dolorous Knight. He who would name it the +Lay of the Four Sorrows would name it wrongly, and +not according to the truth."</p> + +<p>"By my faith," replied the lady, "this is a fair +saying. So shall the song be known as the Lay of the +Dolorous Knight."</p> + +<p>Thus was the Lay conceived, made perfect, and +brought to a fair birth. For this reason it came by its +name; though to this day some call it the Lay of the +Four Sorrows. Either name befits it well, for the story +tells of both these matters, but it is the use and wont +in this land to call it the Lay of the Dolorous Knight. +Here it ends; no more is there to say. I heard no +more, and nothing more I know. Perforce I bring my +story to a close.</p> + +<a name="IV"></a><h2>IV</h2> + +<p>THE LAY OF ELIDUC</p> +<br> + +<p>Now will I rehearse before you a very ancient Breton +Lay. As the tale was told to me, so, in turn, will I tell +it over again, to the best of my art and knowledge. +Hearken now to my story, its why and its reason.</p> + +<p>In Brittany there lived a knight, so courteous and so +brave, that in all the realm there was no worthier lord than +he. This knight was named Eliduc. He had wedded in +his youth a noble lady of proud race and name. They +had long dwelt together in peace and content, for their +hearts were fixed on one another in faith and loyalty. +Now it chanced that Eliduc sought his fortune in a +far land, where there was a great war. There he loved +a Princess, the daughter of the King and Queen of those +parts. Guillardun was the maiden's name, and in all +the realm was none more fair. The wife of Eliduc had to +name, Guildeluec, in her own country. By reason of +these two ladies their story is known as the Lay of Guildeluec +and Guillardun, but at first it was rightly called +the Lay of Eliduc. The name is a little matter; but +if you hearken to me you shall learn the story of these +three lovers, in its pity and its truth.</p> + +<p>Eliduc had as lord and suzerain, the King of Brittany +over Sea. The knight was greatly loved and cherished +of his prince, by reason of his long and loyal service. +When the King's business took him from his realm, +Eliduc was his master's Justice and Seneschal. He +governed the country well and wisely, and held it from +the foe with a strong hand. Nevertheless, in spite of +all, much evil was appointed unto him. Eliduc was a +mighty hunter, and by the King's grace, he would chase +the stag within the woods. He was cunning and fair as +Tristan, and so wise in venery, that the oldest forester +might not gainsay him in aught concerning the shaw. +But by reason of malice and envy, certain men accused +him to the King that he had meddled with the royal +pleasaunce. The King bade Eliduc to avoid his Court. +He gave no reason for his commandment, and the knight +might learn nothing of the cause. Often he prayed the +King that he might know whereof he was accused. +Often he begged his lord not to heed the specious and +crafty words of his foes. He called to mind the wounds +he had gained in his master's wars, but was answered +never a word. When Eliduc found that he might get +no speech with his lord, it became his honour to depart. +He returned to his house, and calling his friends around +him, opened out to them this business of the King's +wrath, in recompense for his faithful service.</p> + +<p>"I did not reckon on a King's gratitude; but as the +proverb says, it is useless for a farmer to dispute with +the horse in his plough. The wise and virtuous man +keeps faith to his lord, and bears goodwill to his neighbour, +not for what he may receive in return."</p> + +<p>Then the knight told his friends that since he might +no longer stay in his own country, he should cross the +sea to the realm of Logres, and sojourn there awhile, +for his solace. His fief he placed in the hands of his wife, +and he required of his men, and of all who held him +dear, that they would serve her loyally. Having given +good counsel to the utmost of his power, the knight +prepared him for the road. Right heavy were his friends +and kin, that he must go forth from amongst them.</p> + +<p>Eliduc took with him ten knights of his household, and +set out on his journey. His dame came with him so far +as she was able, wringing her hands, and making much +sorrow, at the departure of her husband. At the end +he pledged good faith to her, as she to him, and so she +returned to her own home. Eliduc went his way, till +he came to a haven on the sea. He took ship, and sailed +to the realm of Totenois, for many kings dwell in that +country, and ever there were strife and war. Now, +near to Exeter, in this land, there dwelt a King, right +rich and strong, but old and very full of years. He had +no son of his body, but one maid only, young, and of +an age to wed. Since he would not bestow this damsel +on a certain prince of his neighbours, this lord made +mortal war upon his fellow, spoiling and wasting all +his land. The ancient King, for surety, had set his +daughter within a castle, fair and very strong. He had +charged the sergeants not to issue forth from the gates, +and for the rest there was none so bold as to seek to +storm the keep, or even to joust about the barriers. +When Eliduc was told of this quarrel, he needed to go +no farther, and sojourned for awhile in the land. He +turned over in his mind which of these princes dealt +unjustly with his neighbour. Since he deemed that the +agèd king was the more vexed and sorely pressed in +the matter, he resolved to aid him to the best of his +might, and to take arms in his service. Eliduc, therefore, +wrote letters to the King, telling him that he had +quitted his own country, and sought refuge in the King's +realm. For his part he was willing to fight as a mercenary +in the King's quarrel, and if a safe conduct were +given him, he and the knights of his company would +ride, forthwith, to their master's aid. This letter, +Eliduc sent by the hands of his squires to the King. +When the ancient lord had read the letter, he rejoiced +greatly, and made much of the messengers. He summoned +his constable, and commanded him swiftly to +write out the safe conduct, that would bring the baron +to his side. For the rest he bade that the messengers +meetly should be lodged and apparelled, and that such +money should be given them as would be sufficient to +their needs. Then he sealed the safe conduct with his +royal seal, and sent it to Eliduc, straightway, by a sure +hand.</p> + +<p>When Eliduc came in answer to the summons, he +was received with great honour by the King. His +lodging was appointed in the house of a grave and +courteous burgess of the city, who bestowed the fairest +chamber on his guest. Eliduc fared softly, both at bed +and board. He called to his table such good knights +as were in misease, by reason of prison or of war. He +charged his men that none should be so bold as to take +pelf or penny from the citizens of the town, during the +first forty days of their sojourn. But on the third day, +it was bruited about the streets, that the enemy were +near at hand. The country folk deemed that they +approached to invest the city, and to take the gates +by storm. When the noise and clamour of the fearful +burgesses came to the ears of Eliduc, he and his company +donned their harness, and got to horse, as quickly as +they might. Forty horsemen mounted with him; as +to the rest, many lay sick or hurt within the city, and +others were captives in the hands of the foe. These +forty stout sergeants waited for no sounding of trumpets; +they hastened to seek their captain at his lodging, and +rode at his back through the city gate.</p> + +<p>"Sir," said they, "where you go, there we will follow, +and what you bid us, that shall we do."</p> + +<p>"Friends," made answer the knight, "I thank you +for your fellowship. There is no man amongst us but +who wishes to molest the foe, and do them all the mischief +that he is able. If we await them in the town, we +defend ourselves with the shield, and not with the +sword. To my mind it is better to fall in the field than +to hide behind walls; but if any of you have a wiser +counsel to offer, now let him speak."</p> + +<p>"Sir," replied a soldier of the company, "through +the wood, in good faith, there runs a path, right strict +and narrow. It is the wont of the enemy to approach +our city by this track. After their deeds of arms before +the walls, it is their custom to return by the way they +came, helmet on saddle bow, and hauberk unbraced. +If we might catch them, unready in the path, we could +trouble them very grievously, even though it be at the +peril of our lives."</p> + +<p>"Friends," answered Eliduc, "you are all the King's +men, and are bound to serve him faithfully, even to +the death. Come, now, with me where I will go, and +do that thing which you shall see me do. I give you my +word as a loyal gentleman, that no harm shall hap to +any. If we gain spoil and riches from the foe, each shall +have his lot in the ransom. At the least we may do them +much hurt and mischief in this quarrel."</p> + +<p>Eliduc set his men in ambush, near by that path, +within the wood. He told over to them, like a cunning +captain, the crafty plan he had devised, and taught them +how to play their parts, and to call upon his name. +When the foe had entered on that perilous path, and +were altogether taken in the snare, Eliduc cried his +name, and summoned his companions to bear themselves +like men. This they did stoutly, and assailed their +enemy so fiercely that he was dismayed beyond measure, +and his line being broken, fled to the forest. In this +fight was the constable taken, together with fifty and +five other lords, who owned themselves prisoners, and +were given to the keeping of the squires. Great was +the spoil in horse and harness, and marvellous was the +wealth they gained in gold and ransom. So having +done such great deeds in so short a space, they returned +to the city, joyous and content.</p> + +<p>The King looked forth from a tower. He feared +grievously for his men, and made his complaint of +Eliduc, who—he deemed—had betrayed him in his need. +Upon the road he saw a great company, charged and +laden with spoil. Since the number of those who +returned was more than those who went forth, the king +knew not again his own. He came down from the tower, +in doubt and sore trouble, bidding that the gates should +be made fast, and that men should mount upon the walls. +For such coil as this, there was slender warrant. A +squire who was sent out, came back with all speed, and +showed him of this adventure. He told over the story of +the ambush, and the tale of the prisoners. He rehearsed +how the constable was taken, and that many a knight +was wounded, and many a brave man slain. When the +King might give credence thereto, he had more joy than +ever king before. He got him from his tower, and going +before Eliduc, he praised him to his face, and rendered +him the captives as a gift. Eliduc gave the King's +bounty to his men. He bestowed on them besides, all +the harness and the spoil; keeping, for his part, but +three knights, who had won much honour in the battle. +From this day the King loved and cherished Eliduc very +dearly. He held the knight, and his company, for a full +year in his service, and at the end of the year, such faith +had he in the knight's loyalty, that he appointed him +Seneschal and Constable of his realm.</p> + +<p>Eliduc was not only a brave and wary captain; he +was also a courteous gentleman, right goodly to behold.</p> + +<p>That fair maiden, the daughter of the King, heard tell +of his deeds, and desired to see his face, because of the +good men spake of him. She sent her privy chamberlain +to the knight, praying him to come to her house, that +she might solace herself with the story of his deeds, for +greatly she wondered that he had no care for her friendship. +Eliduc gave answer to the chamberlain that +he would ride forthwith, since much he desired to +meet so high a dame. He bade his squire to saddle +his destrier, and rode to the palace, to have speech +with the lady. Eliduc stood without the lady's +chamber, and prayed the chamberlain to tell the dame +that he had come, according to her wish. The chamberlain +came forth with a smiling face, and straightway +led him in the chamber. When the princess saw the +knight, she cherished him very sweetly, and welcomed +him in the most honourable fashion. The knight +gazed upon the lady, who was passing fair to see. +He thanked her courteously, that she was pleased to +permit him to have speech with so high a princess. +Guillardun took Eliduc by the hand, and seated him +upon the bed, near her side. They spake together of +many things, for each found much to say. The maiden +looked closely upon the knight, his face and semblance; +to her heart she said that never before had she beheld +so comely a man. Her eyes might find no blemish in +his person, and Love knocked upon her heart, requiring +her to love, since her time had come. She sighed, and her +face lost its fair colour; but she cared only to hide her +trouble from the knight, lest he should think her the +less maidenly therefore. When they had talked together +for a great space, Eliduc took his leave, and went +his way. The lady would have kept him longer gladly, +but since she did not dare, she allowed him to depart. +Eliduc returned to his lodging, very pensive and deep +in thought. He called to mind that fair maiden, +the daughter of his King, who so sweetly had bidden +him to her side, and had kissed him farewell, with +sighs that were sweeter still. He repented him right +earnestly that he had lived so long a while in the land +without seeking her face, but promised that often +he would enter her palace now. Then he remembered +the wife whom he had left in his own house. He +recalled the parting between them, and the covenant +he made, that good faith and stainless honour should +be ever betwixt the twain. But the maiden, from +whom he came, was willing to take him as her knight! +If such was her will, might any pluck him from her +hand?</p> + +<p>All night long, that fair maiden, the daughter of the +King, had neither rest nor sleep. She rose up, very +early in the morning, and commanding her chamberlain, +opened out to him all that was in her heart. She leaned +her brow against the casement.</p> + +<p>"By my faith," she said, "I am fallen into a deep +ditch, and sorrow has come upon me. I love Eliduc, +the good knight, whom my father made his Seneschal. +I love him so dearly that I turn the whole night upon +my bed, and cannot close my eyes, nor sleep. If he +assured me of his heart, and loved me again, all my +pleasure should be found in his happiness. Great +might be his profit, for he would become King of this +realm, and little enough is it for his deserts, so courteous +is he and wise. If he have nothing better than friendship +to give me, I choose death before life, so deep is +my distress."</p> + +<p>When the princess had spoken what it pleased her to +say, the chamberlain, whom she had bidden, gave her +loyal counsel.</p> + +<p>"Lady," said he, "since you have set your love upon +this knight, send him now—if so it please you—some +goodly gift-girdle or scarf or ring. If he receive the +gift with delight, rejoicing in your favour, you may be +assured that he loves you. There is no Emperor, under +Heaven, if he were tendered your tenderness, but would +go the more lightly for your grace."</p> + +<p>The damsel hearkened to the counsel of her chamberlain, +and made reply, +"If only I knew that he desired my love! Did ever +maiden woo her knight before, by asking whether he +loved or hated her? What if he make of me a mock and +a jest in the ears of his friends! Ah, if the secrets of the +heart were but written on the face! But get you ready, +for go you must, at once."</p> + +<p>"Lady," answered the chamberlain, "I am ready to +do your bidding."</p> + +<p>"You must greet the knight a hundred times in my +name, and will place my girdle in his hand, and this my +golden ring."</p> + +<p>When the chamberlain had gone upon his errand, the +maiden was so sick at heart, that for a little she would +have bidden him return. Nevertheless, she let him +go his way, and eased her shame with words.</p> + +<p>"Alas, what has come upon me, that I should put my +heart upon a stranger. I know nothing of his folk, +whether they be mean or high; nor do I know whether he +will part as swiftly as he came. I have done foolishly, +and am worthy of blame, since I have bestowed my +love very lightly. I spoke to him yesterday for +the first time, and now I pray him for his love. +Doubtless he will make me a song! Yet if he be the +courteous gentleman I believe him, he will understand, +and not deal hardly with me. At least the dice are +cast, and if he may not love me, I shall know myself +the most woeful of ladies, and never taste of joy all +the days of my life."</p> +<br> + +<p>Whilst the maiden lamented in this fashion, the chamberlain +hastened to the lodging of Eliduc. He came +before the knight, and having saluted him in his lady's +name, he gave to his hand the ring and the girdle. The +knight thanked him earnestly for the gifts. He placed +the ring upon his finger, and the girdle he girt about his +body. He said no more to the chamberlain, nor asked +him any questions; save only that he proffered him a +gift. This the messenger might not have, and returned +the way he came. The chamberlain entered in the palace +and found the princess within her chamber. He greeted +her on the part of the knight, and thanked her for her +bounty.</p> + +<p>"Diva, diva," cried the lady hastily, "hide nothing +from me; does he love me, or does he not?"</p> + +<p>"Lady," answered the chamberlain, "as I deem, he +loves you, and truly. Eliduc is no cozener with words. +I hold him for a discreet and prudent gentleman, who +knows well how to hide what is in his heart. I gave him +greeting in your name, and granted him your gifts. He +set the ring upon his finger, and as to your girdle, he girt +it upon him, and belted it tightly about his middle. I +said no more to him, nor he to me; but if he received not +your gifts in tenderness, I am the more deceived. Lady, I +have told you his words: I cannot tell you his thoughts. +Only, mark carefully what I am about to say. If +Eliduc had not a richer gift to offer, he would not have +taken your presents at my hand."</p> + +<p>"It pleases you to jest," said the lady. "I know well +that Eliduc does not altogether hate me. Since my only +fault is to cherish him too fondly, should he hate me, +he would indeed be blameworthy. Never again by you, +or by any other, will I require him of aught, or look to +him for comfort. He shall see that a maiden's love is no +slight thing, lightly given, and lightly taken again—but, +perchance, he will not dwell in the realm so long as to +know of the matter."</p> + +<p>"Lady, the knight has covenanted to serve the King, +in all loyalty, for the space of a year. You have full +leisure to tell, whatever you desire him to learn."</p> + +<p>When the maiden heard that Eliduc remained in the +country, she rejoiced very greatly. She was glad that the +knight would sojourn awhile in her city, for she knew +naught of the torment he endured, since first he looked +upon her. He had neither peace nor delight, for he +could not get her from his mind. He reproached himself +bitterly. He called to remembrance the covenant he +made with his wife, when he departed from his own land, +that he would never be false to his oath. But his heart +was a captive now, in a very strong prison. He desired +greatly to be loyal and honest, but he could not deny his +love for the maiden—Guillardun, so frank and so fair.</p> + +<p>Eliduc strove to act as his honour required. He had +speech and sight of the lady, and did not refuse her kiss +and embrace. He never spoke of love, and was diligent +to offend in nothing. He was careful in this, because he +would keep faith with his wife, and would attempt no +matter against his King. Very grievously he pained himself, +but at the end he might do no more. Eliduc +caused his horse to be saddled, and calling his companions +about him, rode to the castle to get audience of +the King. He considered, too, that he might see his +lady, and learn what was in her heart. It was the hour +of meat, and the King having risen from table, had entered +in his daughter's chamber. The King was at chess, +with a lord who had but come from over-sea. The lady +sat near the board, to watch the movements of the game. +When Eliduc came before the prince, he welcomed him +gladly, bidding him to seat himself close at hand. Afterwards +he turned to his daughter, and said, +"Princess, it becomes you to have a closer friendship +with this lord, and to treat him well and worshipfully. +Amongst five hundred, there is no better knight than he."</p> + +<p>When the maiden had listened demurely to her father's +commandment, there was no gayer lady than she. She +rose lightly to her feet, and taking the knight a little from +the others, seated him at her side. They remained silent, +because of the greatness of their love. She did not dare +to speak the first, and to him the maid was more dreadful +than a knight in mail. At the end Eliduc thanked her +courteously for the gifts she had sent him; never was +grace so precious and so kind. The maiden made answer +to the knight, that very dear to her was the use he had +found for her ring, and the girdle with which he had +belted his body. She loved him so fondly that she +wished him for her husband. If she might not have her +wish, one thing she knew well, that she would take no +living man, but would die unwed. She trusted he would +not deny her hope.</p> + +<p>"Lady," answered the knight, "I have great joy in +your love, and thank you humbly for the goodwill you +bear me. I ought indeed to be a happy man, since you +deign to show me at what price you value our friendship. +Have you remembered that I may not remain always in +your realm? I covenanted with the King to serve him +as his man for the space of one year. Perchance I may +stay longer in his service, for I would not leave him till +his quarrel be ended. Then I shall return to my own +land; so, fair lady, you permit me to say farewell."</p> + +<p>The maiden made answer to her knight, +"Fair friend, right sweetly I thank you for your +courteous speech. So apt a clerk will know, without +more words, that he may have of me just what he would. +It becomes my love to give faith to all you say."</p> + +<p>The two lovers spoke together no further; each was +well assured of what was in the other's heart. Eliduc +rode back to his lodging, right joyous and content. +Often he had speech with his friend, and passing great +was the love which grew between the twain.</p> + +<p>Eliduc pressed on the war so fiercely that in the end +he took captive the King who troubled his lord, and had +delivered the land from its foes. He was greatly praised +of all as a crafty captain in the field, and a hardy comrade +with the spear. The poor and the minstrel counted +him a generous knight. About this time that King, +who had bidden Eliduc avoid his realm, sought diligently +to find him. He had sent three messengers beyond the +seas to seek his ancient Seneschal. A strong enemy +had wrought him much grief and loss. All his castles +were taken from him, and all his country was a spoil +to the foe. Often and sorely he repented him of the evil +counsel to which he had given ear. He mourned the +absence of his mightiest knight, and drove from his +councils those false lords who, for malice and envy, +had defamed him. These he outlawed for ever from his +realm. The King wrote letters to Eliduc, conjuring +him by the loving friendship that was once between +them, and summoning him as a vassal is required of +his lord, to hasten to his aid, in that his bitter need. +When Eliduc heard these tidings they pressed heavily +upon him, by reason of the grievous love he bore the +dame. She, too, loved him with a woman's whole heart. +Between the two there was nothing but the purest love +and tenderness. Never by word or deed had they spoiled +their friendship. To speak a little closely together; +to give some fond and foolish gift; this was the sum +of their love. In her wish and hope the maiden trusted +to hold the knight in her land, and to have him as her +lord. Naught she deemed that he was wedded to a wife +beyond the sea.</p> + +<p>"Alas," said Eliduc, "I have loitered too long in +this country, and have gone astray. Here I have set +my heart on a maiden, Guillardun, the daughter of the +King, and she, on me. If, now, we part, there is no +help that one, or both, of us, must die. Yet go I must. +My lord requires me by letters, and by the oath of fealty +that I have sworn. My own honour demands that I +should return to my wife. I dare not stay; needs must +I go. I cannot wed my lady, for not a priest in Christendom +would make us man and wife. All things turn to +blame. God, what a tearing asunder will our parting +be! Yet there is one who will ever think me in the right, +though I be held in scorn of all. I will be guided by her +wishes, and what she counsels that will I do. The King, +her sire, is troubled no longer by any war. First, I will +go to him, praying that I may return to my own land, +for a little, because of the need of my rightful lord. +Then I will seek out the maiden, and show her the whole +business. She will tell me her desire, and I shall act +according to her wish."</p> + +<p>The knight hesitated no longer as to the path he should +follow. He went straight to the King, and craved leave +to depart. He told him the story of his lord's distress, +and read, and placed in the King's hands, the letters +calling him back to his home. When the King had read +the writing, and knew that Eliduc purposed to depart, +he was passing sad and heavy. He offered the knight +the third part of his kingdom, with all the treasure that +he pleased to ask, if he would remain at his side. He +offered these things to the knight—these, and the +gratitude of all his days besides.</p> + +<p>"Do not tempt me, sire," replied the knight. "My +lord is in such deadly peril, and his letters have come +so great a way to require me, that go I must to aid him +in his need. When I have ended my task, I will return +very gladly, if you care for my services, and with me a +goodly company of knights to fight in your quarrels."</p> + +<p>The King thanked Eliduc for his words, and granted +him graciously the leave that he demanded. He gave +him, moreover, all the goods of his house; gold and +silver, hound and horses, silken cloths, both rich and +fair, these he might have at his will. Eliduc took of +them discreetly, according to his need. Then, very +softly, he asked one other gift. If it pleased the King, +right willingly would he say farewell to the princess, +before he went. The King replied that it was his pleasure, +too. He sent a page to open the door of the maiden's +chamber, and to tell her the knight's request. When +she saw him, she took him by the hand, and saluted him +very sweetly. Eliduc was the more fain of counsel +than of claspings. He seated himself by the maiden's +side, and as shortly as he might, commenced to show +her of the business. He had done no more than read her +of his letters, than her face lost its fair colour, and near +she came to swoon. When Eliduc saw her about to +fall, he knew not what he did, for grief. He kissed her +mouth, once and again, and wept above her, very +tenderly. He took, and held her fast in his arms, till +she had returned from her swoon.</p> + +<p>"Fair dear friend," said he softly, "bear with me +while I tell you that you are my life and my death, +and in you is all my comfort. I have bidden farewell +to your father, and purposed to go back to my own land, +for reason of this bitter business of my lord. But my +will is only in your pleasure, and whatever the future +brings me, your counsel I will do."</p> + +<p>"Since you cannot stay," said the maiden, "take +me with you, wherever you go. If not, my life is so +joyless without you, that I would wish to end it with +my knife."</p> + +<p>Very sweetly made answer Sir Eliduc, for in honesty +he loved honest maid, +"Fair friend, I have sworn faith to your father, and +am his man. If I carried you with me, I should give +the lie to my troth. Let this covenant be made between +us. Should you give me leave to return to my own +land I swear to you on my honour as a knight, that I +will come again on any day that you shall name. My +life is in your hands. Nothing on earth shall keep me +from your side, so only that I have life and health."</p> + +<p>Then she, who loved so fondly, granted her knight +permission to depart, and fixed the term, and named the +day for his return. Great was their sorrow that the hour +had come to bid farewell. They gave rings of gold for +remembrance, and sweetly kissed adieu. So they severed +from each other's arms.</p> + +<p>Eliduc sought the sea, and with a fair wind, crossed +swiftly to the other side. His lord was greatly content +to learn the tidings of his knight's return. His friends +and his kinsfolk came to greet him, and the common +folk welcomed him very gladly. But, amongst them all, +none was so blithe at his home-coming as the fair and +prudent lady who was his wife. Despite this show of +friendship, Eliduc was ever sad, and deep in thought. +He went heavily, till he might look upon his friend. +He felt no happiness, nor made pretence of any, till he +should meet with her again. His wife was sick at heart, +because of the coldness of her husband. She took +counsel with her soul, as to what she had done amiss. +Often she asked him privily, if she had come short or +offended in any measure, whilst he was without the +realm. If she was accused by any, let him tell her the +accusation, that she might purge herself of the offence.</p> + +<p>"Wife," answered Eliduc, "neither I, nor any other, +charge you with aught that is against your honour to +do. The cause of my sorrow is in myself. I have pledged +my faith to the King of that country, from whence I +come, that I will return to help him in his need. When +my lord the King has peace in his realm, within eight +days I shall be once more upon the sea. Great travail +I must endure, and many pains I shall suffer, in readiness +for that hour. Return I must, and till then I have no +mind for anything but toil; for I will not give the lie +to my plighted word."</p> + +<p>Eliduc put his fief once more in the hands of his dame. +He sought his lord, and aided him to the best of his +might. By the counsel and prowess of the knight, the +King came again into his own. When the term appointed +by his lady, and the day she named for his return drew +near, Eliduc wrought in such fashion that peace was +accorded between the foes. Then the knight made him +ready for his journey, and took thought to the folk +he should carry with him. His choice fell on two of +his nephews, whom he loved very dearly, and on a +certain chamberlain of his household. These were trusted +servitors, who were of his inmost mind, and knew much +of his counsel. Together with these went his squires, +these only, for Eliduc had no care to take many. All +these, nephew and squire and chamberlain, Eliduc +made to promise, and confirm by an oath, that they +would reveal nothing of his business.</p> + +<p>The company put to sea without further tarrying, +and, crossing quickly, came to that land where Eliduc +so greatly desired to be. The knight sought a hostel +some distance from the haven, for he would not be seen +of any, nor have it bruited that Eliduc was returned. +He called his chamberlain, and sent him to his friend, +bearing letters that her knight had come, according to +the covenant that had been made. At nightfall, before +the gates were made fast, Eliduc issued forth from the +city, and followed after his messenger. He had clothed +himself in mean apparel, and rode at a footpace +straight to the city, where dwelt the daughter of the +King. The chamberlain arrived before the palace, +and by dint of asking and prying, found himself within +the lady's chamber. He saluted the maiden, and told +her that her lover was near. When Guillardun heard +these tidings she was astonied beyond measure, and +for joy and pity wept right tenderly. She kissed the +letters of her friend, and the messenger who brought +such welcome tidings. The chamberlain prayed the lady +to attire and make her ready to join her friend. The +day was spent in preparing for the adventure, according +to such plan as had been devised. When dark was come, +and all was still, the damsel stole forth from the palace, +and the chamberlain with her. For fear that any man +should know her again, the maiden had hidden, beneath +a riding cloak, her silken gown, embroidered with gold. +About the space of a bow shot from the city gate, +there was a coppice standing within a fair meadow. +Near by this wood, Eliduc and his comrades awaited +the coming of Guillardun. When Eliduc saw the lady, +wrapped in her mantle, and his chamberlain leading +her by the hand, he got from his horse, and kissed her +right tenderly. Great joy had his companions at so +fair a sight. He set her on the horse, and climbing +before her, took bridle in glove, and returned to the haven, +with all the speed he might. He entered forthwith in +the ship, which put to sea, having on board none, +save Eliduc, his men, and his lady, Guillardun. With +a fair wind, and a quiet hour, the sailors thought that +they would swiftly come to shore. But when their +journey was near its end, a sudden tempest arose on +the sea. A mighty wind drove them far from their +harbourage, so that their rudder was broken, and their +sail torn from the mast. Devoutly they cried on St. +Nicholas, St. Clement, and Madame St. Mary, to aid +them in this peril. They implored the Mother that she +would approach her Son, not to permit them to perish, +but to bring them to the harbour where they would +come. Without sail or oar, the ship drifted here and +there, at the mercy of the storm. They were very close +to death, when one of the company, with a loud voice +began to cry, +"What need is there of prayers! Sir, you have with +you, her, who brings us to our death. We shall never win +to land, because you, who already have a faithful wife, +seek to wed this foreign woman, against God and His +law, against honour and your plighted troth. Grant us +to cast her in the sea, and straightway the winds and +the waves will be still."</p> + +<p>When Eliduc heard these words he was like to come +to harm for rage.</p> + +<p>"Bad servant and felon traitor," he cried, "you +should pay dearly for your speech, if I might leave my +lady."</p> + +<p>Eliduc held his friend fast in his arms, and cherished +her as well as he was able. When the lady heard that +her knight was already wedded in his own realm, she +swooned where she lay. Her face became pale and discoloured; +she neither breathed nor sighed, nor could +any bring her any comfort. Those who carried her to +a sheltered place, were persuaded that she was but dead, +because of the fury of the storm. Eliduc was passing +heavy. He rose to his feet, and hastening to his squire, +smote him so grievously with an oar, that he fell senseless +on the deck. He haled him by his legs to the side of +the ship and flung the body in the sea, where it was +swiftly swallowed by the waves. He went to the broken +rudder, and governed the nave so skilfully, that it +presently drew to land. So, having come to their fair +haven, they cast anchor, and made fast their bridge to +the shore. Dame Guillardun lay yet in her swoon, and +seemed no other than if she were really dead. Eliduc's +sorrow was all the more, since he deemed that he had +slain her with his hand. He inquired of his companions +in what near place they might lay the lady to her rest, +"for I will not bid her farewell, till she is put in holy +ground with such pomp and rite as befit the obsequies +of the daughter of a King." His comrades answered +him never a word, for they were all bemused by reason +of what had befallen. Eliduc, therefore, considered +within himself to what place he should carry the lady. +His own home was so near the haven where he had +come, that very easily they could ride there before +evening. He called to mind that in his realm there was +a certain great forest, both long and deep. Within +this wood there was a little chapel, served by a holy +hermit for forty years, with whom Eliduc had oftimes +spoken.</p> + +<p>"To this holy man," he said, "I will bear my lady. +In his chapel he shall bury her sweet body. I will endow +him so richly of my lands, that upon her chantry shall +be founded a mighty abbey. There some convent of +monks or nuns or canons shall ever hold her in remembrance, +praying God to grant her mercy in His day."</p> + +<p>Eliduc got to horse, but first took oath of his comrades +that never, by them, should be discovered, that which +they should see. He set his friend before him on the +palfrey, and thus the living and the dead rode together, +till they had entered the wood, and come before the +chapel. The squires called and beat upon the door, but +it remained fast, and none was found to give them any +answer. Eliduc bade that one should climb through a +window, and open the door from within. When they +had come within the chapel they found a new made +tomb, and writ thereon, that the holy hermit having +finished his course, was made perfect, eight days before +Passing sad was Eliduc, and esmayed. His companions +would have digged a second grave, and set therein, his +friend; but the knight would in no wise consent, for—he +said—he purposed to take counsel of the priests +of his country, as to building some church or abbey +above her tomb. "At this hour we will but lay her +body before the altar, and commend her to God His holy +keeping." He commanded them to bring their mantles +and make a bed upon the altar-pace. Thereon they +laid the maiden, and having wrapped her close in her +lover's cloak, left her alone. When the moment came +for Eliduc to take farewell of his lady, he deemed that +his own last hour had come. He kissed her eyes and her +face.</p> + +<p>"Fair friend," said he, "if it be pleasing to God, +never will I bear sword or lance again, or seek the +pleasures of this mortal world. Fair friend, in an ill +hour you saw me! Sweet lady, in a bitter hour you +followed me to death! Fairest, now were you a queen, +were it not for the pure and loyal love you set upon me? +Passing sad of heart am I for you, my friend. The hour +that I have seen you in your shroud, I will take the +habit of some holy order, and every day, upon your +tomb, I will tell over the chaplet of my sorrow."</p> + +<p>Having taken farewell of the maiden, Eliduc came +forth from the chapel, and closed the doors. He sent +messages to his wife, that he was returning to his house, +but weary and overborne. When the dame heard these +tidings, she was happy in her heart, and made ready +to greet him. She received her lord tenderly; but +little joy came of her welcome, for she got neither smiles +in answer, nor tender words in return. She dared not +inquire the reason, during the two days Eliduc remained +in the house. The knight heard Mass very early in the +morning, and then set forth on the road leading to the +chapel where the maiden lay. He found her as he had +parted, for she had not come back from her swoon, +and there was neither stir in her, nor breath. He +marvelled greatly, for he saw her, vermeil and white, +as he had known her in life. She had lost none of her +sweet colour, save that she was a little blanched. He +wept bitterly above her, and entreated for her soul. +Having made his prayer, he went again to his house.</p> + +<p>On a day when Eliduc went forth, his wife called to +her a varlet of her household, commanding him to +follow his lord afar off, and mark where he went, and +on what business. She promised to give him harness +and horses, if he did according to her will. The varlet +hid himself in the wood, and followed so cunningly +after his lord, that he was not perceived. He watched +the knight enter the chapel, and heard the cry and +lamentation that he made. When Eliduc came out, the +varlet hastened to his mistress, and told her what he +had seen, the tears and dolour, and all that befell his +lord within the hermitage. The lady summoned all her +courage.</p> + +<p>"We will go together, as soon as we may, to this +hermitage. My lord tells me that he rides presently to +the Court to speak with the King. I knew that my +husband loved this dead hermit very tenderly, but I +little thought that his loss would make him mad with +grief."</p> + +<p>The next day the dame let her lord go forth in peace. +When, about noon, Eliduc rode to the Court to greet +his King, the lady rose quickly, and carrying the varlet +with her, went swiftly to the hermitage. She entered +the chapel, and saw the bed upon the altar-pace, and +the maiden thereon, like a new sprung rose. Stooping +down the lady removed the mantle. She marked the +rigid body, the long arms, and the frail white hands, +with their slender fingers, folded on the breast. Thus +she learned the secret of the sorrow of her lord. She +called the varlet within the chapel, and showed him +this wonder.</p> + +<p>"Seest thou," she said, "this woman, who for beauty +shineth as a gem! This lady, in her life, was the lover +of my lord. It was for her that all his days were spoiled +by grief. By my faith I marvel little at his sorrow, +since I, who am a woman too, will—for pity's sake or +love—never know joy again, having seen so fair a lady +in the dust."</p> + +<p>So the wife wept above the body of the maiden. +Whilst the lady sat weeping, a weasel came from under +the altar, and ran across Guillardun's body. The varlet +smote it with his staff, and killed it as it passed. He +took the vermin and flung it away. The companion +of this weasel presently came forth to seek him. She +ran to the place where he lay, and finding that he would +not get him on his feet, seemed as one distraught. +She went forth from the chapel, and hastened to the +wood, from whence she returned quickly, bearing a +vermeil flower beneath her teeth. This red flower she +placed within the mouth of that weasel the varlet had +slain, and immediately he stood upon his feet. When +the lady saw this, she cried to the varlet,</p> + +<p>"Throw, man, throw, and gain the flower."</p> + +<p>The servitor flung his staff, and the weasels fled away, +leaving that fair flower upon the floor. The lady rose. +She took the flower, and returned with it swiftly to the +altar pace. Within the mouth of the maiden, she set +a flower that was more vermeil still. For a short space +the dame and the damsel were alike breathless. Then +the maiden came to herself, with a sigh. She opened +her eyes, and commenced to speak.</p> + +<p>"Diva," she said, "have I slept so long, indeed!"</p> + +<p>When the lady heard her voice she gave thanks to +God. She inquired of the maiden as to her name and +degree. The damsel made answer to her, +"Lady, I was born in Logres, and am daughter to +the King of that realm. Greatly there I loved a knight, +named Eliduc, the seneschal of my sire. We fled together +from my home, to my own most grievous fault. +He never told me that he was wedded to a wife in his +own country, and he hid the matter so cunningly, that +I knew naught thereof. When I heard tell of his dame, +I swooned for pure sorrow. Now I find that this false +lover, has, like a felon, betrayed me in a strange land. +What will chance to a maiden in so foul a plight? Great +is that woman's folly who puts her trust in man."</p> + +<p>"Fair damsel," replied the lady, "there is nothing +in the whole world that can give such joy to this felon, +as to hear that you are yet alive. He deems that you +are dead, and every day he beweeps your swoon in the +chapel. I am his wife, and my heart is sick, just for +looking on his sorrow. To learn the reason of his grief, +I caused him to be followed, and that is why I have +found you here. It is a great happiness for me to +know that you live. You shall return with me to my +home, and I will place you in the tenderness of your +friend. Then I shall release him of his marriage troth, +since it is my dearest hope to take the veil."</p> + +<p>When the wife had comforted the maiden with such +words, they went together to her own house. She called +to her servitor, and bade him seek his lord. The varlet +went here and there, till he lighted on Eliduc. He +came before him, and showed him of all these things. +Eliduc mounted straightway on his horse, and waiting +neither for squire or companion, that same night came +to his hall. When he found alive, her, who once was +dead, Eliduc thanked his wife for so dear a gift. He +rejoiced beyond measure, and of all his days, no day +was more happy than this. He kissed the maiden +often, and very sweetly she gave him again his kiss, +for great was the joy between the twain. The dame +looked on their happiness, and knew that her lord +meetly had bestowed his love. She prayed him, therefore, +that he would grant her leave to depart, since she would +serve God as a cloistered nun. Of his wealth she craved +such a portion as would permit her to found a convent. +He would then be able to wed the maiden on whom his +heart was set, for it was neither honest nor seemly that +a man should maintain a wife with either hand.</p> + +<p>Eliduc could do no otherwise than consent. He gave +the permission she asked, and did all according to her +will. He endowed the lady of his lands, near by that +chapel and hermitage, within the wood. There he built +a church with offices and refectory, fair to see. Much +wealth he bestowed on the convent, in money and estate. +When all was brought to a good end, the lady took the +veil upon her head. Thirty other ladies entered in the +house with her, and long she ruled them as their Abbess, +right wisely and well.</p> + +<p>Eliduc wedded with his friend, in great pomp, and +passing rich was the marriage feast. They dwelt in +unity together for many days, for ever between them +was perfect love. They walked uprightly, and gave +alms of their goods, till such a time as it became them +to turn to God. After much thought, Eliduc built a +great church close beside his castle. He endowed it +with all his gold and silver, and with the rest of his +land. He set priests there, and holy layfolk also, for +the business of the house, and the fair services of religion.</p> + +<p>When all was builded and ordered, Eliduc offered himself, +with them, that he—weak man—might serve the +omnipotent God. He set with the Abbess Guildeluec +—who once was his dame—that wife whom he loved +so dearly well. The Abbess received her as a sister, +and welcomed her right honourably. She admonished +her in the offices of God, and taught her of the rules +and practice of their holy Order. They prayed to God +for their friend, that He would grant him mercy in His +day. In turn, he entreated God for them. Messages +came from convent and monastery as to how they fared, +so that each might encourage the other in His way. +Each strove painfully, for himself and his, to love God +the more dearly, and to abide in His holy faith. Each +made a good end, and the mercy of God was abundantly +made clear to all.</p> + +<p>Of the adventure of these three lovers, the courteous +Bretons made this Lay for remembrance, since they +deemed it a matter that men should not forget.</p> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="V"></a><h2>V.</h2> +<br> + +<p>THE LAY OF THE NIGHTINGALE</p> + +<p>Now will I tell you a story, whereof the Breton harper +already has made a Lay. Laustic, I deem, men name +it in that country, which, being interpreted, means rossignol +in French, and nightingale in good plain English.</p> + +<p>In the realm of Brittany stands a certain rich and +mighty city, called Saint Malo. There were citizens +of this township two knights, so well spoken and reputed +of all, that the city drew therefrom great profit and fame. +The houses of these lords were very near the one to the +other. One of the two knights had to wife a passing fair +lady, right gracious of manner and sweet of tongue. +Wondrous pleasure found this dame to array herself +richly, after the wont and fashion of her time. The other +knight was yet a bachelor. He was well accounted of +amongst his fellows as a hardy knight and as an honourable +man. He gave hospitality gladly. Largely he +gained, largely he spent, and willingly bestowed gifts of +all that he had.</p> + +<p>This bachelor set his love upon his neighbour's wife. +By reason of his urgent prayers, his long suit and service, +and by reason that all men spake naught of him but +praise—perchance, also, for reason that he was never far +from her eye—presently this lady came to set her heart +on him again. Though these two friends loved right +tenderly, yet were they so private and careful in their +loves that none perceived what was in their hearts. No +man pried on them, or disturbed their goings and comings. +These were the more easy to devise since the bachelor +and the lady were such near neighbours. Their two +houses stood side by side, hall and cellar and combles. +Only between the gardens was built a high and ancient +wall, of worn gray stone. When the lady sat within her +bower, by leaning from the casement she and her +friend might speak together, he to her, and she to +him. They could also throw messages in writing, and +divers pretty gifts, the one to the other. Little enough +had they to displease them, and greatly were they at their +ease, save only that they might not take their pleasure +together, so often as their hearts had wished. For the +dame was guarded very straitly when her husband +was abroad. Yet not so strictly but that they might +have word and speech, the now by night and now +by day. At least, however close the watch and ward, none +might hinder that at times these fair lovers stood within +their casements, and looked fondly on the other's face.</p> + +<p>Now after these friends had loved for a great space it +chanced that the season became warm and sweet. It +was the time when meadow and copse are green; when +orchards grow white with bloom, and birds break into +song as thickly as the bush to flower. It is the season +when he who loves would win to his desire. Truly I tell +you that the knight would have done all in his power to +attain his wish, and the lady, for her part, yearned for +sight and speech of her friend. At night, when the moon +shone clearly in the sky, and her lord lay sleeping at +her side, often the dame slipped softly from her bed, +and hastening to the casement, leaned forth to have +sight of him who watched. The greater part of the +dark they kept vigil together, for very pleasant it is to +look upon your friend, when sweeter things are denied.</p> + +<p>This chanced so often, and the lady rose so frequently +from her bed, that her lord was altogether wrathful, and +many a time inquired the reason of her unrest.</p> + +<p>"Husband," replied the dame, "there is no dearer joy +in this world, than to hear the nightingale sing. It +is to hearken to the song that rises so sweetly on the +night, that I lean forth from the casement. What tune +of harp or viol is half so fair! Because of my delight +in his song, and of my desire to hear, I may not shut +my eyes till it be morn."</p> + +<p>When the husband heard the lady's words he laughed +within himself for wrath and malice. He purposed +that very soon the nightingale should sing within +a net. So he bade the servants of his house to devise +fillets and snares, and to set their cunning traps about +the orchard. Not a chestnut tree nor hazel within +the garth but was limed and netted for the caging +of this bird. It was not long therefore ere the nightingale +was taken, and the servants made haste to give +him to the pleasure of their lord. Wondrous merry +was the knight when he held him living in his hand. +He went straightway to the chamber of his dame, and +entering, said,</p> + +<p>"Wife, are you within? Come near, for I must speak +with you. Here is the nightingale, all limed and taken, +who made vigil of your sleeping hours. Take now your +rest in peace, for he will never disturb you more."</p> + +<p>When the lady understood these words she was +marvellously sorrowful and heavy. She prayed her +lord to grant her the nightingale for a gift. But for +all answer he wrung his neck with both hands so fiercely +that the head was torn from the body. Then, right foully, +he flung the bird upon the knees of the dame, in such +fashion that her breast was sprinkled with the blood. +So he departed, incontinent, from the chamber in a rage.</p> + +<p>The lady took the little body in her hands, and wept +his evil fate. She railed on those who with nets and +snares had betrayed the nightingale to his death; for +anger and hate beyond measure had gained hold on +her heart.</p> + +<p>"Alas," cried she, "evil is come upon me. Never +again may I rise from my bed in the night, and watch +from the casement, so that I may see my friend. One +thing I know full well, that he will deem my love is no +more set upon him. Woe to her who has none to give +her counsel. This I will do. I will bestow the nightingale +upon him, and send him tidings of the chance that has +befallen."</p> + +<p>So this doleful lady took a fair piece of white samite, +broidered with gold, and wrought thereon the whole +story of this adventure. In this silken cloth she wrapped +the body of the little bird, and calling to her a trusty +servant of her house, charged him with the message, +and bade him bear it to her friend. The varlet went +his way to the knight, and having saluted him on the +part of the lady, he told over to him the story, and +bestowed the nightingale upon him. When all had been +rehearsed and shown to him, and he had well considered +the matter, the knight was very dolent; yet in no +wise would he avenge himself wrongfully. So he caused +a certain coffret to be fashioned, made not of iron or steel, +but of fine gold and fair stones, most rich and precious, +right strongly clasped and bound. In this little chest +he set the body of the nightingale, and having sealed +the shrine, carried it upon him whenever his business +took him abroad.</p> + +<p>This adventure could not long be hid. Very swiftly +it was noised about the country, and the Breton folk +made a Lay thereon, which they called the Lay of the +Laustic, in their own tongue.</p> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="VI"></a><h2>VI</h2> + +<p>THE LAY OF SIR LAUNFAL</p> + +<p>I will tell you the story of another Lay. It relates the +adventures of a rich and mighty baron, and the Breton +calls it, the Lay of Sir Launfal.</p> + +<p>King Arthur—that fearless knight and courteous +lord—removed to Wales, and lodged at Caerleon-on-Usk, +since the Picts and Scots did much mischief in the land. +For it was the wont of the wild people of the north to +enter in the realm of Logres, and burn and damage +at their will. At the time of Pentecost, the King cried +a great feast. Thereat he gave many rich gifts to his +counts and barons, and to the Knights of the Round +Table. Never were such worship and bounty shown +before at any feast, for Arthur bestowed honours and +lands on all his servants—save only on one. This lord, +who was forgotten and misliked of the King, was +named Launfal. He was beloved by many of the Court, +because of his beauty and prowess, for he was a worthy +knight, open of heart and heavy of hand. These lords, +to whom their comrade was dear, felt little joy to see so +stout a knight misprized. Sir Launfal was son to a King +of high descent, though his heritage was in a distant +land. He was of the King's household, but since Arthur +gave him naught, and he was of too proud a mind to +pray for his due, he had spent all that he had. Right +heavy was Sir Launfal, when he considered these things, +for he knew himself taken in the toils. Gentles, marvel +not overmuch hereat. Ever must the pilgrim go heavily +in a strange land, where there is none to counsel and +direct him in the path.</p> + +<p>Now, on a day, Sir Launfal got him on his horse, +that he might take his pleasure for a little. He came +forth from the city, alone, attended by neither servant +nor squire. He went his way through a green mead, +till he stood by a river of clear running water. Sir +Launfal would have crossed this stream, without thought +of pass or ford, but he might not do so, for reason that +his horse was all fearful and trembling. Seeing that he +was hindered in this fashion, Launfal unbitted his steed, +and let him pasture in that fair meadow, where they +had come. Then he folded his cloak to serve him as a +pillow, and lay upon the ground. Launfal lay in great +misease, because of his heavy thoughts, and the discomfort +of his bed. He turned from side to side, and +might not sleep. Now as the knight looked towards +the river he saw two damsels coming towards him; +fairer maidens Launfal had never seen. These two +maidens were richly dressed in kirtles closely laced and +shapen to their persons and wore mantles of a goodly +purple hue. Sweet and dainty were the damsels, alike +in raiment and in face. The elder of these ladies carried +in her hands a basin of pure gold, cunningly wrought +by some crafty smith—very fair and precious was the +cup; and the younger bore a towel of soft white linen. +These maidens turned neither to the right hand nor to +the left, but went directly to the place where Launfal +lay. When Launfal saw that their business was with +him, he stood upon his feet, like a discreet and courteous +gentleman. After they had greeted the knight, one +of the maidens delivered the message with which she +was charged.</p> + +<p>"Sir Launfal, my demoiselle, as gracious as she is +fair, prays that you will follow us, her messengers, as +she has a certain word to speak with you. We will +lead you swiftly to her pavilion, for our lady is very +near at hand. If you but lift your eyes you may see +where her tent is spread."</p> + +<p>Right glad was the knight to do the bidding of the +maidens. He gave no heed to his horse, but left him +at his provand in the meadow. All his desire was to +go with the damsels, to that pavilion of silk and divers +colours, pitched in so fair a place. Certainly neither +Semiramis in the days of her most wanton power, +nor Octavian, the Emperor of all the West, had so +gracious a covering from sun and rain. Above the tent +was set an eagle of gold, so rich and precious, that none +might count the cost. The cords and fringes thereof were +of silken thread, and the lances which bore aloft the +pavilion were of refined gold. No King on earth might +have so sweet a shelter, not though he gave in fee the +value of his realm. Within this pavilion Launfal came +upon the Maiden. Whiter she was than any altar lily, +and more sweetly flushed than the new born rose in +time of summer heat. She lay upon a bed with napery +and coverlet of richer worth than could be furnished +by a castle's spoil. Very fresh and slender showed the +lady in her vesture of spotless linen. About her person +she had drawn a mantle of ermine, edged with purple +dye from the vats of Alexandria. By reason of the heat +her raiment was unfastened for a little, and her throat +and the rondure of her bosom showed whiter and more +untouched than hawthorn in May. The knight came +before the bed, and stood gazing on so sweet a sight. +The Maiden beckoned him to draw near, and when he had +seated himself at the foot of her couch, spoke her mind.</p> + +<p>"Launfal," she said, "fair friend, it is for you that +I have come from my own far land. I bring you my +love. If you are prudent and discreet, as you are goodly +to the view, there is no emperor nor count, nor king, +whose day shall be so filled with riches and with mirth +as yours."</p> + +<p>When Launfal heard these words he rejoiced greatly, +for his heart was litten by another's torch.</p> + +<p>"Fair lady," he answered, "since it pleases you to +be so gracious, and to dower so graceless a knight with +your love, there is naught that you may bid me do—right +or wrong, evil or good—that I will not do to the +utmost of my power. I will observe your commandment, +and serve in your quarrels. For you I renounce my +father and my father's house. This only I pray, that +I may dwell with you in your lodging, and that you will +never send me from your side."</p> + +<p>When the Maiden heard the words of him whom so +fondly she desired to love, she was altogether moved, +and granted him forthwith her heart and her tenderness. +To her bounty she added another gift besides. +Never might Launfal be desirous of aught, but he would +have according to his wish. He might waste and spend +at will and pleasure, but in his purse ever there was to +spare. No more was Launfal sad. Right merry was the +pilgrim, since one had set him on the way, with such +a gift, that the more pennies he bestowed, the more +silver and gold were in his pouch.</p> + +<p>But the Maiden had yet a word to say.</p> + +<p>"Friend," she said, "hearken to my counsel. I lay this +charge upon you, and pray you urgently, that you tell +not to any man the secret of our love. If you show this +matter, you will lose your friend, for ever and a day. +Never again may you see my face. Never again will +you have seisin of that body, which is now so tender +in your eyes."</p> + +<p>Launfal plighted faith, that right strictly he would +observe this commandment. So the Maiden granted him +her kiss and her embrace, and very sweetly in that fair +lodging passed the day till evensong was come.</p> + +<p>Right loath was Launfal to depart from the pavilion +at the vesper hour, and gladly would he have stayed, +had he been able, and his lady wished.</p> + +<p>"Fair friend," said she, "rise up, for no longer +may you tarry. The hour is come that we must part. +But one thing I have to say before you go. When you +would speak with me I shall hasten to come before +your wish. Well I deem that you will only call your +friend where she may be found without reproach or +shame of men. You may see me at your pleasure; my +voice shall speak softly in your ear at will; but I must +never be known of your comrades, nor must they ever +learn my speech."</p> + +<p>Right joyous was Launfal to hear this thing. He +sealed the covenant with a kiss, and stood upon his +feet. Then there entered the two maidens who had led +him to the pavilion, bringing with them rich raiment, +fitting for a knight's apparel. When Launfal had clothed +himself therewith, there seemed no goodlier varlet under +heaven, for certainly he was fair and true. After these +maidens had refreshed him with clear water, and dried +his hands upon the napkin, Launfal went to meat. +His friend sat at table with him, and small will had he +to refuse her courtesy. Very serviceably the damsels +bore the meats, and Launfal and the Maiden ate and +drank with mirth and content. But one dish was more +to the knight's relish than any other. Sweeter than +the dainties within his mouth, was the lady's kiss upon +his lips.</p> + +<p>When supper was ended, Launfal rose from table, +for his horse stood waiting without the pavilion. The +destrier was newly saddled and bridled, and showed +proudly in his rich gay trappings. So Launfal kissed, +and bade farewell, and went his way. He rode back +towards the city at a slow pace. Often he checked his +steed, and looked behind him, for he was filled with +amazement, and all bemused concerning this adventure. +In his heart he doubted that it was but a dream. He +was altogether astonished, and knew not what to do. +He feared that pavilion and Maiden alike were from the +realm of faery.</p> + +<p>Launfal returned to his lodging, and was greeted by +servitors, clad no longer in ragged raiment. He fared +richly, lay softly, and spent largely, but never knew +how his purse was filled. There was no lord who had +need of a lodging in the town, but Launfal brought him +to his hall, for refreshment and delight. Launfal bestowed +rich gifts. Launfal redeemed the poor captive. +Launfal clothed in scarlet the minstrel. Launfal gave +honour where honour was due. Stranger and friend +alike he comforted at need. So, whether by night or by +day, Launfal lived greatly at his ease. His lady, she +came at will and pleasure, and, for the rest, all was added +unto him.</p> + +<p>Now it chanced, the same year, about the feast of St. +John, a company of knights came, for their solace, to +an orchard, beneath that tower where dwelt the Queen. +Together with these lords went Gawain and his cousin, +Yvain the fair. Then said Gawain, that goodly knight, +beloved and dear to all,</p> + +<p>"Lords, we do wrong to disport ourselves in this +pleasaunce without our comrade Launfal. It is not well +to slight a prince as brave as he is courteous, and of a +lineage prouder than our own."</p> + +<p>Then certain of the lords returned to the city, and +finding Launfal within his hostel, entreated him to +take his pastime with them in that fair meadow. The +Queen looked out from a window in her tower, she and +three ladies of her fellowship. They saw the lords at +their pleasure, and Launfal also, whom well they knew. +So the Queen chose of her Court thirty damsels—the +sweetest of face and most dainty of fashion—and commanded +that they should descend with her to take their +delight in the garden. When the knights beheld this +gay company of ladies come down the steps of the +perron, they rejoiced beyond measure. They hastened +before to lead them by the hand, and said such words +in their ear as were seemly and pleasant to be spoken. +Amongst these merry and courteous lords hasted not +Sir Launfal. He drew apart from the throng, for with +him time went heavily, till he might have clasp and +greeting of his friend. The ladies of the Queen's fellowship +seemed but kitchen wenches to his sight, in comparison +with the loveliness of the maiden. When the +Queen marked Launfal go aside, she went his way, +and seating herself upon the herb, called the knight +before her. Then she opened out her heart.</p> + +<p>"Launfal, I have honoured you for long as a worthy +knight, and have praised and cherished you very dearly. +You may receive a queen's whole love, if such be your +care. Be content: he to whom my heart is given, +has small reason to complain him of the alms."</p> + +<p>"Lady," answered the knight, "grant me leave to +go, for this grace is not for me. I am the King's man, +and dare not break my troth. Not for the highest +lady in the world, not even for her love, will I set this +reproach upon my lord."</p> + +<p>When the Queen heard this, she was full of wrath, +and spoke many hot and bitter words.</p> + +<p>"Launfal," she cried, "well I know that you think +little of woman and her love. There are sins more black +that a man may have upon his soul. Traitor you are, +and false. Right evil counsel gave they to my lord, +who prayed him to suffer you about his person. You +remain only for his harm and loss."</p> + +<p>Launfal was very dolent to hear this thing. He was +not slow to take up the Queen's glove, and in his haste +spake words that he repented long, and with tears.</p> + +<p>"Lady," said he, "I am not of that guild of which +you speak. Neither am I a despiser of woman, since +I love, and am loved, of one who would bear the prize +from all the ladies in the land. Dame, know now and +be persuaded, that she, whom I serve, is so rich in state, +that the very meanest of her maidens, excels you, +Lady Queen, as much in clerkly skill and goodness, +as in sweetness of body and face, and in every +virtue."</p> + +<p>The Queen rose straightway to her feet, and fled to +her chamber, weeping. Right wrathful and heavy was +she, because of the words that had besmirched her. +She lay sick upon her bed, from which, she said, she +would never rise, till the King had done her justice, +and righted this bitter wrong. Now the King that day +had taken his pleasure within the woods. He returned +from the chase towards evening, and sought the chamber +of the Queen. When the lady saw him, she sprang from +her bed, and kneeling at his feet, pleaded for grace and +pity. Launfal—she said—had shamed her, since he +required her love. When she had put him by, very +foully had he reviled her, boasting that his love was +already set on a lady, so proud and noble, that her +meanest wench went more richly, and smiled more +sweetly, than the Queen. Thereat the King waxed +marvellously wrathful, and swore a great oath that he +would set Launfal within a fire, or hang him from a +tree, if he could not deny this thing, before his peers.</p> + +<p>Arthur came forth from the Queen's chamber, and +called to him three of his lords. These he sent to seek +the knight who so evilly had entreated the Queen. +Launfal, for his part, had returned to his lodging, in +a sad and sorrowful case. He saw very clearly that he +had lost his friend, since he had declared their love to +men. Launfal sat within his chamber, sick and heavy +of thought. Often he called upon his friend, but the +lady would not hear his voice. He bewailed his evil +lot, with tears; for grief he came nigh to swoon; a +hundred times he implored the Maiden that she would +deign to speak with her knight. Then, since the lady +yet refrained from speech, Launfal cursed his hot and +unruly tongue. Very near he came to ending all this +trouble with his knife. Naught he found to do but to +wring his hands, and call upon the Maiden, begging her +to forgive his trespass, and to talk with him again, as +friend to friend.</p> + +<p>But little peace is there for him who is harassed by +a King. There came presently to Launfal's hostel those +three barons from the Court. These bade the knight +forthwith to go with them to Arthur's presence, to acquit +him of this wrong against the Queen. Launfal went +forth, to his own deep sorrow. Had any man slain him +on the road, he would have counted him his friend. +He stood before the King, downcast and speechless, +being dumb by reason of that great grief, of which he +showed the picture and image.</p> + +<p>Arthur looked upon his captive very evilly.</p> + +<p>"Vassal," said he, harshly, "you have done me a +bitter wrong. It was a foul deed to seek to shame me +in this ugly fashion, and to smirch the honour of the +Queen. Is it folly or lightness which leads you to boast +of that lady, the least of whose maidens is fairer, and +goes more richly, than the Queen?"</p> + +<p>Launfal protested that never had he set such shame +upon his lord. Word by word he told the tale of how +he denied the Queen, within the orchard. But concerning +that which he had spoken of the lady, he owned the +truth, and his folly. The love of which he bragged was +now lost to him, by his own exceeding fault. He cared +little for his life, and was content to obey the judgment +of the Court.</p> + +<p>Right wrathful was the King at Launfal's words. +He conjured his barons to give him such wise counsel +herein, that wrong might be done to none. The lords +did the King's bidding, whether good came of the matter, +or evil. They gathered themselves together, and appointed +a certain day that Launfal should abide the +judgment of his peers. For his part Launfal must give +pledge and surety to his lord, that he would come before +this judgment in his own body. If he might not give +such surety then he should be held captive till the +appointed day. When the lords of the King's household +returned to tell him of their counsel, Arthur demanded +that Launfal should put such pledge in his hand, +as they had said. Launfal was altogether mazed and +bewildered at this judgment, for he had neither friend +nor kindred in the land. He would have been set in +prison, but Gawain came first to offer himself as his +surety, and with him, all the knights of his fellowship. +These gave into the King's hand as pledge, the fiefs and +lands that they held of his Crown. The King having +taken pledges from the sureties, Launfal returned to +his lodging, and with him certain knights of his company. +They blamed him greatly because of his foolish +love, and chastened him grievously by reason of the +sorrow he made before men. Every day they came to +his chamber, to know of his meat and drink, for much +they feared that presently he would become mad.</p> + +<p>The lords of the household came together on the day +appointed for this judgment. The King was on his chair, +with the Queen sitting at his side. The sureties brought +Launfal within the hall, and rendered him into the hands +of his peers. Right sorrowful were they because of his +plight. A great company of his fellowship did all that +they were able to acquit him of this charge. When all +was set out, the King demanded the judgment of the +Court, according to the accusation and the answer. +The barons went forth in much trouble and thought to +consider this matter. Many amongst them grieved +for the peril of a good knight in a strange land; others +held that it were well for Launfal to suffer, because of +the wish and malice of their lord. Whilst they were thus +perplexed, the Duke of Cornwall rose in the council, +and said,</p> + +<p>"Lords, the King pursues Launfal as a traitor, and +would slay him with the sword, by reason that he +bragged of the beauty of his maiden, and roused the +jealousy of the Queen. By the faith that I owe this +company, none complains of Launfal, save only the +King. For our part we would know the truth of this +business, and do justice between the King and his man. +We would also show proper reverence to our own liege +lord. Now, if it be according to Arthur's will, let us +take oath of Launfal, that he seek this lady, who has +put such strife between him and the Queen. If her +beauty be such as he has told us, the Queen will have +no cause for wrath. She must pardon Launfal for his +rudeness, since it will be plain that he did not speak +out of a malicious heart. Should Launfal fail his word, +and not return with the lady, or should her fairness +fall beneath his boast, then let him be cast off from our +fellowship, and be sent forth from the service of the +King."</p> + +<p>This counsel seemed good to the lords of the household. +They sent certain of his friends to Launfal, to acquaint +him with their judgment, bidding him to pray his damsel +to the Court, that he might be acquitted of this blame. +The knight made answer that in no wise could he do +this thing. So the sureties returned before the judges, +saying that Launfal hoped neither for refuge nor for +succour from the lady, and Arthur urged them to a +speedy ending, because of the prompting of the Queen.</p> + +<p>The judges were about to give sentence upon Launfal, +when they saw two maidens come riding towards the +palace, upon two white ambling palfreys. Very sweet +and dainty were these maidens, and richly clothed in +garments of crimson sendal, closely girt and fashioned +to their bodies. All men, old and young, looked willingly +upon them, for fair they were to see. Gawain, and three +knights of his company, went straight to Launfal, and +showed him these maidens, praying him to say which +of them was his friend. But he answered never a +word. The maidens dismounted from their palfreys, +and coming before the dais where the King was seated, +spake him fairly, as they were fair.</p> + +<p>"Sire, prepare now a chamber, hung with silken +cloths, where it is seemly for my lady to dwell; for she +would lodge with you awhile."</p> + +<p>This gift the King granted gladly. He called to him +two knights of his household, and bade them bestow +the maidens in such chambers as were fitting to their +degree. The maidens being gone, the King required +of his barons to proceed with their judgment, saying +that he had sore displeasure at the slowness of the cause.</p> + +<p>"Sire," replied the barons, "we rose from Council, +because of the damsels who entered in the hall. We +will at once resume the sitting, and give our judgment +without more delay."</p> + +<p>The barons again were gathered together, in much +thought and trouble, to consider this matter. There +was great strife and dissension amongst them, for they +knew not what to do. In the midst of all this noise and +tumult, there came two other damsels riding to the hall +on two Spanish mules. Very richly arrayed were these +damsels in raiment of fine needlework, and their kirtles +were covered by fresh fair mantles, embroidered with +gold. Great joy had Launfal's comrades when they +marked these ladies. They said between themselves +that doubtless they came for the succour of the good +knight. Gawain, and certain of his company, made +haste to Launfal, and said, +"Sir, be not cast down. Two ladies are near at +hand, right dainty of dress, and gracious of person. +Tell us truly, for the love of God, is one of these your +friend?"</p> + +<p>But Launfal answered very simply that never before +had he seen these damsels with his eyes, nor known and +loved them in his heart.</p> + +<p>The maidens dismounted from their mules, and +stood before Arthur, in the sight of all. Greatly were +they praised of many, because of their beauty, and of +the colour of their face and hair. Some there were who +deemed already that the Queen was overborne.</p> + +<p>The elder of the damsels carried herself modestly +and well, and sweetly told over the message wherewith +she was charged.</p> + +<p>"Sire, make ready for us chambers, where we may +abide with our lady, for even now she comes to speak +with thee."</p> + +<p>The King commanded that the ladies should be led +to their companions, and bestowed in the same honourable +fashion as they. Then he bade the lords of his +household to consider their judgment, since he would +endure no further respite. The Court already had given +too much time to the business, and the Queen was +growing wrathful, because of the blame that was hers. +Now the judges were about to proclaim their sentence, +when, amidst the tumult of the town, there came riding +to the palace the flower of all the ladies of the world. +She came mounted upon a palfrey, white as snow, +which carried her softly, as though she loved her burthen. +Beneath the sky was no goodlier steed, nor one more +gentle to the hand. The harness of the palfrey was so +rich, that no king on earth might hope to buy trappings +so precious, unless he sold or set his realm in pledge. +The Maiden herself showed such as I will tell you. +Passing slim was the lady, sweet of bodice and slender +of girdle. Her throat was whiter than snow on branch, +and her eyes were like flowers in the pallor of her face. +She had a witching mouth, a dainty nose, and an open +brow. Her eyebrows were brown, and her golden hair +parted in two soft waves upon her head. She was clad +in a shift of spotless linen, and above her snowy kirtle +was set a mantle of royal purple, clasped upon her breast. +She carried a hooded falcon upon her glove, and a greyhound +followed closely after. As the Maiden rode at a +slow pace through the streets of the city, there was +none, neither great nor small, youth nor sergeant, but +ran forth from his house, that he might content his +heart with so great beauty. Every man that saw her +with his eyes, marvelled at a fairness beyond that of +any earthly woman. Little he cared for any mortal +maiden, after he had seen this sight. The friends of +Sir Launfal hastened to the knight, to tell him of his +lady's succour, if so it were according to God's will.</p> + +<p>"Sir comrade, truly is not this your friend? This +lady is neither black nor golden, mean nor tall. She is +only the most lovely thing in all the world."</p> + +<p>When Launfal heard this, he sighed, for by their +words he knew again his friend. He raised his head, +and as the blood rushed to his face, speech flowed from +his lips.</p> + +<p>"By my faith," cried he, "yes, she is indeed my +friend. It is a small matter now whether men slay me, +or set me free; for I am made whole of my hurt just +by looking on her face."</p> + +<p>The Maiden entered in the palace—where none so +fair had come before—and stood before the King, in +the presence of his household. She loosed the clasp +of her mantle, so that men might the more easily perceive +the grace of her person. The courteous King +advanced to meet her, and all the Court got them on +their feet, and pained themselves in her service. When +the lords had gazed upon her for a space, and praised +the sum of her beauty, the lady spake to Arthur in this +fashion, for she was anxious to begone.</p> + +<p>"Sire, I have loved one of thy vassals,—the knight +who stands in bonds, Sir Launfal. He was always +misprized in thy Court, and his every action turned to +blame. What he said, that thou knowest; for over +hasty was his tongue before the Queen. But he never +craved her in love, however loud his boasting. I cannot +choose that he should come to hurt or harm by me. +In the hope of freeing Launfal from his bonds, I have +obeyed thy summons. Let now thy barons look boldly +upon my face, and deal justly in this quarrel between +the Queen and me."</p> + +<p>The King commanded that this should be done, and +looking upon her eyes, not one of the judges but was +persuaded that her favour exceeded that of the Queen.</p> + +<p>Since then Launfal had not spoken in malice against +his lady, the lords of the household gave him again his +sword. When the trial had come thus to an end the +Maiden took her leave of the King, and made her ready +to depart. Gladly would Arthur have had her lodge +with him for a little, and many a lord would have rejoiced +in her service, but she might not tarry. Now without +the hall stood a great stone of dull marble, where it +was the wont of lords, departing from the Court, to +climb into the saddle, and Launfal by the stone. The +Maiden came forth from the doors of the palace, and +mounting on the stone, seated herself on the palfrey, +behind her friend. Then they rode across the plain +together, and were no more seen.</p> + +<p>The Bretons tell that the knight was ravished by +his lady to an island, very dim and very fair, known +as Avalon. But none has had speech with Launfal and +his faery love since then, and for my part I can tell +you no more of the matter.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="VII"></a><h2>VII</h2> + +<p>THE LAY OF THE TWO LOVERS</p> +<br> + +<p>Once upon a time there lived in Normandy two lovers, +who were passing fond, and were brought by Love to +Death. The story of their love was bruited so abroad, +that the Bretons made a song in their own tongue, +and named this song the Lay of the Two Lovers.</p> + +<p>In Neustria—that men call Normandy—there is +verily a high and marvellously great mountain, where +lie the relics of the Two Children. Near this high place +the King of those parts caused to be built a certain fair +and cunning city, and since he was lord of the Pistrians, +it was known as Pistres. The town yet endures, with +its towers and houses, to bear witness to the truth; +moreover the country thereabouts is known to us all +as the Valley of Pistres.</p> + +<p>This King had one fair daughter, a damsel sweet of +face and gracious of manner, very near to her father's +heart, since he had lost his Queen. The maiden increased +in years and favour, but he took no heed to her trothing, +so that men—yea, even his own people—blamed him +greatly for this thing. When the King heard thereof +he was passing heavy and dolent, and considered within +himself how he might be delivered from this grief. So +then, that none should carry off his child, he caused +it to be proclaimed, both far and near, by script and trumpet, +that he alone should wed the maid, who would bear +her in his arms, to the pinnacle of the great and perilous +mountain, and that without rest or stay. When this +news was noised about the country, many came upon +the quest. But strive as they would they might not +enforce themselves more than they were able. However +mighty they were of body, at the last they failed upon +the mountain, and fell with their burthen to the ground. +Thus, for a while, was none so bold as to seek the high +Princess.</p> + +<p>Now in this country lived a squire, son to a certain +count of that realm, seemly of semblance and courteous, +and right desirous to win that prize, which was so +coveted of all. He was a welcome guest at the Court, +and the King talked with him very willingly. This +squire had set his heart upon the daughter of the King, +and many a time spoke in her ear, praying her to give +him again the love he had bestowed upon her. So +seeing him brave and courteous, she esteemed him for +the gifts which gained him the favour of the King, +and they loved together in their youth. But they +hid this matter from all about the Court. This thing +was very grievous to them, but the damoiseau thought +within himself that it were good to bear the pains he +knew, rather than to seek out others that might prove +sharper still. Yet in the end, altogether distraught by +love, this prudent varlet sought his friend, and showed +her his case, saying that he urgently required of her +that she would flee with him, for no longer could he +endure the weariness of his days. Should he ask her +of the King, well he knew that by reason of his love he +would refuse the gift, save he bore her in his arms up +the steep mount. Then the maiden made answer to +her lover, and said,</p> + +<p>"Fair friend, well I know you may not carry me to +that high place. Moreover should we take to flight, +my father would suffer wrath and sorrow beyond +measure, and go heavily all his days. Certainly my love +is too fond to plague him thus, and we must seek another +counsel, for this is not to my heart. Hearken well. +I have kindred in Salerno, of rich estate. For more +than thirty years my aunt has studied there the art +of medicine, and knows the secret gift of every root +and herb. If you hasten to her, bearing letters from +me, and show her your adventure, certainly she will +find counsel and cure. Doubt not that she will discover +some cunning simple, that will strengthen your body, +as well as comfort your heart. Then return to this +realm with your potion, and ask me at my father's +hand. He will deem you but a stripling, and set forth +the terms of his bargain, that to him alone shall I be +given who knows how to climb the perilous mountain, +without pause or rest, bearing his lady between his +arms."</p> + +<p>When the varlet heard this cunning counsel of the +maiden, he rejoiced greatly, and thanking her sweetly +for her rede, craved permission to depart. He returned +to his own home, and gathering together a goodly store +of silken cloths most precious, he bestowed his gear +upon the pack horses, and made him ready for the road. +So with a little company of men, mounted on swift +palfreys, and most privy to his mind, he arrived at +Salerno. Now the squire made no long stay at his +lodging, but as soon as he might, went to the damsel's +kindred to open out his mind. He delivered to the +aunt the letters he carried from his friend, and bewailed +their evil case. When the dame had read these letters +with him, line by line, she charged him to lodge with +her awhile, till she might do according to his wish. +So by her sorceries, and for the love of her maid, she +brewed such a potion that no man, however wearied +and outworn, but by drinking this philtre, would not +be refreshed in heart and blood and bones. Such virtue +had this medicine, directly it were drunken. This simple +she poured within a little flacket, and gave it to the +varlet, who received the gift with great joy and delight, +and returned swiftly to his own land.</p> + +<p>The varlet made no long sojourn in his home. He +repaired straightway to the Court, and, seeking out the +King, required of him his fair daughter in marriage, +promising, for his part, that were she given him, he +would bear her in his arms to the summit of the mount. +The King was no wise wrath at his presumption. He +smiled rather at his folly, for how should one so young +and slender succeed in a business wherein so many +mighty men had failed. Therefore he appointed a +certain day for this judgment. Moreover he caused letters +to be written to his vassals and his friends—passing +none by—bidding them to see the end of this adventure. +Yea, with public cry and sound of trumpet he bade all +who would, come to behold the stripling carry his fair +daughter to the pinnacle of the mountain. And from +every region round about men came to learn the issue +of this thing. But for her part the fair maiden did all +that she was able to bring her love to a good end. Ever +was it fast day and fleshless day with her, so that by +any means she might lighten the burthen that her +friend must carry in his arms.</p> + +<p>Now on the appointed day this young dansellon came +very early to the appointed place, bringing the flacket +with him. When the great company were fully met +together, the King led forth his daughter before them; +and all might see that she was arrayed in nothing but +her smock. The varlet took the maiden in his arms, +but first he gave her the flask with the precious brewage +to carry, since for pride he might not endure to drink +therefrom, save at utmost peril. The squire set forth +at a great pace, and climbed briskly till he was halfway +up the mount. Because of the joy he had in +clasping his burthen, he gave no thought to the +potion. But she—she knew the strength was failing in +his heart.</p> + +<p>"Fair friend," said she, "well I know that you tire: +drink now, I pray you, of the flacket, and so shall your +manhood come again at need."</p> + +<p>But the varlet answered,</p> + +<p>"Fair love, my heart is full of courage; nor for any +reason will I pause, so long as I can hold upon my way. +It is the noise of all this folk—the tumult and the +shouting—that makes my steps uncertain. Their cries +distress me, I do not dare to stand."</p> + +<p>But when two thirds of the course was won, the grasshopper +would have tripped him off his feet. Urgently +and often the maiden prayed him, saying,</p> + +<p>"Fair friend, drink now of thy cordial."</p> + +<p>But he would neither hear, nor give credence to her +words. A mighty anguish filled his bosom. He climbed +upon the summit of the mountain, and pained himself +grievously to bring his journey to an end. This he might +not do. He reeled and fell, nor could he rise again, for +the heart had burst within his breast.</p> + +<p>When the maiden saw her lover's piteous plight, she +deemed that he had swooned by reason of his pain. +She kneeled hastily at his side, and put the enchanted +brewage to his lips, but he could neither drink nor speak, +for he was dead, as I have told you. She bewailed his +evil lot, with many shrill cries, and flung the useless +flacket far away. The precious potion bestrewed the +ground, making a garden of that desolate place. For +many saving herbs have been found there since that day +by the simple folk of that country, which from the +magic philtre derived all their virtue.</p> + +<p>But when the maiden knew that her lover was dead, +she made such wondrous sorrow, as no man had ever +seen. She kissed his eyes and mouth, and falling upon +his body, took him in her arms, and pressed him closely +to her breast. There was no heart so hard as not to +be touched by her sorrow; for in this fashion died a +dame, who was fair and sweet and gracious, beyond +the wont of the daughters of men.</p> + +<p>Now the King and his company, since these two +lovers came not again, presently climbed the mountain +to learn their end. But when the King came upon +them lifeless, and fast in that embrace, incontinent he +fell to the ground, bereft of sense. After his speech +had returned to him, he was passing heavy, and lamented +their doleful case, and thus did all his people with him.</p> + +<p>Three days they kept the bodies of these two fair +children from earth, with uncovered face. On the +third day they sealed them fast in a goodly coffin of +marble, and by the counsel of all men, laid them softly +to rest on that mountain where they died. Then they +departed from them, and left them together, alone.</p> + +<p>Since this adventure of the Two Children this hill +is known as the Mountain of the Two Lovers, and their +story being bruited abroad, the Breton folk have made +a Lay thereof, even as I have rehearsed before you.</p> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="VIII"></a><h2>VIII</h2> + +<p>THE LAY OF THE WERE-WOLF</p> +<br> + +<p>Amongst the tales I tell you once again, I would not +forget the Lay of the Were-Wolf. Such beasts as he are +known in every land. Bisclavaret he is named in +Brittany; whilst the Norman calls him Garwal.</p> + +<p>It is a certain thing, and within the knowledge of +all, that many a christened man has suffered this change, +and ran wild in woods, as a Were-Wolf. The Were-Wolf +is a fearsome beast. He lurks within the thick +forest, mad and horrible to see. All the evil that he +may, he does. He goeth to and fro, about the solitary +place, seeking man, in order to devour him. Hearken, +now, to the adventure of the Were-Wolf, that I have +to tell.</p> + +<p>In Brittany there dwelt a baron who was marvellously +esteemed of all his fellows. He was a stout knight, and +a comely, and a man of office and repute. Right +private was he to the mind of his lord, and dear to the +counsel of his neighbours. This baron was wedded +to a very worthy dame, right fair to see, and sweet of +semblance. All his love was set on her, and all her love +was given again to him. One only grief had this lady. +For three whole days in every week her lord was absent +from her side. She knew not where he went, nor on +what errand. Neither did any of his house know the +business which called him forth.</p> + +<p>On a day when this lord was come again to his house, +altogether joyous and content, the lady took him to +task, right sweetly, in this fashion, +"Husband," said she, "and fair, sweet friend, I have +a certain thing to pray of you. Right willingly would I +receive this gift, but I fear to anger you in the asking. +It is better for me to have an empty hand, than to gain +hard words."</p> + +<p>When the lord heard this matter, he took the lady +in his arms, very tenderly, and kissed her.</p> + +<p>"Wife," he answered, "ask what you will. What +would you have, for it is yours already?"</p> + +<p>"By my faith," said the lady, "soon shall I be +whole. Husband, right long and wearisome are the +days that you spend away from your home. I rise +from my bed in the morning, sick at heart, I know +not why. So fearful am I, lest you do aught to +your loss, that I may not find any comfort. Very +quickly shall I die for reason of my dread. Tell me +now, where you go, and on what business! How may +the knowledge of one who loves so closely, bring you +to harm?"</p> + +<p>"Wife," made answer the lord, "nothing but evil +can come if I tell you this secret. For the mercy of +God do not require it of me. If you but knew, you +would withdraw yourself from my love, and I should be +lost indeed."</p> + +<p>When the lady heard this, she was persuaded that +her baron sought to put her by with jesting words. +Therefore she prayed and required him the more urgently, +with tender looks and speech, till he was overborne, and +told her all the story, hiding naught.</p> + +<p>"Wife, I become Bisclavaret. I enter in the forest, +and live on prey and roots, within the thickest of the +wood."</p> + +<p>After she had learned his secret, she prayed and +entreated the more as to whether he ran in his raiment, +or went spoiled of vesture.</p> + +<p>"Wife," said he, "I go naked as a beast."</p> + +<p>"Tell me, for hope of grace, what you do with your +clothing?"</p> + +<p>"Fair wife, that will I never. If I should lose my +raiment, or even be marked as I quit my vesture, +then a Were-Wolf I must go for all the days of my life. +Never again should I become man, save in that hour +my clothing were given back to me. For this reason +never will I show my lair."</p> + +<p>"Husband," replied the lady to him, "I love you +better than all the world. The less cause have you for +doubting my faith, or hiding any tittle from me. What +savour is here of friendship? How have I made forfeit +of your love; for what sin do you mistrust my honour? +Open now your heart, and tell what is good to be +known."</p> + +<p>So at the end, outwearied and overborne by her +importunity, he could no longer refrain, but told her all.</p> + +<p>"Wife," said he, "within this wood, a little from +the path, there is a hidden way, and at the end thereof +an ancient chapel, where oftentimes I have bewailed my +lot. Near by is a great hollow stone, concealed by a +bush, and there is the secret place where I hide my +raiment, till I would return to my own home."</p> + +<p>On hearing this marvel the lady became sanguine of +visage, because of her exceeding fear. She dared no +longer to lie at his side, and turned over in her mind, +this way and that, how best she could get her from him. +Now there was a certain knight of those parts, who, for +a great while, had sought and required this lady for +her love. This knight had spent long years in her service, +but little enough had he got thereby, not even fair +words, or a promise. To him the dame wrote a letter, +and meeting, made her purpose plain.</p> + +<p>"Fair friend," said she, "be happy. That which +you have coveted so long a time, I will grant without +delay. Never again will I deny your suit. My heart, +and all I have to give, are yours, so take me now as +love and dame."</p> + +<p>Right sweetly the knight thanked her for her grace, +and pledged her faith and fealty. When she had confirmed +him by an oath, then she told him all this business +of her lord—why he went, and what he became, and +of his ravening within the wood. So she showed him +of the chapel, and of the hollow stone, and of how to +spoil the Were-Wolf of his vesture. Thus, by the kiss +of his wife, was Bisclavaret betrayed. Often enough +had he ravished his prey in desolate places, but from +this journey he never returned. His kinsfolk and +acquaintance came together to ask of his tidings, when +this absence was noised abroad. Many a man, on many +a day, searched the woodland, but none might find him, +nor learn where Bisclavaret was gone.</p> + +<p>The lady was wedded to the knight who had cherished +her for so long a space. More than a year had passed +since Bisclavaret disappeared. Then it chanced that +the King would hunt in that self-same wood where the +Were-Wolf lurked. When the hounds were unleashed +they ran this way and that, and swiftly came upon his +scent. At the view the huntsman winded on his horn, +and the whole pack were at his heels. They followed +him from morn to eve, till he was torn and bleeding, +and was all adread lest they should pull him down. +Now the King was very close to the quarry, and when +Bisclavaret looked upon his master, he ran to him for pity +and for grace. He took the stirrup within his paws, +and fawned upon the prince's foot. The King was very +fearful at this sight, but presently he called his courtiers +to his aid.</p> + +<p>"Lords," cried he, "hasten hither, and see this marvellous +thing. Here is a beast who has the sense of +man. He abases himself before his foe, and cries for +mercy, although he cannot speak. Beat off the hounds, +and let no man do him harm. We will hunt no more +to-day, but return to our own place, with the wonderful +quarry we have taken."</p> + +<p>The King turned him about, and rode to his hall, +Bisclavaret following at his side. Very near to his +master the Were-Wolf went, like any dog, and had no +care to seek again the wood. When the King had brought +him safely to his own castle, he rejoiced greatly, for +the beast was fair and strong, no mightier had any man +seen. Much pride had the King in his marvellous beast. +He held him so dear, that he bade all those who wished +for his love, to cross the Wolf in naught, neither to +strike him with a rod, but ever to see that he was richly +fed and kennelled warm. This commandment the Court +observed willingly. So all the day the Wolf sported +with the lords, and at night he lay within the chamber +of the King. There was not a man who did not make +much of the beast, so frank was he and debonair. None +had reason to do him wrong, for ever was he about his +master, and for his part did evil to none. Every day +were these two companions together, and all perceived +that the King loved him as his friend.</p> + +<p>Hearken now to that which chanced.</p> + +<p>The King held a high Court, and bade his great vassals +and barons, and all the lords of his venery to the feast. +Never was there a goodlier feast, nor one set forth with +sweeter show and pomp. Amongst those who were +bidden, came that same knight who had the wife of +Bisclavaret for dame. He came to the castle, richly +gowned, with a fair company, but little he deemed +whom he would find so near. Bisclavaret marked his +foe the moment he stood within the hall. He ran +towards him, and seized him with his fangs, in the +King's very presence, and to the view of all. Doubtless +he would have done him much mischief, had not the +King called and chidden him, and threatened him with a +rod. Once, and twice, again, the Wolf set upon the +knight in the very light of day. All men marvelled at +his malice, for sweet and serviceable was the beast, +and to that hour had shown hatred of none. With one +consent the household deemed that this deed was done +with full reason, and that the Wolf had suffered at the +knight's hand some bitter wrong. Right wary of his +foe was the knight until the feast had ended, and all +the barons had taken farewell of their lord, and departed, +each to his own house. With these, amongst the very +first, went that lord whom Bisclavaret so fiercely had +assailed. Small was the wonder that he was glad to go.</p> + +<p>No long while after this adventure it came to pass +that the courteous King would hunt in that forest where +Bisclavaret was found. With the prince came his wolf, +and a fair company. Now at nightfall the King abode +within a certain lodge of that country, and this was +known of that dame who before was the wife of Bisclavaret. +In the morning the lady clothed her in her +most dainty apparel, and hastened to the lodge, since +she desired to speak with the King, and to offer him +a rich present. When the lady entered in the chamber, +neither man nor leash might restrain the fury of the Wolf. +He became as a mad dog in his hatred and malice. +Breaking from his bonds he sprang at the lady's face, +and bit the nose from her visage. From every side +men ran to the succour of the dame. They beat off +the wolf from his prey, and for a little would have cut +him in pieces with their swords. But a certain wise +counsellor said to the King,</p> + +<p>"Sire, hearken now to me. This beast is always +with you, and there is not one of us all who has not +known him for long. He goes in and out amongst us, +nor has molested any man, neither done wrong or felony +to any, save only to this dame, one only time as we have +seen. He has done evil to this lady, and to that knight, +who is now the husband of the dame. Sire, she was +once the wife of that lord who was so close and private +to your heart, but who went, and none might find where +he had gone. Now, therefore, put the dame in a sure +place, and question her straitly, so that she may tell—if +perchance she knows thereof—for what reason this +Beast holds her in such mortal hate. For many a strange +deed has chanced, as well we know, in this marvellous +land of Brittany."</p> + +<p>The King listened to these words, and deemed the +counsel good. He laid hands upon the knight, and put +the dame in surety in another place. He caused them +to be questioned right straitly, so that their torment +was very grievous. At the end, partly because of her +distress, and partly by reason of her exceeding fear, +the lady's lips were loosed, and she told her tale. She +showed them of the betrayal of her lord, and how his +raiment was stolen from the hollow stone. Since then +she knew not where he went, nor what had befallen +him, for he had never come again to his own land. +Only, in her heart, well she deemed and was persuaded, +that Bisclavaret was he.</p> + +<p>Straightway the King demanded the vesture of his +baron, whether this were to the wish of the lady, or +whether it were against her wish. When the raiment +was brought him, he caused it to be spread before +Bisclavaret, but the Wolf made as though he had not +seen. Then that cunning and crafty counsellor took +the King apart, that he might give him a fresh rede.</p> + +<p>"Sire," said he, "you do not wisely, nor well, to +set this raiment before Bisclavaret, in the sight of all. +In shame and much tribulation must he lay aside the +beast, and again become man. Carry your wolf within +your most secret chamber, and put his vestment therein. +Then close the door upon him, and leave him alone for +a space. So we shall see presently whether the ravening +beast may indeed return to human shape."</p> + +<p>The King carried the Wolf to his chamber, and shut +the doors upon him fast. He delayed for a brief while, +and taking two lords of his fellowship with him, came +again to the room. Entering therein, all three, softly +together, they found the knight sleeping in the King's +bed, like a little child. The King ran swiftly to the bed +and taking his friend in his arms, embraced and kissed +him fondly, above a hundred times. When man's speech +returned once more, he told him of his adventure. +Then the King restored to his friend the fief that was +stolen from him, and gave such rich gifts, moreover, as +I cannot tell. As for the wife who had betrayed +Bisclavaret, he bade her avoid his country, and chased +her from the realm. So she went forth, she and her second +lord together, to seek a more abiding city, and were no +more seen.</p> + +<p>The adventure that you have heard is no vain fable. +Verily and indeed it chanced as I have said. The Lay +of the Were-Wolf, truly, was written that it should ever +be borne in mind.</p> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="IX"></a><h2>IX</h2> + +<p>THE LAY OF THE ASH TREE</p> +<br> + +<p>Now will I tell you the Lay of the Ash Tree, according +to the story that I know.</p> + +<p>In ancient days there dwelt two knights in Brittany, +who were neighbours and close friends. These two +lords were brave and worthy gentlemen, rich in goods +and lands, and near both in heart and home. Moreover +each was wedded to a dame. One of these ladies was +with child, and when her time was come, she was +delivered of two boys. Her husband was right happy +and content. For the joy that was his, he sent messages +to his neighbour, telling that his wife had brought forth +two sons, and praying that one of them might be +christened with his name. The rich man was at meat +when the messenger came before him. The servitor +kneeled before the dais, and told his message in his ear. +The lord thanked God for the happiness that had befallen +his friend, and bestowed a fair horse on the bringer of +good tidings. His wife, sitting at board with her husband, +heard the story of the messenger, and smiled +at his news. Proud she was, and sly, with an envious +heart, and a rancorous tongue. She made no effort +to bridle her lips, but spoke lightly before the servants +of the house, and said,</p> + +<p>"I marvel greatly that so reputable a man as our +neighbour, should publish his dishonour to my lord. +It is a shameful thing for any wife to have two children +at a birth. We all know that no woman brings forth +two at one bearing, except two husbands have aided her +therein."</p> + +<p>Her husband looked upon her in silence for awhile, +and when he spoke it was to blame her very sternly.</p> + +<p>"Wife," he said, "be silent. It is better to be dumb, +than to utter such words as these. As you know well, +there is not a breath to tarnish this lady's good name."</p> + +<p>The folk of the house, who listened to these words, +stored them in their hearts, and told abroad the tale, +spoken by their lady. Very soon it was known throughout +Brittany. Greatly was the lady blamed for her evil +tongue, and not a woman who heard thereof—whether +she were rich or poor—but who scorned her for her malice. +The servant who carried the message, on his return +repeated to his lord of what he had seen and heard. +Passing heavy was the knight, and knew not what to +do. He doubted his own true wife, and suspected her +the more sorely, because she had done naught that was +in any way amiss.</p> + +<p>The lady, who so foully slandered her fellow, fell +with child in the same year. Her neighbour was avenged +upon her, for when her term was come, she became the +mother of two daughters. Sick at heart was she. She +was right sorrowful, and lamented her evil case.</p> + +<p>"Alas," she said, "what shall I do, for I am dishonoured +for all my days. Shamed I am, it is the simple +truth. When my lord and his kinsfolk shall hear of +what has chanced, they will never believe me a stainless +wife. They will remember how I judged all women in +my plight. They will recall how I said before my house, +that my neighbour could not have been doubly a mother, +unless she had first been doubly a wife. I have the best +reason now to know that I was wrong, and I am caught +in my own snare. She who digs a pit for another, +cannot tell that she may not fall into the hole herself. +If you wish to speak loudly concerning your neighbour, +it is best to say nothing of him but in praise. The only +way to keep me from shame, is that one of my children +should die. It is a great sin; but I would rather trust +to the mercy of God, than suffer scorn and reproach for +the rest of my life."</p> + +<p>The women about her comforted her as best they +might in this trouble. They told her frankly that they +would not suffer such wrong to be done, since the slaying +of a child was not reckoned a jest. The lady had a +maiden near her person, whom she had long held and +nourished. The damsel was a freeman's daughter, and +was greatly loved and cherished of her mistress. When +she saw the lady's tears, and heard the bitterness of +her complaint, anguish went to her heart, like a knife. +She stooped over her lady, striving to bring her comfort.</p> + +<p>"Lady," she said, "take it not so to heart. Give +over this grief, for all will yet be well. You shall deliver +me one of these children, and I will put her so far from +you, that you shall never see her again, nor know shame +because of her. I will carry her safe and sound to the +door of a church. There I will lay her down. Some +honest man shall find her, and—please God—will be +at the cost of her nourishing."</p> + +<p>Great joy had the lady to hear these words. She +promised the maiden that in recompense of her service, +she would grant her such guerdon as she should wish. +The maiden took the babe—yet smiling in her sleep—and +wrapped her in a linen cloth. Above this she set +a piece of sanguine silk, brought by the husband of +this dame from a bazaar in Constantinople—fairer was +never seen. With a silken lace they bound a great ring +to the child's arm. This ring was of fine gold, weighing +fully an ounce, and was set with garnets most precious.</p> + +<p>Letters were graven thereon, so that those who found the +maid might understand that she came of a good house. +The damsel took the child, and went out from the +chamber. When night was come, and all was still, she +left the town, and sought the high road leading through +the forest. She held on her way, clasping the baby +to her breast, till from afar, to her right hand, she +heard the howling of dogs and the crowing of cocks. +She deemed that she was near a town, and went the +lighter for the hope, directing her steps, there, whence +the noises came. Presently the damsel entered in a fair +city, where was an Abbey, both great and rich. This +Abbey was worshipfully ordered, with many nuns in +their office and degree, and an Abbess in charge of all. +The maiden gazed upon the mighty house, and considered +its towers and walls, and the church with its +belfry. She went swiftly to the door, and setting the +child upon the ground, kneeled humbly to make her +prayer.</p> + +<p>"Lord," said she, "for the sake of Thy Holy Name, +if such be Thy will, preserve this child from death."</p> + +<p>Her petition ended, the maiden looked about her, +and saw an ash tree, planted to give shadow in a sunny +place. It was a fair tree, thick and leafy, and was +divided into four strong branches. The maiden took +the child again in her arms, and running to the ash, +set her within the tree. There she left her, commending +her to the care of God. So she returned to her mistress, +and told her all that she had done.</p> + +<p>Now in this Abbey was a porter, whose duty it was +to open the doors of the church, before folk came to +hear the service of God. This night he rose at his +accustomed hour, lighted candles and lamps, rang the +bells, and set wide the doors. His eyes fell upon the +silken stuff within the ash. He thought at first that some +bold thief had hidden his spoil within the tree. He felt +with his hand to discover what it might be, and found +that it was a little child. The porter praised God for +His goodness; he took the babe, and going again to his +house, called to his daughter, who was a widow, with an +infant yet in the cradle.</p> + +<p>"Daughter," he cried, "get from bed at once; light +your candle, and kindle the fire. I bring you a little +child, whom I have found within our ash. Take her +to your breast; cherish her against the cold, and bathe +her in warm water."</p> + +<p>The widow did according to her father's will. She +kindled a fire, and taking the babe, washed and cherished +her in her need. Very certain she was, when she saw +that rich stuff of crimson samite, and the golden ring +about the arm, that the girl was come of an honourable +race. The next day, when the office was ended, the +porter prayed the Abbess that he might have speech +with her as she left the church. He related his story, +and told of the finding of the child. The Abbess bade +him to fetch the child, dressed in such fashion as she +was discovered in the ash. The porter returned to his. +house, and showed the babe right gladly to his dame. +The Abbess observed the infant closely, and said that +she would be at the cost of her nourishing, and would +cherish her as a sister's child. She commanded the +porter strictly to forget that he took her from the ash. +In this manner it chanced that the maiden was tended +of the Abbess. The lady considered the maid as her +niece, and since she was taken from the ash, gave her +the name of Frêne. By this name she was known of all, +within the Abbey precincts, where she was nourished.</p> + +<p>When Frêne came to that age in which a girl turns to +woman, there was no fairer maiden in Brittany, nor +so sweet a damsel. Frank, she was, and open, but +discreet in semblance and in speech. To see her was to +love her, and to prize her smile above the beauty of +the world. Now at Dol there lived a lord of whom much +good was spoken. I will tell you his name. The folk +of his country called him Buron. This lord heard speak +of the maiden, and began to love her, for the sweetness +men told of her. As he rode home from some tournament, +he passed near the convent, and prayed the Abbess +that he might look upon her niece. The Abbess gave +him his desire. Greatly was the maiden to his mind. +Very fair he found her, sweetly schooled and fashioned, +modest and courteous to all. If he might not win her +to his love, he counted himself the more forlorn. This +lord was at his wits end, for he knew not what to do. +If he repaired often to the convent, the Abbess would +consider of the cause of his comings, and he would never +again see the maiden with his eyes. One thing only +gave him a little hope. Should he endow the Abbey +of his wealth, he would make it his debtor for ever. +In return he might ask a little room, where he might +abide to have their fellowship, and, at times, withdraw +him from the world. This he did. He gave richly of +his goods to the Abbey. Often, in return, he went to +the convent, but for other reasons than for penitence +and peace. He besought the maiden, and with prayers +and promises, persuaded her to set upon him her love. +When this lord was assured that she loved him, on a +certain day he reasoned with her in this manner.</p> + +<p>"Fair friend," said he, "since you have given me +your love, come with me, where I can cherish you +before all the world. You know, as well as I, that if +your aunt should perceive our friendship, she would +be passing wrath, and grieve beyond measure. If my +counsel seems good, let us flee together, you with me, +and I with you. Certes, you shall never have cause to +regret your trust, and of my riches you shall have the +half."</p> + +<p>When she who loved so fondly heard these words, +she granted of her tenderness what it pleased him to +have, and followed after where he would. Frêne fled +to her lover's castle, carrying with her that silken cloth +and ring, which might do her service on a day. These +the Abbess had given her again, telling her how one +morning at prime she was found upon an ash, this +ring and samite her only wealth, since she was not her +niece. Right carefully had Frêne guarded her treasure +from that hour. She shut them closely in a little chest, +and this coffret she bore with her in her flight, for she +would neither lose them nor forget.</p> + +<p>The lord, with whom the maiden fled, loved and +cherished her very dearly. Of all the men and servants +of his house, there was not one—either great or small—but +who loved and honoured her for her simplicity. +They lived long together in love and content, till the +fair days passed, and trouble came upon this lord. The +knights of his realm drew together, and many a time +urged that he should put away his friend, and wed with +some rich gentlewoman. They would be joyous if a +son were born, to come after to his fief and heritage. +The peril was too great to suffer that he remained a +bachelor, and without an heir. Never more would +they hold him as lord, or serve him with a good heart, +if he would not do according to their will.</p> + +<p>There being naught else to do, the lord deferred to +this counsel of his knights, and begged them to name +the lady whom he needs must wed.</p> + +<p>"Sir," answered they, "there is a lord of these parts, +privy to our counsel, who has but one child, a maid, +his only heir. Broad lands will he give as her dowry. +This damsel's name is Coudre, and in all this country +there is none so fair. Be advised: throw away the +ash rod you carry, and take the hazel as your staff.<a name="FNanchor1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1"><sup>[1]</sup></a> +The ash is a barren stock; but the hazel is thick with +nuts and delight. We shall be content if you take this +maiden as your wife, so it be to the will of God, and +she be given you of her kinsfolk."</p> + +<p>Buron demanded the hand of the lady in marriage, +and her father and kin betrothed her to the lord. Alas! +it was hid from all, that these two were twin sisters. +It was Frêne's lot to be doubly abandoned, and to see +her lover become her sister's husband. When she +learned that her friend purposed taking to himself a +wife, she made no outcry against his falseness. She +continued to serve her lord faithfully, and was diligent +in the business of his house. The sergeant and the varlet +were marvellously wrathful, when they knew that she +must go from amongst them. On the day appointed for +the marriage, Buron bade his friends and acquaintance +to the feast. Together with these came the Archbishop, +and those of Dol who held of him their lands. His +betrothed was brought to his home by her mother. +Great dread had the mother because of Frêne, for she +knew of the love that the lord bore the maiden, and +feared lest her daughter should be a stranger in her own +hall. She spoke to her son-in-law, counselling him to +send Frêne from his house, and to find her an honest +man for her husband. Thus there would be quittance +between them. Very splendid was the feast. Whilst +all was mirth and jollity, the damsel visited the chambers, +to see that each was ordered to her lord's pleasure. +She hid the torment in her heart, and seemed neither +troubled nor downcast. She compassed the bride with +every fair observance, and waited upon her right daintily.</p> + +<a name="Footnote_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor1">[1]</a><div class=note> This is a play on words; Frêne in the French, +meaning ash, and Coudre meaning hazel.</div> + +<p>Her courage was marvellous to that company of lords +and ladies, who observed her curiously. The mother +of the bride regarded her also, and praised her privily. +She said aloud that had she known the sweetness of +this lady, she would not have taken her lover from her, +nor spoiled her life for the sake of the bride. The night +being come the damsel entered in the bridal chamber +to deck the bed against her lord. She put off her mantle, +and calling the chamberlains, showed them how their +master loved to lie. His bed being softly arrayed, a +coverlet was spread upon the linen sheets. Frêne looked +upon the coverlet: in her eyes it showed too mean a +garnishing for so fair a lord. She turned it over in +her mind, and going to her coffret she took therefrom +that rich stuff of sanguine silk, and set it on the couch. +This she did not only in honour of her friend, but +that the Archbishop might not despise the house, +when he blessed the marriage bed, according to the rite. +When all was ready the mother carried the bride to +that chamber where she should lie, to disarray her +for the night. Looking upon the bed she marked the +silken coverlet, for she had never seen so rich a cloth, +save only that in which she wrapped her child. When +she remembered of this thing, her heart turned to water. +She summoned a chamberlain.</p> + +<p>"Tell me," she said, "tell me in good faith where +this garniture was found."</p> + +<p>"Lady," he made reply, "that you shall know. Our +damsel spread it on the bed, because this dossal is +richer than the coverlet that was there before."</p> + +<p>The lady called for the damsel. Frêne came before +her in haste, being yet without her mantle. All the +mother moved within her, as she plied her with questions.</p> + +<p>"Fair friend, hide it not a whit from me. Tell me +truly where this fair samite was found; whence came +it; who gave it to you? Answer swiftly, and tell me +who bestowed on you this cloth?"</p> + +<p>The damsel made answer to her:</p> + +<p>"Lady, my aunt, the Abbess, gave me this silken stuff, +and charged me to keep it carefully. At the same time +she gave me a ring, which those who put me forth, +had bound upon me."</p> + +<p>"Fair friend, may I see this ring?"</p> + +<p>"Certes, lady, I shall be pleased to show it."</p> + +<p>The lady looked closely on the ring, when it was +brought. She knew again her own, and the crimson +samite flung upon the bed. No doubt was in her mind. +She knew and was persuaded that Frêne was her very +child. All words were spoken, and there was nothing +more to hide.</p> + +<p>"Thou art my daughter, fair friend."</p> + +<p>Then for reason of the pity that was hers, she fell to +the ground, and lay in a swoon. When the lady came +again to herself, she sent for her husband, who, all +adread, hastened to the chamber. He marvelled the +more sorely when his wife fell at his feet, and embracing +him closely, entreated pardon for the evil that she had +done.</p> + +<p>Knowing nothing of her trespass, he made reply, +"Wife, what is this? Between you and me there is +nothing to call for forgiveness. Pardon you may have for +whatever fault you please. Tell me plainly what is +your wish."</p> + +<p>"Husband, my offence is so black, that you had better +give me absolution before I tell you the sin. A long time +ago, by reason of lightness and malice, I spoke evil of my +neighbour, whenas she bore two sons at a birth. I fell +afterwards into the very pit that I had digged. Though +I told you that I was delivered of a daughter, the truth +is that I had borne two maids. One of these I wrapped +in our stuff of samite, together with the ring you gave +me the first time we met, and caused her to be laid beside +a church. Such a sin will out. The cloth and the ring I +have found, and I have recognised our maid, whom I had +lost by my own folly. She is this very damsel—so fair +and amiable to all—whom the knight so greatly loved. +Now we have married the lord to her sister."</p> + +<p>The husband made answer, +"Wife, if your sin be double, our joy is manifold. Very +tenderly hath God dealt with us, in giving us back our +child. I am altogether joyous and content to have two +daughters for one. Daughter, come to your father's +side."</p> + +<p>The damsel rejoiced greatly to hear this story. Her +father tarried no longer, but seeking his son-in-law, +brought him to the Archbishop, and related the adventure. +The knight knew such joy as was never yet. The +Archbishop gave counsel that on the morrow he would +part him and her whom he had joined together. This +was done, for in the morning he severed them, bed and +board. Afterwards he married Frêne to her friend, and +her father accorded the damsel with a right good heart. +Her mother and sister were with her at the wedding, and +for dowry her father gave her the half of his heritage. +When they returned to their own realm they took +Coudre, their daughter, with them. There she was +granted to a lord of those parts, and rich was the feast.</p> + +<p>When this adventure was bruited abroad, and all +the story, the Lay of the Ash Tree was written, so called +of the lady, named Frêne.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="X"></a><h2>X</h2> + +<p>THE LAY OF THE HONEYSUCKLE</p> +<br> + +<p>With a glad heart and right good mind will I tell the +Lay that men call Honeysuckle; and that the truth may +be known of all it shall be told as many a minstrel has +sung it to my ear, and as the scribe hath written it +for our delight. It is of Tristan and Isoude, the Queen. +It is of a love which passed all other love, of love from +whence came wondrous sorrow, and whereof they died +together in the self-same day.</p> + +<p>King Mark was sorely wrath with Tristan, his sister's +son, and bade him avoid his realm, by reason of the +love he bore the Queen. So Tristan repaired to his own +land, and dwelt for a full year in South Wales, where +he was born. Then since he might not come where +he would be, Tristan took no heed to his ways, but +let his life run waste to Death. Marvel not overmuch +thereat, for he who loves beyond measure must ever +be sick in heart and hope, when he may not win according +to his wish. So sick in heart and mind was Tristan that +he left his kingdom, and returned straight to the realm +of his banishment, because that in Cornwall dwelt the +Queen. There he hid privily in the deep forest, withdrawn +from the eyes of men; only when the evening +was come, and all things sought their rest, he prayed +the peasant and other mean folk of that country, of their +charity to grant him shelter for the night. From the +serf he gathered tidings of the King. These gave again +to him what they, in turn, had taken from some outlawed +knight. Thus Tristan learned that when Pentecost +was come King Mark purposed to hold high Court at +Tintagel, and keep the feast with pomp and revelry; +moreover that thither would ride Isoude, the Queen.</p> + +<p>When Tristan heard this thing he rejoiced greatly, +since the Queen might not adventure through the forest, +except he saw her with his eyes. After the King had +gone his way, Tristan entered within the wood, and +sought the path by which the Queen must come. There +he cut a wand from out a certain hazel-tree, and having +trimmed and peeled it of its bark, with his dagger he +carved his name upon the wood. This he placed upon +her road, for well he knew that should the Queen but +mark his name she would bethink her of her friend. +Thus had it chanced before. For this was the sum of +the writing set upon the wand, for Queen Isoude's heart +alone: how that in this wild place Tristan had lurked +and waited long, so that he might look upon her face, +since without her he was already dead. Was it not with +them as with the Honeysuckle and the Hazel tree she +was passing by! So sweetly laced and taken were they +in one close embrace, that thus they might remain +whilst life endured. But should rough hands part so +fond a clasping, the hazel would wither at the root, +and the honeysuckle must fail. Fair friend, thus is +the case with us, nor you without me, nor I without you.</p> + +<p>Now the Queen fared at adventure down the forest +path. She spied the hazel wand set upon her road, and +well she remembered the letters and the name. She bade +the knights of her company to draw rein, and dismount +from their palfreys, so that they might refresh themselves +a little. When her commandment was done she +withdrew from them a space, and called to her Brangwaine, +her maiden, and own familiar friend. Then she +hastened within the wood, to come on him whom more +she loved than any living soul. How great the joy +between these twain, that once more they might speak +together softly, face to face. Isoude showed him her +delight. She showed in what fashion she strove to bring +peace and concord betwixt Tristan and the King, and +how grievously his banishment had weighed upon her +heart. Thus sped the hour, till it was time for them to +part; but when these lovers freed them from the other's +arms, the tears were wet upon their cheeks. So Tristan +returned to Wales, his own realm, even as his uncle +bade. But for the joy that he had had of her, his friend, +for her sweet face, and for the tender words that she had +spoken, yea, and for that writing upon the wand, to +remember all these things, Tristan, that cunning harper, +wrought a new Lay, as shortly I have told you. +Goatleaf, men call this song in English. Chèvrefeuille +it is named in French; but Goatleaf or Honeysuckle, +here you have the very truth in the Lay that I have +spoken.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="XI"></a><h2>XI</h2> + +<p>THE LAY OF EQUITAN</p> +<br> + +<p>In ancient days many a noble lord lived in Brittany +beyond the Seas. By reason of their courtesy and nobleness +they would gladly keep in remembrance the deeds +that were done in the land. That these marvellous +things should not be forgotten they fashioned them into +Lays. Amongst these Lays I have heard tell of one +which is not made to die as though it had never been.</p> + +<p>Equitan, lord of Nantes, was a loyal and courteous +gentleman, of great worth, beloved by all in his own +country. He was set on pleasure, and was Love's lover, +as became a gentle knight. Like many others who dote +on woman, he observed neither sense nor measure in +love. But it is in the very nature of Love that proportion +cannot enter into the matter.</p> + +<p>Equitan had for seneschal a right brave and loyal +knight, who was captain of his army, and did justice +in his realm. He was often abroad upon his master's +business, for the King would not forego his delight for +any reason whatever. To dance, to hunt, to fish within +the river—this was all his joy. This seneschal was married +to a wife, by whom great evil came upon the land. +Very desirable was the lady; passing tender of body, +and sweet of vesture, coiffed and fretted with gold. Her +eyes were blue; her face warmly coloured, with a +fragrant mouth, and a dainty nose. Certainly she had +no peer in all the realm. The King had heard much +in praise of this lady and many a time saluted her upon +the way. He had also sent her divers gifts. Often he +considered in his mind how best he might get speech +with the dame. For his privy pleasure this amorous +King went to chase in that country where the seneschal +had his castle. The lady being in her own house, +Equitan craved a lodging for the night. By this means +when the hunt was done, he could speak with her, and +show what was in his heart. Equitan found the lady +as discreet as courteous. He looked closely upon her, +for she was fair of face and person, and sweet of semblance +and address. Love bound him captive to his +car. The god loosed a shaft which entered deeply in his +breast. The arrow pierced to his heart, and from thenceforth +he cared nothing for measure, or kingship, or +delight. Equitan was so surprised of the lady, that he +remained silent and pensive. He heard nothing, and +nothing he could do. All night he lay in unrest upon +the bed, reproaching himself for what had come to pass.</p> + +<p>"Alas," said he, "what evil fate has led me into +this land! The sight only of this lady has put such +anguish into my heart that my members fail beneath +me. It is Love, I deem, who rides me thus cruelly. +But if I love this lady I shall do a great wrong. She +is the wife of my seneschal, and it is my duty to keep +the same love and faith to him as I would wish him +to observe with me. If by any means I could know +what is in her mind, I should be the easier, for torment +is doubled that you bear alone. There is not a dame, +however curst, but would rather love than not; for if +she were a contemner of love where would be her courtesy? +But if she loves, there is not a woman under the +sky who would not suck thereout all the advantage +that she may. If the matter came to the ears of the +seneschal, he ought not to think too hardly of me. He +cannot hope to keep such treasure for himself alone; +and, certes, I shall claim my portion."</p> + +<p>Equitan tossed on his bed, and sighed. His thoughts +were still on the lady, so that in a little he said, +"I think of the ford, before I come to the river. I +go too quickly, for I know not yet whether the lady will +take me as her friend. But know I will as swiftly as I +can, since I cannot get rest or sleep. I will come before +her as soon as it is day, and if she feels as I feel, the +sooner I shall be rid of my pain."</p> + +<p>The King kept vigil till the daylight came at last. +He arose and went forth, as if to the chase. He returned +presently, telling that he was sick, and going straight +to his chamber, lay upon his bed. The seneschal was +very troubled, for he could not imagine the sickness +of which his master felt the pangs. He counselled his +wife to seek their guest, that she might cheer and comfort +him in his trouble. When they were alone the King +opened to her his heart. He told her that he was dying +for her love, and that if she had no more than friendship +to offer, he preferred death before life.</p> + +<p>"Sire," replied the dame, "I require a little time to +think of what you say, for I cannot answer yes or no, +without thought, in a business of this moment. I am +not of your wealth, and you are too high a lord, for your +love to do more than rest lightly on me. When you +have had your desire, it will as lightly fly away. My +sorrow would be overlong, if I should love you, and +grant you what you wish. It is much the best that +between you and me love should not be spoken of. +You are a puissant prince; my husband is one of your +vassals, and faith and trust should bind us—not the +dangerous bond of love. Love is only lasting between +like and like. Better is the love of an honest man—so +he be of sense and worth—than that of a prince or +king, with no loyalty in him. She who sets her love more +highly than she can reach, may pluck no fruit from the +tree. The rich man deems that love is his of right. +He prays little of his friend, for he thinks none dare +take her from his hand, and that her tenderness is his +by prize of lordship."</p> + +<p>When she had ceased, Equitan made answer, +"Lady, I can offer you but short thanks for your +words, since they savour of scant courtesy. You speak +of love as a burgess makes a bargain. Those who desire +to get, rather than to give, often find that they have the +worser half of the business. There is no lady under +heaven—so she be courteous and kind and of a good +heart—but would grant her grace to a true lover, even +though she have beneath her cloak only a rich prince +in his castle. Those who care but for a fresh face—tricksters +in love as a cozener with dice—are justly +flouted and deceived, as oftentimes we see. None wastes +pity on him who receives the stripes he deserves. Dear +lady, let me make myself plain. Do not regard me as +your King; look on me as your servant and your friend. +I give my word and plight my troth that all my happiness +shall be found in your pleasure. Let me not die +for your love. You shall be the Dame, and I the page; +you shall be the scornful beauty, and I the prayer at +your knee."</p> + +<p>The King prayed the lady so urgently, so tenderly +he sued for grace, that at the last she assured him of +her love, and gave him the gift of her heart. They +granted rings one to another, and pledged affiance +between them. They kept this faith, and guarded this +love, till they died together, and there was an end to all.</p> + +<p>Equitan and the lady loved for a great while without +it coming to the ears of any. When the King desired +to have speech of his friend, he told his household that +he would be alone, since it was the day appointed for +his bleeding. The King having shut the doors of his +chamber, there was none so bold as to enter therein, +save he were bidden of his lord. Whilst he was busied +in this fashion, the seneschal sat in open court to hear +the pleas and right the wrong. He was as much to the +King's mind, as his wife was to the King's heart. The +lord was so assotted upon the lady that he would neither +take to himself a wife, nor listen to a word upon the +matter. His people blamed him loudly, so loudly that +it came to the ears of the lady. She was passing heavy, +for she feared greatly that the barons would have their +way. When next she had speech with Equitan, in place +of the kiss and sweetness of her customary greeting, +she came before him making great sorrow and in tears. +The King inquiring the reason of her dolour, the lady +replied, +"Sire, I lament our love, and the trouble I always +said would be mine. You are about to wed the daughter +of some King, and my good days are over. Everybody +says so, and I know it to be true. What will become of +me when you put me away! I will die, rather than lose +you, for I may have no other comfort."</p> + +<p>The King made answer very tenderly, +"Fair friend, you need not fear. There will never be +wife of mine to put you from me. I shall never wed, +except your husband die, and then it is you who would +be my queen and lady. I will leave you for no other +dame."</p> + +<p>The lady thanked him sweetly for his words. Much +was she beholden to him in her heart. Since she was +assured that he would not leave her for any other, +she turned over swiftly in her mind the profit that would +come from her husband's death. Much happiness might +be bought at a little cost, if Equitan would lend his aid.</p> + +<p>The King made answer that he would do her will to +the utmost of his power, whether her counsel were for +good or evil.</p> + +<p>"Sire," said the lady, "let it please you to hunt +the forest within the country where I dwell. You +can lodge in my lord's castle, and there you must be +bled. Three days after your surgery is done, you must +call for your bath. My lord shall be bled with you, so +that he may go to his bathing at the same time. It +will be your part to keep him at your side, and make +him your constant companion. It will be mine to +heat the water, and to carry the baths to your chamber. +My husband's bath shall boil so fiercely, that no breathing +man, having entered therein, may come forth living. +When he is dead you must call for your people, and +show them how the seneschal has died suddenly in his +bath."</p> + +<p>Because of his love the King granted her desire, and +promised to do according to her will. Before three +months were done the King rode to the chase within the +lady's realm. He caused surgeons to bleed him for his +health, and the seneschal with him. He said that he +would take his bath on the third day, and the seneschal +required his, too, to be made ready. The lady caused +the water to be heated, and carried the baths to the +chamber. According to her device she set a bath +beside each bed, filling with boiling water that bath +which her lord should enter. Her lord had gone forth +for a little, so for a space the King and the lady were +alone. They sat on the husband's bed, and looked +tenderly each on the other, near by that heated bath. +The door of the chamber was kept by a young damsel +to give them warning. The seneschal made haste to +return, and would have struck on the door of the +chamber, but was stayed by the maiden. He put her +by, and in his impatience flung the door wide open. +Entering he found his master and his wife clasped in +each other's arms. When the King saw the seneschal +he had no thought but to hide his dishonour. He +started up, and sprang with joined feet in the bath +that was filled with boiling water. There he perished +miserably, in the very snare he had spread for another, +who was safe and sound. The seneschal marked what +had happened to the King. In his rage he turned to +his wife, and laying hands upon her thrust her, head +first, in the self-same bath. So they died together, the +King first, and the lady afterwards, with him.</p> + +<p>Those who are willing to listen to fair words, may +learn from this ensample, that he who seeks another's +ill often brings the evil upon himself.</p> + +<p>As I have told you before, of this adventure the +Bretons made the Lay of Equitan, the lady whom he +loved, and of their end.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="XII"></a><h2>XII</h2> + +<p>THE LAY OF MILON</p> +<br> + +<p>He who would tell divers tales must know how to vary +the tune. To win the favour of any, he must speak to +the understanding of all. I purpose in this place to +show you the story of Milon, and—since few words are +best—I will set out the adventure as briefly as I may.</p> + +<p>Milon was born in South Wales. So great was his +prowess that from the day he was dubbed knight there +was no champion who could stand before him in the lists. +He was a passing fair knight, open and brave, courteous +to his friends, and stern to his foes. Men praised his +name in whatever realm they talked of gallant deeds—Ireland, +Norway, and Wales, yea, from Jutland even +to Albania. Since he was praised by the frank, he was +therefore envied of the mean. Nevertheless, by reason of +his skill with the spear, he was counted a very worshipful +knight, and was honourably entreated by many a prince +in divers lands.</p> + +<p>In Milon's own realm there lived a lord whose name +has gone from mind. With this baron dwelt his daughter, +a passing fair and gracious damsel. Much talk had this +maiden heard of Milon's knightly deeds, so that she +began to set her thoughts upon him, because of the good +men spoke of him. She sent him a message by a sure +hand, saying that if her love was to his mind, sweetly +would it be to her heart. Milon rejoiced greatly when +he knew this thing. He thanked the lady for her words, +giving her love again in return for her own, and swearing +that he would never depart therefrom any day of his days. +Beyond this courteous answer Milon bestowed on the messenger +costly gifts, and made him promises that were +richer still.</p> + +<p>"Friend," said he, "of your charity I pray you that I +may have speech with my friend, in such a fashion +that none shall know of our meeting. Carry her this, my +golden ring. Tell her, on my part, that so she pleases she +shall come to me, or, if it be her better pleasure, I will go +to her."</p> + +<p>The messenger bade farewell, and returned to his lady. +He placed the ring in her hand, saying that he had +done her will, as he was bidden to do.</p> + +<p>Right joyous was the damsel to know that Milon's love +was tender as her own. She required her friend to come +for speech within the private garden of her house, where +she was wont to take her delight. Milon came at her +commandment. He came so often, and so dearly she +loved him, that in the end she gave him all that maid may +give. When the damsel perceived how it was with her, +she sent messages to her friend, telling him of her case, +and making great sorrow.</p> + +<p>"I have lost my father and all his wealth," said the +lady, "for when he hears of this matter he will make +of me an example. Either I shall be tormented with +the sword, or else he will sell me as a slave in a far +country."</p> + +<p>(For such was the usage of our fathers in the days +of this tale).</p> + +<p>Milon grieved sorely, and made answer that he would +do the thing the damsel thought most seemly to be done.</p> + +<p>"When the child is born," replied the lady, "you must carry him +forthwith to my sister. She is a rich dame, pitiful and good, and is +wedded to a lord of Northumberland. You will send messages with the +babe—both in writing and by speech—that the little innocent is her +sister's child. Whether it be a boy or girl his mother will have +suffered much because of him, and for her sister's sake you will pray +her to cherish the babe. Beyond this I shall set your signet by a lace +about his neck, and write letters wherein shall be made plain the name +of his sire, and the sad story of his mother. When he shall have grown +tall, and of an age to understand these matters, his aunt will give him +your ring, and rehearse to him the letter. If this be done, perchance +the orphan will not be fatherless all his days."</p> + +<p>Milon approved the counsel of the lady, and when her +time had come she was brought to bed of a boy. The old +nurse who tended her mistress was privy to the damsel's +inmost mind. So warily she went to work, so cunning was +she in gloss and concealment, that none within the palace +knew that there was aught to hide. The damsel looked +upon her boy, and saw that he was very fair. She laced +the ring about his neck, and set the letter that it were +death to find, within a silken chatelaine. The child +was then placed in his cradle, swathed close in white +linen. A pillow of feathers was put beneath his head, +and over all was laid a warm coverlet, wadded with +fur. In this fashion the ancient nurse gave the babe to +his father, who awaited him within the garden. Milon +commended the child to his men, charging them to carry +him loyally, by such towns as they knew, to that lady +beyond the Humber. The servitors set forth, bearing the +infant with them. Seven times a day they reposed them +in their journey, so that the women might nourish the +babe, and bathe and tend him duly. They served their +lord so faithfully, keeping such watch upon the way, +that at the last they won to the lady to whom they +were bidden. The lady received them courteously, as +became her breeding. She broke the seal of the letter, and +when she was assured of what was therein, marvellously +she cherished the infant. These having bestowed the boy +in accordance with their lord's commandment, returned +to their own land.</p> + +<p>Milon went forth from his realm to serve beyond the +seas for guerdon. His friend remained within her house +and was granted by her father in marriage to a right rich +baron of that country. Though this baron was a worthy +knight, justly esteemed of all his fellows, the damsel was +grieved beyond measure when she knew her father's will. +She called to mind the past, and regretted that Milon had +gone from the country, since he would have helped her +in her need.</p> + +<p>"Alas!" said the lady, "what shall I do? I doubt +that I am lost, for my lord will find that his bride is +not a maid. If this becomes known they will make +me a bondwoman for all my days. Would that my +friend were here to free me from this coil. It were good +for me to die rather than to live, but by no means can I +escape from their hands. They have set warders about +me, men, old and young, whom they call my chamberlains, +contemners of love, who delight themselves in +sadness. But endure it I must, for, alas, I know not +how to die."</p> + +<p>So on the appointed day the lady was wedded to the +baron, and her husband took her to dwell with him +in his fief.</p> + +<p>When Milon returned to his own country he was right +heavy and sorrowful to learn of this marriage. He +lamented his wretched case, but in this he found comfort, +that he was not far from the realm where the lady abode +whom so tenderly he loved. Milon commenced to think +within himself how best he might send letters to the +damsel that he was come again to his home, yet so that +none should have knowledge thereof. He wrote a +letter, and sealed it with his seal. This message he +made fast to the neck, and hid within the plumage of +a swan that was long his, and was greatly to his +heart. He bade his squire to come, and made him +his messenger.</p> + +<p>"Change thy raiment swiftly," said he, "and hasten to +the castle of my friend. Take with thee my swan, and see +that none, neither servant nor handmaid, delivers the +bird to my lady, save thyself alone."</p> + +<p>The squire did according to his lord's commandment. +He made him ready quickly, and went forth, bearing +the swan with him. He went by the nearest road, and +passing through the streets of the city, came before the +portal of the castle. In answer to his summons the porter +drew near.</p> + +<p>"Friend," said he, "hearken to me. I am of Caerleon, +and a fowler by craft. Within my nets I have snared the +most marvellous swan in the world. This wondrous bird +I would bestow forthwith upon your lady, but perforce I +must offer her the gift with my own hand."</p> + +<p>"Friend," replied the porter, "fowlers are not always +welcomed of ladies. If you come with me I will bring +you where I may know whether it pleases my lady to have +speech with you and to receive your gift."</p> + +<p>The porter entered in the hall, where he found none but +two lords seated at a great table, playing chess for their +delight. He swiftly returned on his steps, and the fowler +with him, so furtively withal that the lords were not +disturbed at their game, nor perceived aught of the matter. +They went therefore to the chamber of the lady. In +answer to their call the door was opened to them by a +maiden, who led them before her dame. When the swan +was proffered to the lady it pleased her to receive the gift. +She summoned a varlet of her household and gave the +bird to his charge, commanding him to keep it safely, +and to see that it ate enough and to spare.</p> + +<p>"Lady," said the servitor, "I will do your bidding. +We shall never receive from any fowler on earth such +another bird as this. The swan is fit to serve at a royal +table, for the bird is plump as he is fair."</p> + +<p>The varlet put the swan in his lady's hands. She took +the bird kindly, and smoothing his head and neck, +felt the letter that was hidden beneath its feathers. The +blood pricked in her veins, for well she knew that the +writing was sent her by her friend. She caused the fowler +to be given of her bounty, and bade the men to go forth +from her chamber. When they had parted the lady +called a maiden to her aid. She broke the seal, and +unfastening the letter, came upon the name of Milon at +the head. She kissed the name a hundred times through +her tears. When she might read the writing she learned +of the great pain and dolour that her lover suffered by +day and by night. In you—he wrote—is all my pleasure, +and in your white hands it lies to heal me or to slay. +Strive to find a plan by which we may speak as friend +to friend, if you would have me live. The knight +prayed her in his letter to send him an answer by means +of the swan. If the bird were well guarded, and kept +without provand for three days, he would of a surety +fly back to the place from whence he came, with any +message that the lady might lace about his neck.</p> + +<p>When the damsel had considered the writing, and +understood what was put therein, she commanded that her +bird should be tended carefully, and given plenteously to +eat and to drink. She held him for a month within her +chamber, but this was less from choice, than for the +craft that was necessary to obtain the ink and parchment +requisite for her writing. At the end she wrote a letter +according to her heart, and sealed it with her ring. The +lady caused the swan to fast for three full days; then +having concealed the message about his neck, let him +take his flight. The bird was all anhungered for food, +and remembering well the home from which he drew, he +returned thither as quickly as his wings might bear him.</p> + +<p>He knew again his town, and his master's house, and +descended to the ground at Milon's very feet. Milon +rejoiced greatly when he marked his own. He caught +the bird by his wings, and crying for his steward, bade +him give the swan to eat. The knight removed the +missive from the messenger's neck. He glanced from head +to head of the letter, seeking the means that he hoped to +find, and the salutation he so tenderly wished. Sweet +to his heart was the writing, for the lady wrote that without +him there was no joy in her life, and since it was his +desire to hear by the swan, it would be her pleasure also.</p> + +<p>For twenty years the swan was made the messenger of +these two lovers, who might never win together. There +was no speech between them, save that carried by the +bird. They caused the swan to fast for three days, +and then sent him on his errand. He to whom the letter +came, saw to it that the messenger was fed to heart's +desire. Many a time the swan went upon his journey, +for however strictly the lady was held of her husband, +there was none who had suspicion of a bird.</p> + +<p>The dame beyond the Humber nourished and tended +the boy committed to her charge with the greatest care. +When he was come to a fitting age she made him to +be knighted of her lord, for goodly and serviceable was +the lad. On the same day the aunt read over to him +the letter, and put in his hand the ring. She told him +the name of his mother, and his father's story. In all +the world there was no worthier knight, nor a more +chivalrous and gallant gentleman. The lad hearkened +diligently to the lady's tale. He rejoiced greatly to hear +of his father's prowess, and was proud beyond measure of +his renown. He considered within himself, saying to his +own heart, that much should be required of his father's +son, and that he would not be worthy of his blood if he +did not endeavour to merit his name. He determined +therefore that he would leave his country, and seek +adventure as a knight errant, beyond the sea. The +varlet delayed no longer than the evening. On the morrow +he bade farewell to his aunt, who having warned and +admonished him for his good, gave him largely of her +wealth, to bring him on his way. He rode to Southampton, +that he might find a ship equipped for sea, +and so came to Barfleur. Without any tarrying the lad +went straight to Brittany, where he spent his money and +himself in feasts and in tourneys. The rich men of the +land were glad of his friendship, for there was none who +bore himself better in the press with spear or with sword. +What he took from the rich he bestowed on such knights +as were poor and luckless. These loved him greatly, +since he gained largely and spent freely, granting of his +wealth to all. Wherever this knight sojourned in the +realm he bore away the prize. So debonair was he and +chivalrous that his fame and praise crossed the water, +and were noised abroad in his own land. Folk told how a +certain knight from beyond the Humber, who had passed +the sea in quest of wealth and honour, had so done, that +by reason of his prowess, his liberality, and his modesty, +men called him the Knight Peerless, since they did not +know his name.</p> + +<p>This praise of the good knight, and of his deeds, came +to be heard of Milon. Very dolent was he and sorely +troubled that so young a knight should be esteemed above +his fathers. He marvelled greatly that the stout spears +of the past had not put on their harness and broken a +lance for their ancient honour. One thing he determined, +that he would cross the sea without delay, so that he +might joust with the dansellon, and abate his pride. In +wrath and anger he purposed to fight, to beat his adversary +from the saddle, and bring him at last to shame. +After this was ended he would seek his son, of whom he +had heard nothing, since he had gone from his aunt's +castle. Milon caused his friend to know of his wishes. +He opened out to her all his thought, and craved her +permission to depart. This letter he sent by the swan, +commending the bird to her care.</p> + +<p>When the lady heard of her lover's purpose, she thanked +him for his courtesy, for greatly was his counsel to her +mind. She approved his desire to quit the realm for +the sake of his honour, and far from putting let and +hindrance in his path, trusted that in the end he would +bring again her son. Since Milon was assured of his +friend's goodwill, he arrayed himself richly, and crossing +the sea to Normandy, came afterwards into the land of +the Bretons. There he sought the friendship of the lords +of that realm, and fared to all the tournaments of which +he might hear. Milon bore himself proudly, and gave +graciously of his wealth, as though he were receiving a +gift. He sojourned till the winter was past in that land, +he, and a brave company of knights whom he held in his +house with him. When Easter had come, and the season +that men give to tourneys and wars and the righting of +their private wrongs, Milon considered how he could meet +with the knight whom men called Peerless. At that +time a tournament was proclaimed to be held at Mont +St. Michel. Many a Norman and Breton rode to the +game; knights of Flanders and of France were there in +plenty, but few fared from England. Milon drew to the +lists amongst the first. He inquired diligently of the +young champion, and all men were ready to tell from +whence he came, and of his harness, and of the blazon on +his shield. At length the knight appeared in the lists and +Milon looked upon the adversary he so greatly desired +to see. Now in this tournament a knight could joust +with that lord who was set over against him, or he could +seek to break a lance with his chosen foe. A player must +gain or lose, and he might find himself opposed either +by his comrade or his enemy. Milon did well and worshipfully +in the press, and was praised of many that +day. But the Knight Peerless carried the cry from all +his fellows, for none might stand before him, nor rival +him in skill and address. Milon observed him curiously. +The lad struck so heavily, he thrust home so shrewdly, that +Milon's hatred changed to envy as he watched. Very +comely showed the varlet, and much to Milon's mind. +The older knight set himself over against the champion, +and they met together in the centre of the field. Milon +struck his adversary so fiercely, that the lance splintered +in his gauntlet; but the young knight kept his seat +without even losing a stirrup. In return his spear was +aimed with such cunning that he bore his antagonist +to the ground. Milon lay upon the earth bareheaded, +for his helmet was unlaced in the shock. His hair and +beard showed white to all, and the varlet was heavy to +look on him whom he had overthrown. He caught +the destrier by the bridle, and led him before the stricken +man.</p> + +<p>"Sir," said he, "I pray you to get upon your horse. +I am right grieved and vexed that I should have done +this wrong. Believe me that it was wrought unwittingly."</p> + +<p>Milon sprang upon his steed. He approved the +courtesy of his adversary, and looking upon the hand +that held his bridle, he knew again his ring. He made +inquiry of the lad.</p> + +<p>"Friend," said he, "hearken to me. Tell me now +the name of thy sire. How art thou called; who is +thy mother? I have seen much, and gone to and fro +about the world. All my life I have journeyed from realm +to realm, by reason of tourneys and quarrels and princes' +wars, yet never once by any knight have I been borne +from my horse. This day I am overthrown by a boy, +and yet I cannot help but love thee."</p> + +<p>The varlet answered, +"I know little of my father. I understand that his +name is Milon, and that he was a knight of Wales. +He loved the daughter of a rich man, and was loved +again. My mother bore me in secret, and caused me +to be carried to Northumberland, where I was taught and +tended. An old aunt was at the costs of my nourishing. +She kept me at her side, till of all her gifts she gave me +horse and arms, and sent me here, where I have remained. +In hope and wish I purpose to cross the sea, and return +to my own realm. There I would seek out my father, +and learn how it stands between him and my mother. +I will show him my golden ring, and I will tell him +of such privy matters that he may not deny our +kinship, but must love me as a son, and ever hold me +dear."</p> + +<p>When Milon heard these words he could endure +them no further. He got him swiftly from his horse, +and taking the lad by the fringe of his hauberk, he +cried, +"Praise be to God, for now am I healed. Fair friend, +by my faith thou art my very son, for whom I came +forth from my own land, and have sought through all +this realm."</p> + +<p>The varlet climbed from the saddle, and stood upon +his feet. Father and son kissed each other tenderly, +with many comfortable words. Their love was fair to +see, and those who looked upon their meeting, wept +for joy and pity.</p> +<br> + +<p>Milon and his son departed from the tournament so +soon as it came to an end, for the knight desired greatly +to speak to the varlet at leisure, and to open before him +all his mind. They rode to their hostel, and with the +knights of their fellowship, passed the hours in mirth +and revelry. Milon spoke to the lad of his mother. He +told him of their long love, and how she was given by +her father in marriage to a baron of his realm. He +rehearsed the years of separation, accepted by both +with a good heart, and of the messenger who carried +letters between them, when there was none they dared +to trust in, save only the swan.</p> + +<p>The son made answer,</p> + +<p>"In faith, fair father, let us return to our own land. +There I will slay this husband, and you shall yet be +my mother's lord."</p> + +<p>This being accorded between them, on the morrow they +made them ready for the journey, and bidding farewell to +their friends, set forth for Wales. They embarked in a +propitious hour, for a fair wind carried the ship right +swiftly to its haven. They had not ridden far upon +their road, when they met a certain squire of the lady's +household on his way to Brittany, bearing letters to +Milon. His task was done long before sundown in +chancing on the knight. He gave over the sealed +writing with which he was charged, praying the knight to +hasten to his friend without any tarrying, since her +husband was in his grave. Milon rejoiced greatly when +he knew this thing. He showed the message to his son, +and pressed forward without pause or rest. They made +such speed, that at the end they came to the castle where +the lady had her lodging. Light of heart was she +when she clasped again her child. These two fond +lovers sought neither countenance of their kin, nor counsel +of any man. Their son handselled them together, and +gave the mother to his sire. From the day they were wed +they dwelt in wealth and in sweetness to the end of +their lives.</p> + +<p>Of their love and content the minstrel wrought this +Lay. I, also, who have set it down in writing, have won +guerdon enough just by telling over the tale.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="XIII"></a><h2>XIII</h2> + +<p>THE LAY OF YONEC</p> +<br> + +<p>Since I have commenced I would not leave any of these +Lays untold. The stories that I know I would tell +you forthwith. My hope is now to rehearse to you the +story of Yonec, the son of Eudemarec, his mother's +first born child.</p> + +<p>In days of yore there lived in Britain a rich man, old +and full of years, who was lord of the town and realm of +Chepstow. This town is builded on the banks of the +Douglas, and is renowned by reason of many ancient +sorrows which have there befallen. When he was well +stricken in years this lord took to himself a wife, that he +might have children to come after him in his goodly +heritage. The damsel, who was bestowed on this +wealthy lord, came of an honourable house, and was +kind and courteous, and passing fair. She was beloved +by all because of her beauty, and none was more sweetly +spoken of from Chepstow to Lincoln, yea, or from there +to Ireland. Great was their sin who married the maiden +to this aged man. Since she was young and gay, he +shut her fast within his tower, that he might the easier +keep her to himself. He set in charge of the damsel +his elder sister, a widow, to hold her more surely in +ward. These two ladies dwelt alone in the tower, together +with their women, in a chamber by themselves. There +the damsel might have speech of none, except at the +bidding of the ancient dame. More than seven years +passed in this fashion. The lady had no children for +her solace, and she never went forth from the castle +to greet her kinsfolk and her friends. Her husband's +jealousy was such that when she sought her bed, no +chamberlain or usher was permitted in her chamber +to light the candles. The lady became passing heavy. +She spent her days in sighs and tears. Her loveliness +began to fail, for she gave no thought to her person. +Indeed at times she hated the very shadow of that beauty +which had spoiled all her life.</p> + +<p>Now when April had come with the gladness of the +birds, this lord rose early on a day to take his pleasure +in the woods. He bade his sister to rise from her bed +to make the doors fast behind him. She did his will, +and going apart, commenced to read the psalter that +she carried in her hand. The lady awoke, and shamed +the brightness of the sun with her tears. She saw that +the old woman was gone forth from the chamber, so +she made her complaint without fear of being overheard.</p> + +<p>"Alas," said she, "in an ill hour was I born. My +lot is hard to be shut in this tower, never to go out till +I am carried to my grave. Of whom is this jealous +lord fearful that he holds me so fast in prison? Great +is a man's folly always to have it in mind that he may +be deceived. I cannot go to church, nor hearken to the +service of God. If I might talk to folk, or have a little +pleasure in my life, I should show the more tenderness +to my husband, as is my wish. Very greatly are my +parents and my kin to blame for giving me to this +jealous old man, and making us one flesh. I cannot even +look to become a widow, for he will never die. In place +of the waters of baptism, certainly he was plunged in +the flood of the Styx. His nerves are like iron, and his +veins quick with blood as those of a young man. Often +have I heard that in years gone by things chanced to the +sad, which brought their sorrows to an end. A knight +would meet with a maiden, fresh and fair to his desire. +Damsels took to themselves lovers, discreet and brave, +and were blamed of none. Moreover since these ladies +were not seen of any, except their friends, who was +there to count them blameworthy! Perchance I deceive +myself, and in spite of all the tales, such adventures +happened to none. Ah, if only the mighty God would +but shape the world to my wish!"</p> + +<p>When the lady had made her plaint, as you have +known, the shadow of a great bird darkened the narrow +window, so that she marvelled what it might mean. +This falcon flew straightway into the chamber, jessed +and hooded from the glove, and came where the dame +was seated. Whilst the lady yet wondered upon him, +the tercel became a young and comely knight before her +eyes. The lady marvelled exceedingly at this sorcery. +Her blood turned to water within her, and because of +her dread she hid her face in her hands. By reason of +his courtesy the knight first sought to persuade her to +put away her fears.</p> + +<p>"Lady," said he, "be not so fearful. To you this +hawk shall be as gentle as a dove. If you will listen to +my words I will strive to make plain what may now be +dark. I have come in this shape to your tower that I +may pray you of your tenderness to make of me your +friend. I have loved you for long, and in my heart +have esteemed your love above anything in the world. +Save for you I have never desired wife or maid, and I +shall find no other woman desirable, until I die. I should +have sought you before, but I might not come, nor even +leave my own realm, till you called me in your need. +Lady, in charity, take me as your friend."</p> + +<p>The lady took heart and courage whilst she hearkened +to these words. Presently she uncovered her face, and +made answer. She said that perchance she would be +willing to give him again his hope, if only she had assurance +of his faith in God. This she said because of her +fear, but in her heart she loved him already by reason +of his great beauty. Never in her life had she beheld +so goodly a youth, nor a knight more fair.</p> + +<p>"Lady," he replied, "you ask rightly. For nothing +that man can give would I have you doubt my faith and +affiance. I believe truly in God, the Maker of all, who +redeemed us from the woe brought on us by our father +Adam, in the eating of that bitter fruit. This God is +and was and ever shall be the life and light of us poor +sinful men. If you still give no credence to my word, +ask for your chaplain; tell him that since you are sick +you greatly desire to hear the Service appointed by +God to heal the sinner of his wound. I will take your +semblance, and receive the Body of the Lord. You will +thus be certified of my faith, and never have reason +to mistrust me more."</p> + +<p>When the sister of that ancient lord returned from +her prayers to the chamber, she found that the lady +was awake. She told her that since it was time to get +her from bed, she would make ready her vesture. The +lady made answer that she was sick, and begged her +to warn the chaplain, for greatly she feared that she +might die. The agèd dame replied,</p> + +<p>"You must endure as best you may, for my lord +has gone to the woods, and none will enter in the tower, +save me."</p> + +<p>Right distressed was the lady to hear these words. +She called a woman's wiles to her aid, and made seeming +to swoon upon her bed. This was seen by the sister of +her lord, and much was she dismayed. She set wide +the doors of the chamber, and summoned the priest. +The chaplain came as quickly as he was able, carrying +with him the Lord's Body. The knight received the +Gift, and drank of the Wine of that chalice; then the +priest went his way, and the old woman made fast the +door behind him.</p> + +<p>The knight and the lady were greatly at their ease; +a comelier and a blither pair were never seen. They +had much to tell one to the other, but the hours passed +till it was time for the knight to go again to his own +realm. He prayed the dame to give him leave to depart, +and she sweetly granted his prayer, yet so only that he +promised to return often to her side.</p> + +<p>"Lady," he made answer, "so you please to require +me at any hour, you may be sure that I shall hasten at +your pleasure. But I beg you to observe such +measure in the matter, that none may do us wrong. +This old woman will spy upon us night and day, and if +she observes our friendship, will certainly show it to +her lord. Should this evil come upon us, for both it +means separation, and for me, most surely, death."</p> + +<p>The knight returned to his realm, leaving behind +him the happiest lady in the land. On the morrow +she rose sound and well, and went lightly through the +week. She took such heed to her person, that her former +beauty came to her again. The tower that she was wont +to hate as her prison, became to her now as a pleasant +lodging, that she would not leave for any abode and +garden on earth. There she could see her friend at will, +when once her lord had gone forth from the chamber. +Early and late, at morn and eve, the lovers met together. +God grant her joy was long, against the evil day that +came.</p> + +<p>The husband of the lady presently took notice of +the change in his wife's fashion and person. He was +troubled in his soul, and misdoubting his sister, took +her apart to reason with her on a day. He told her of +his wonder that his dame arrayed her so sweetly, and +inquired what this should mean. The crone answered +that she knew no more than he, "for we have very little +speech one with another. She sees neither kin nor friend; +but, now, she seems quite content to remain alone in +her chamber."</p> + +<p>The husband made reply,</p> + +<p>"Doubtless she is content, and well content. But +by my faith, we must do all we may to discover the +cause. Hearken to me. Some morning when I have +risen from bed, and you have shut the doors upon me, +make pretence to go forth, and let her think herself +alone. You must hide yourself in a privy place, where +you can both hear and see. We shall then learn the +secret of this new found joy."</p> + +<p>Having devised this snare the twain went their ways. +Alas, for those who were innocent of their counsel, and +whose feet would soon be tangled in the net.</p> + +<p>Three days after, this husband pretended to go forth +from his house. He told his wife that the King had +bidden him by letters to his Court, but that he should +return speedily. He went from the chamber, making +fast the door. His sister arose from her bed, and hid +behind her curtains, where she might see and hear +what so greedily she desired to know. The lady could +not sleep, so fervently she wished for her friend. The +knight came at her call, but he might not tarry, nor +cherish her more than one single hour. Great was the +joy between them, both in word and tenderness, till +he could no longer stay. All this the crone saw with +her eyes, and stored in her heart. She watched the +fashion in which he came, and the guise in which he +went. But she was altogether fearful and amazed that +so goodly a knight should wear the semblance of a hawk. +When the husband returned to his house—for he was +near at hand—his sister told him that of which she was +the witness, and of the truth concerning the knight. +Right heavy was he and wrathful. Straightway he +contrived a cunning gin for the slaying of this bird. He +caused four blades of steel to be fashioned, with point +and edge sharper than the keenest razor. These he +fastened firmly together, and set them securely within +that window, by which the tercel would come to his +lady. Ah, God, that a knight so fair might not see nor +hear of this wrong, and that there should be none to +show him of such treason.</p> + +<p>On the morrow the husband arose very early, at daybreak, +saying that he should hunt within the wood. +His sister made the doors fast behind him, and returned +to her bed to sleep, because it was yet but dawn. The +lady lay awake, considering of the knight whom she +loved so loyally. Tenderly she called him to her side. +Without any long tarrying the bird came flying at her +will. He flew in at the open window, and was entangled +amongst the blades of steel. One blade pierced his +body so deeply, that the red blood gushed from the +wound. When the falcon knew that his hurt was to +death, he forced himself to pass the barrier, and coming +before his lady fell upon her bed, so that the sheets +were dabbled with his blood. The lady looked upon +her friend and his wound, and was altogether anguished +and distraught.</p> + +<p>"Sweet friend," said the knight, "it is for you that +my life is lost. Did I not speak truly that if our loves +were known, very surely I should be slain?"</p> + +<p>On hearing these words the lady's head fell upon the +pillow, and for a space she lay as she were dead. The +knight cherished her sweetly. He prayed her not to +sorrow overmuch, since she should bear a son who would +be her exceeding comfort. His name should be called +Yonec. He would prove a valiant knight, and would +avenge both her and him by slaying their enemy. The +knight could stay no longer, for he was bleeding to death +from his hurt. In great dolour of mind and body he +flew from the chamber. The lady pursued the bird +with many shrill cries. In her desire to follow him she +sprang forth from the window. Marvellous it was that +she was not killed outright, for the window was fully +twenty feet from the ground. When the lady made her +perilous leap she was clad only in her shift. Dressed +in this fashion she set herself to follow the knight by +the drops of blood which dripped from his wound. She +went along the road that he had gone before, till she +lighted on a little lodge. This lodge had but one door, +and it was stained with blood. By the marks on the +lintel she knew that Eudemarec had refreshed him in the +hut, but she could not tell whether he was yet within. +The damsel entered in the lodge, but all was dark, and +since she might not find him, she came forth, and pursued +her way. She went so far that at the last the lady +came to a very fair meadow. She followed the track +of blood across this meadow, till she saw a city near at +hand. This fair city was altogether shut in with high +walls. There was no house, nor hall, nor tower, but +shone bright as silver, so rich were the folk who dwelt +therein. Before the town lay a still water. To the right +spread a leafy wood, and on the left hand, near by the +keep, ran a clear river. By this broad stream the ships +drew to their anchorage, for there were above three +hundred lying in the haven. The lady entered in the +city by the postern gate. The gouts of freshly fallen +blood led her through the streets to the castle. None +challenged her entrance to the city; none asked of her +business in the streets; she passed neither man nor +woman upon her way. Spots of red blood lay on the +staircase of the palace. The lady entered and found +herself within a low ceiled room, where a knight was +sleeping on a pallet. She looked upon his face and +passed beyond. She came within a larger room, empty, +save for one lonely couch, and for the knight who slept +thereon. But when the lady entered in the third chamber +she saw a stately bed, that well she knew to be her +friend's. This bed was of inwrought gold, and was +spread with silken cloths beyond price. The furniture +was worth the ransom of a city, and waxen torches in +sconces of silver lighted the chamber, burning night and +day. Swiftly as the lady had come she knew again her +friend, directly she saw him with her eyes. She hastened +to the bed, and incontinently swooned for grief. The +knight clasped her in his arms, bewailing his wretched +lot, but when she came to her mind, he comforted her +as sweetly as he might.</p> + +<p>"Fair friend, for God's love I pray you get from +hence as quickly as you are able. My time will end before +the day, and my household, in their wrath, may do you +a mischief if you are found in the castle. They are +persuaded that by reason of your love I have come to +my death. Fair friend, I am right heavy and sorrowful +because of you."</p> + +<p>The lady made answer, +"Friend, the best thing that can befall me is that we +shall die together. How may I return to my husband? +If he finds me again he will certainly slay me with the +sword."</p> + +<p>The knight consoled her as he could. He bestowed +a ring upon his friend, teaching her that so long as she +wore the gift, her husband would think of none of these +things, nor care for her person, nor seek to revenge him +for his wrongs. Then he took his sword and rendered +it to the lady, conjuring her by their great love, never +to give it to the hand of any, till their son should be +counted a brave and worthy knight. When that time +was come she and her lord would go—together with +the son—to a feast. They would lodge in an Abbey, +where should be seen a very fair tomb. There her son +must be told of this death; there he must be girt +with this sword. In that place shall be rehearsed the +tale of his birth, and his father, and all this bitter +wrong. And then shall be seen what he will do.</p> + +<p>When the knight had shown his friend all that was +in his heart, he gave her a bliaut, passing rich, that she +might clothe her body, and get her from the palace. +She went her way, according to his command, bearing +with her the ring, and the sword that was her most +precious treasure. She had not gone half a mile beyond +the gate of the city when she heard the clash of bells, +and the cries of men who lamented the death of their +lord. Her grief was such that she fell four separate +times upon the road, and four times she came from out +her swoon. She bent her steps to the lodge where her +friend had refreshed him, and rested for awhile. Passing +beyond she came at last to her own land, and returned +to her husband's tower. There, for many a day, she +dwelt in peace, since—as Eudemarec foretold—her +lord gave no thought to her outgoings, nor wished to +avenge him, neither spied upon her any more.</p> + +<p>In due time the lady was delivered of a son, whom +she named Yonec. Very sweetly nurtured was the lad. +In all the realm there was not his like for beauty and +generosity, nor one more skilled with the spear. When +he was of a fitting age the King dubbed him knight. +Hearken now, what chanced to them all, that self-same +year.</p> + +<p>It was the custom of that country to keep the feast +of St. Aaron with great pomp at Caerleon, and many +another town besides. The husband rode with his +friends to observe the festival, as was his wont. Together +with him went his wife and her son, richly +apparelled. As the roads were not known of the company, +and they feared to lose their way, they took with +them a certain youth to lead them in the straight path. +The varlet brought them to a town; in all the world +was none so fair. Within this city was a mighty Abbey, +filled with monks in their holy habit. The varlet craved +a lodging for the night, and the pilgrims were welcomed +gladly of the monks, who gave them meat and drink +near by the Abbot's table. On the morrow, after Mass, +they would have gone their way, but the Abbot prayed +them to tarry for a little, since he would show them his +chapter house and dormitory, and all the offices of the +Abbey. As the Abbot had sheltered them so courteously, +the husband did according to his wish.</p> + +<p>Immediately that the dinner had come to an end, +the pilgrims rose from table, and visited the offices of +the Abbey. Coming to the chapter house they entered +therein, and found a fair tomb, exceeding great, covered +with a silken cloth, banded with orfreys of gold. Twenty +torches of wax stood around this rich tomb, at the head, +the foot, and the sides. The candlesticks were of fine +gold, and the censer swung in that chantry was fashioned +from an amethyst. When the pilgrims saw the great +reverence vouchsafed to this tomb, they inquired of +the guardians as to whom it should belong, and of the +lord who lay therein. The monks commenced to weep, +and told with tears, that in that place was laid the body +of the best, the bravest, and the fairest knight who ever +was, or ever should be born. "In his life he was King +of this realm, and never was there so worshipful a lord. +He was slain at Caerwent for the love of a lady of those +parts. Since then the country is without a King. Many +a day have we waited for the son of these luckless lovers +to come to our land, even as our lord commanded us +to do."</p> + +<p>When the lady heard these words she cried to her +son with a loud voice before them all.</p> + +<p>"Fair son," said she, "you have heard why God +has brought us to this place. It is your father who lies +dead within this tomb. Foully was he slain by this +ancient Judas at your side."</p> + +<p>With these words she plucked out the sword, and +tendered him the glaive that she had guarded for so +long a season. As swiftly as she might she told the +tale of how Eudemarec came to have speech with his +friend in the guise of a hawk; how the bird was betrayed +to his death by the jealousy of her lord; and of Yonec +the falcon's son. At the end she fell senseless across +the tomb, neither did she speak any further word until +the soul had gone from her body. When the son saw +that his mother lay dead upon her lover's grave, he +raised his father's sword and smote the head of that +ancient traitor from his shoulders. In that hour he +avenged his father's death, and with the same blow +gave quittance for the wrongs of his mother. As soon +as these tidings were published abroad, the folk of that +city came together, and setting the body of that fair +lady within a coffin, sealed it fast, and with due rite +and worship placed it beside the body of her friend. +May God grant them pardon and peace. As to Yonec, +their son, the people acclaimed him for their lord, as +he departed from the church.</p> + +<p>Those who knew the truth of this piteous adventure, +after many days shaped it to a Lay, that all men might +learn the plaint and the dolour that these two friends +suffered by reason of their love.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="XIV"></a><h2>XIV</h2> + +<p>THE LAY OF THE THORN</p> +<br> + +<p>Whosoever counts these Lays as fable, may be assured +that I am not of his mind. The dead and past stories +that I have told again in divers fashions, are not set +down without authority. The chronicles of these far off +times are yet preserved in the land. They may be read +by the curious at Caerleon, or in the monastery of St. +Aaron. They may be heard in Brittany, and in many +another realm besides. To prove how the remembrance +of such tales endures, I will now relate to you the +adventure of the Two Children, making clear what has +remained hidden to this very hour.</p> + +<p>In Brittany there lived a prince, high of spirit, fair of +person, courteous and kind to all. This Childe was a +King's son, and there were none to cherish him but his +father and his father's wife, for his mother was dead. +The King held him dearer than aught else in the world, +and close he was to the lady's heart. The lady, for +her part, had a daughter by another husband than +the King. Very dainty was the maiden, sweet of colour +and of face, passing young and fair. Both these children, +born to so high estate, were right tender of age, for the +varlet, who was the elder of the twain, was but seven +years. The two children loved together very sweetly. +Nothing seemed of worth to one, if it were not shared +with the other. They were nourished at the same table, +went their ways together, and lived side by side. The +guardians who held them in ward, seeing their great love, +made no effort to put them apart, but allowed them to +have all things in common. The love of these children +increased with their years, but Dame Nature brought +another love to youth and maid than she gave to the +child. They delighted no more in their old frolic and +play. Such sport gave place to clasp and kisses, to +many words, and to long silences. To savour their +friendship they took refuge in an attic of the keep, but all +the years they had passed together, made the new love +flower more sweetly in their hearts, as each knew well. +Very pure and tender was their love, and good would it +have been if they could have hidden it from their fellows. +This might not be, for in no great while they were spied +upon, and seen.</p> + +<p>It chanced upon a day that this prince, so young and +debonair, came home from the river with an aching +head, by reason of the heat. He entered in a chamber, +and shutting out the noise and clamour, lay upon his +bed, to ease his pain. The Queen was with her daughter +in a chamber, instructing her meetly in that which it +becomes a maid to know. Closer to a damsel's heart is +her lover than her kin. So soon as she heard that her +friend was come again to the house, she stole forth from +her mother, without saying word to any, and accompanied +by none, went straight to the chamber where he +slept. The prince welcomed her gladly, for they had not +met together that day. The lady, who thought no wrong, +condoled with him in his sickness, and of her sweetness +gave him a hundred kisses to soothe his hurt. Too +swiftly sped the time in this fashion. Presently the +Queen noticed that the damsel was no longer with her +at her task. She rose to her feet, and going quickly to +the chamber of the prince, entered therein without call +or knock, for the door was unfastened on the latch. +When the Queen saw these two lovers fondly laced in +each other's arms, she knew and was certified of their +love. Right wrathful was the Queen. She caught the +maiden by the wrist, and shut her fast in her room. She +prayed the King to govern his son more strictly, and to +hold him in such ward about the Court that he might get +no speech with the damsel. Since he could have neither +sight nor word of his friend, save only the sound of weeping +from her chamber, the prince determined to tarry no further +in the palace. He sought his father the self-same +hour, and showed him what was in his mind.</p> + +<p>"Sire," said he, "I crave a gift. If it pleases you to be +a father to your son, make me now a knight. I desire to +seek another realm, and to serve some prince for guerdon. +The road calls me, for many a knight has won much +riches with his sword."</p> + +<p>The King did not refuse the lad's request, but accorded +it should be even as he wished. He prayed the prince to +dwell for a year about the Court, that he might the more +readily assist at such tourneys and follow such feats of +arms as were proclaimed in the kingdom. This the prince +agreed to do—the more readily because there was +nothing else to be done. He remained therefore at the +Court, moving ever by his father's side. The maiden, for +her part, was in the charge of her mother, who reproached +her always for that she had done amiss. The Queen did +not content herself with reproaches and threats. She +used the sharp discipline upon her, so that the maiden +suffered grievously in her person. Sick at heart was +the varlet whilst he hearkened to the beatings, the +discipline and the chastisement wherewith her mother +corrected the damsel. He knew not what to do, for +well he understood that his was the fault, and that by +reason of him was her neck bowed down in her youth. +More and more was he tormented because of his friend.</p> + +<p>More and more the stripes with which she was afflicted +became heavier for him to bear. He shut himself close +within his chamber, and making fast the door, gave his +heart over to tears.</p> + +<p>"Alas," cried he, "what shall I do! How may the +ill be cured that I have brought on us by my lightness +and folly! I love her more than life, and, certes, if I +may not have my friend I will prove that I can die for +her, though I cannot live without her."</p> + +<p>Whilst the prince made this lamentation, the Queen +came before the King.</p> + +<p>"Sir," said she, "I pledge my oath and word as a +crowned lady that I keep my daughter as strictly as I +may. Think to your own son, and see to it that he cannot +set eyes on the maid. He considers none other thing +but how to get clasp and speech of his friend."</p> + +<p>For this reason the King guarded his son about the +Court as closely as the Queen held the maiden in her +chamber. So vigilant was the watch that these pitiful +lovers might never have word together. They had no +leisure to meet; they never looked one on the other; +nor heard tidings of how they did, whether by letter +or by sergeant.</p> + +<p>They lived this death in life till the same year—eight +days before the Feast of St. John—the varlet was dubbed +knight. The King spent the day in the chase, and +returning, brought with him great store of fowl and +venison that he had taken. After supper, when the +tables were removed, the King seated himself for his +delight upon a carpet spread before the dais, his son +and many a courteous lord with him. The fair company +gave ear to the Lay of Alys, sweetly sung by a minstrel +from Ireland, to the music of his rote. When his story +was ended, forthwith he commenced another, and related +the Lay of Orpheus; none being so bold as to disturb +the singer, or to let his mind wander from the song. +Afterwards the knights spoke together amongst themselves. +They told of adventures which in ancient days +had chanced to many, and were noised about Brittany. +Amongst these lords sat a damsel, passing sweet of +tongue. In her turn she told of a certain adventure +which awaited the adventurous at the Ford of the +Thorn, once every year, on the vigil of St. John, "but +much I doubt whether now there be knights so bold +as to dare the perils of that passage." When the newly +made knight heard these words his pride quickened +within him. He considered that although he was belted +with the sword, he had as yet done no deed to prove +his courage in the eyes of men. He deemed the time +had come to show his hardihood, and to put to silence +the malicious lips. He stood upon his feet, calling +upon damsel, King and barons to hearken to his voice, +and spake out manfully in the ears of great and small.</p> + +<p>"Lords," cried he, "whatever says the maiden, I +boast before you all that on St. John's Eve I will ride +alone to the Ford of the Thorn, and dare this adventure, +whether it bring me gain or whether it bring me loss."</p> + +<p>The King was right heavy to hear these words. He +thought them to be the gab and idle speech of a boy.</p> + +<p>"Fair son," said he, "put this folly from your mind."</p> + +<p>But when the King was persuaded that whether it +were foolishness or wisdom the lad was determined to +go his way, and abide the issue of the adventure,</p> + +<p>"Go swiftly," said he, "in the care of God. Since +risk your life you must, play it boldly like a pawn, and +may God grant you heart's desire and happy hours."</p> + +<p>The self-same night, whilst the lad lay sleeping in +his bed, that fair lady, his friend, was in much unrest +in hers. The tidings of her lover's boast had been carried +quickly to her chamber, and sorely was she adread for +what might chance. When the Eve of St. John was +come, and the day drew towards evening, the varlet, +with all fair hopes, made him ready to ride to the Ford +Adventurous. He had clad himself from basnet to +shoes in steel, and mounted on a strong destrier, went +his road to essay the Passage of the Thorn. Whilst he +took his path the maiden took hers. She went furtively +to the orchard, that she might importune God to bring +her friend again, safe and sound to his own house. She +seated herself on the roots of a tree, and with sighs and +tears lamented her piteous case.</p> + +<p>"Father of Heaven," said the girl, "Who was and +ever shall be, be pitiful to my prayer. Since it is not +to Thy will that any man should be wretched, be +merciful to a most unhappy maid. Fair Sire, give back +the days that are gone, when my friend was at my side, +and grant that once again I may be with him. Lord +God of Hosts, when shall I be healed? None knows the +bitterness of my sorrow, for none may taste thereof, +save such as set their heart on what they may not have. +These only, Lord, know the wormwood and the gall."</p> + +<p>Thus prayed the maiden, seated on the roots of that +ancient tree, her feet upon the tender grass. At the time +of her orisons much was she sought and inquired after +in the palace, but none might find where she had hidden. +The damsel herself was given over altogether to her love +and her sorrow, and had no thought for anything, save +for prayers and tears. The night wore through, and +dawn already laced the sky, when she fell on a little +slumber, in the tree where she was sheltered. She woke +with a start, but returned to her sleep more deeply +than before. She had not slept long, when herseemed +she was ravished from the tree—but I cannot make +this plain for I know no wizardry—to that Ford of the +Thorn, where her friend and lover had repaired. The +knight looked upon the sleeping maiden, and marvelled +at so fair a sight. All adread was the lady when she +came from her slumber, for she knew not where she +lay, and wondered greatly. She covered her head by +reason of her exceeding fear, but the knight consoled +her courteously.</p> + +<p>"Diva," said he, "there is no reason for terror. If +you are an earthly woman, speaking with a mortal +tongue, tell me your story. Tell me in what guise and +manner you came so suddenly to this secret place."</p> + +<p>The maiden began to be of more courage, till she +remembered that she was no longer in the orchard of +the castle. She inquired of the knight to what haunt +she had come.</p> + +<p>"Lady," he made answer, "you are laid at the Ford +of the Thorn, where adventures chance to the seeker, +sometimes greatly against the mind, and sometimes +altogether according to the heart."</p> + +<p>"Ah, dear God," cried the lady, "now shall I be made +whole. Sir, look a little closer upon me, for I have been +your friend. Thanks be to God, who so soon has heard +my prayer."</p> + +<p>This was the beginning of adventures which happened +that night to the seeker. The maiden hastened to +embrace her lover. He got him nimbly from his horse, +and taking her softly between his arms, kissed her with +more kisses than I can tell. Then they sat together +beneath the thorn, and the damsel told how she fell +asleep within that old tree in the pleasaunce, of how +she was rapt from thence in her slumber, and of how, +yet sleeping, he came upon her by the Ford. When the +knight had hearkened to all that she had to say, he +looked from her face, and glancing across the river, +marked a lord, with lifted lance, riding to the ford. +This knight wore harness of a fair vermeil colour, and +bestrode a horse white of body, save for his two ears, +which were red as the rider's mail. Slender of girdle +was this knight, and he made no effort to enter the river, +but drew rein upon the other side of the passage, +and watched. The varlet said to his friend that it became +his honour to essay some feats of arms with this adversary. +He got to horse, and rode to the river, leaving +the maiden beneath the thorn. Had she but found +another horse at need, very surely would she have ridden +to his aid. The two knights drew together as swiftly +as their steeds could bear them. They thrust so shrewdly +with the lance, that their shields were split and broken. +The spears splintered in the gauntlet, and both champions +were unhorsed by the shock, rolling on the sand; +but nothing worse happened to them. Since they had +neither squire nor companion to help them on their +feet, they pained them grievously to get them from the +ground. When they might climb upon their steeds, +they hung again the buckler about the neck, and lowered +their ashen spears. Passing heavy was the varlet, for +shame that his friend had seen him thrown. The two +champions met together in the onset, but the prince +struck his adversary so cunningly with the lance, that +the laces of his buckler were broken, and the shield +fell from his body. When the varlet saw this he rejoiced +greatly, for he knew that the eyes of his friend were upon +him. He pressed his quarrel right fiercely, and tumbling +his foe from the saddle, seized his horse by the bridle.<a name="FNanchor2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2"><sup>[2]</sup></a></p> + +<p>The two knights passed the ford, and the prince +feared sorely because of the skill and mightiness of his +adversary. He could not doubt that if they fell upon +him together he would perish at their hands. He put +the thought from mind, for he would not suspect them +of conduct so unbecoming to gentle knight, and so +contrary to the laws of chivalry. If they desired some +passage of arms, doubtless they would joust as gentlemen, +and each for himself alone. When these three knights +were mounted on their steeds, they crossed the ford +with courtesy and order, each seeking to give precedence +to his companion. Having come to the bank +the stranger knights prayed the prince to run a course +for their pleasure. He answered that it was his wish, +too, and made him ready for the battle. The prince +rejoiced greatly when he saw one of these two adversaries +ride a little apart, that he might the more easily observe +the combat. He was assured that he would suffer no +felony at their hands. For their part the two knights +were persuaded that they had to do with an errant who +had ridden to the ford for no other gain than honour +and praise. The two adversaries took their places +within the lists. They lowered their lance, and covering +their bodies with the shield, smote fiercely together. +So rude was the shock that the staves of the spears +were broken, and the strong destriers were thrown upon +their haunches. Neither of the good knights had lost +his saddle. Each of the combatants got him to his feet, +and drawing the sword, pressed upon his fellow, till the +blood began to flow. When the knight who judged this +quarrel saw their prowess, he came near, and commanded +that the battle should cease. The adversaries drew apart, +and struck no further blow with the sword. Right +courteously and with fair words he spake to the prince. +"Friend," said the knight, "get to your horse, and +break a lance with me. Then we can go in peace, for +our time grows short. You must endure till the light be +come if you hope to gain the prize. Do your devoir, +valiantly, for should you chance to be thrown in this +course, or slain by misadventure, you have lost your +desire. None will ever hear of this adventure; all +your life you will remain little and obscure. Your maiden +will be led away by the victor, seated on the good +Castilian horse you have gained by right of courage. +Fight bravely. The trappings of the destrier are worth +the spoil of a king's castle, and as for the horse himself +he is the swiftest and the fairest in the world. Be not +amazed that I tell you of these matters. I have watched +you joust, and know you for a hardy knight and a +gallant gentleman. Besides I stand to lose horse and +harness equally with you."</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor2">[2]</a><div class=note> There is here some omission in the manuscript.</div><br> + +<p>The prince listened to these words, and accorded that +the knight spoke wisely and well. He would willingly +have taken counsel of the maiden, but first, as surely +he knew, he must joust with this knight. He gathered +the reins in his glove, and choosing a lance with an +ashen staff, opposed himself to his adversary. The +combatants met together so fiercely that the lance +pierced the steel of the buckler; yet neither lost stirrup +by the shock. When the prince saw this he smote the +knight so shrewdly that he would have fallen from the +saddle, had he not clung to the neck of his destrier. +Of his courtesy the prince passed on, and refrained his +hand until his enemy had recovered his seat. On his +return he found the knight full ready to continue his +devoir. Each of the champions plucked forth his sword, +and sheltered him beneath his shield. They struck +such mighty blows that the bucklers were hewn in pieces, +but in spite of all they remained firm in the saddle. +The maiden was aghast whilst she watched the melée. +She had great fear for her friend, lest mischief should +befall him, and she cried loudly to the knight that, for +grace, he should give over this combat, and go his way. +Very courteous was the knight, and meetly schooled +in what was due to maidens. He saluted the damsel, +and, together with his companion, rode straightway +from the ford. The prince watched them pass for +a little, then without further tarrying he went swiftly +to the maiden, where, all fearful and trembling, she +knelt beneath the thorn. The lady stood upon her feet +as her lover drew near. She climbed behind him on +the saddle, for well she knew that their pains were +done. They fared so fast that when it was yet scarce +day they came again to the palace. The King saw them +approach, and rejoiced greatly at his son's prowess; +but at this he marvelled much, that he should return +with the daughter of the Queen.</p> + +<p>The self-same day of this homecoming—as I have +heard tell—the King had summoned to Court his barons +and vassals because of a certain quarrel betwixt two of +his lords. This quarrel being accorded between them, +and come to a fair end, the King related to that blithe +company the story of this adventure. He told again +that which you know, of how the prince defended the +Ford, of the finding of the maiden beneath the thorn, +of the mighty joust, and of that white horse which was +taken from the adversary.</p> + +<p>The prince both then and thereafter caused the horse +to be entreated with the greatest care. He received the +maiden to wife, and cherished her right tenderly. She, +and the steed on which she would always ride, were his +richest possessions. The destrier lived many years in +much honour, but on a day when his master was taking +the harness from his head, he fell and died forthwith.</p> + +<p>Of the story which has been set before you the Bretons +wrought a Lay. They did not call the song the Lay of +the Ford, although the adventure took place at a river; +neither have they named it The Lay of the Two Children. +For good or ill the rhyme is known as the Lay of the +Thorn. It begins well and endeth better, for these +kisses find their fruition in marriage.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="XV"></a><h2>XV</h2> + +<p>THE LAY OF GRAELENT</p> +<br> + +<p>Now will I tell you the adventure of Graelent, even as +it was told to me, for the Lay is sweet to hear, and the +tune thereof lovely to bear in mind.</p> + +<p>Graelent was born in Brittany of a gentle and noble +house, very comely of person and very frank of heart. +The King who held Brittany in that day, made mortal +war upon his neighbours, and commanded his vassals +to take arms in his quarrel. Amongst these came +Graelent, whom the King welcomed gladly, and since +he was a wise and hardy knight greatly was he honoured +and cherished by the Court. So Graelent strove +valiantly at tourney and at joust, and pained himself +mightily to do the enemy all the mischief that he was +able. The Queen heard tell the prowess of her knight, +and loved him in her heart for reason of his feats of +arms and of the good men spoke of him. So she called +her chamberlain apart, and said, +"Tell me truly, hast thou not often heard speak of +that fair knight, Sir Graelent, whose praise is in all +men's mouths?"</p> + +<p>"Lady," answered the chamberlain, "I know him +for a courteous gentleman, well spoken of by all."</p> + +<p>"I would he were my friend," replied the lady, "for +I am in much unrest because of him. Go thou, and +bid him come to me, so he would be worthy of my love." +"Passing gracious and rich is your gift, lady, and +doubtless he will receive it with marvellous joy. Why, +from here to Troy there is no priest even, however holy, +who in looking on your face would not lose Heaven in +your eyes."</p> + +<p>Thereupon the chamberlain took leave of the Queen, +and seeking Graelent within his lodging saluted him +courteously, and gave him the message, praying him to +come without delay to the palace.</p> + +<p>"Go before, fair friend," answered the knight, "for +I will follow you at once."</p> + +<p>So when the chamberlain was gone Graelent caused +his grey horse to be saddled, and mounting thereon, rode +to the castle, attended by his squire. He descended +without the hall, and passing before the King entered +within the Queen's chamber. When the lady saw him +she embraced him closely, and cherished and honoured +him sweetly. Then she made the knight to be seated +on a fair carpet, and to his face praised him for his +exceeding comeliness. But he answered her very +simply and courteously, saying nothing but what was +seemly to be said. Then the Queen kept silence for a +great while, considering whether she should require him +to love her for the love of love; but at the last, made +bold by passion, she asked if his heart was set on any +maid or dame.</p> + +<p>"Lady," said he, "I love no woman, for love is a +serious business, not a jest. Out of five hundred who +speak glibly of love, not one can spell the first letter +of his name. With such it is idleness, or fulness of bread, +or fancy, masking in the guise of love. Love requires of +his servants chastity in thought, in word and in deed. +If one of two lovers is loyal, and the other jealous and +false, how may their friendship last, for Love is slain! +But sweetly and discreetly love passes from person to +person, from heart to heart, or it is nothing worth. +For what the lover would, that would the beloved; +what she would ask of him that should he go before to +grant. Without accord such as this, love is but a bond +and a constraint. For above all things Love means +sweetness, and truth, and measure; yea, loyalty to the +loved one and to your word. And because of this I dare +not meddle with so high a matter."</p> + +<p>The Queen heard Graelent gladly, finding him so +tripping of tongue, and since his words were wise and +courteous, at the end she discovered to him her heart.</p> + +<p>"Friend, Sir Graelent, though I am a wife, yet have +I never loved my lord. But I love you very dearly, +and what I have asked of you will you not go before +to grant?"</p> + +<p>"Lady," said he, "give me pity and forgiveness, +but this may not be. I am the vassal of the King, and +on my knees have pledged him loyalty and faith, and +sworn to defend his life and honour. Never shall he +have shame because of me."</p> + +<p>With these words Sir Graelent took his leave of the +Queen, and went his way.</p> + +<p>Seeing him go in this fashion the Queen commenced +to sigh. She was grieved in her heart, and knew not +what to do. But whatever chanced she would not +renounce her passion, so often she required his love by +means of soft messages and costly gifts, but he refused +them all. Then the Queen turned from love to hate, +and the greatness of her passion became the measure +of her wrath, for very evilly she spoke of Graelent to the +King. So long as the war endured Graelent remained +in that realm. He spent all that he had upon his company, +for the King grudged wages to his men. The +Queen persuaded the King to this, counselling him that +by withholding the pay of the sergeants, Graelent +might in no wise flee the country, nor take service +with another lord. So at the end Graelent was wonderfully +downcast, nor was it strange that he was sad, +for there remained nothing which he might pledge, +but one poor steed, and when this was gone, no horse +had he to carry him from the country.</p> + +<p>It was now the month of May, when the hours are +long and warm. The burgess, with whom Graelent +lodged, had risen early in the morning, and with his +wife had gone to eat with neighbours in the town. +No one was in the house except Graelent, no squire, +nor archer, nor servant, save only the daughter of his +host, a very courteous maid. When the hour for dinner +was come she prayed the knight that they might sit +at board together. But he had no heart for mirth, and +seeking out his squire bade him bridle and saddle his +horse, for he had no care to eat.</p> + +<p>"I have no saddle," replied the squire.</p> + +<p>"Friend," said the demoiselle, "I will lend you +bridle and saddle as well."</p> + +<p>So when the harness was done upon him, Graelent +mounted his horse, and went his way through the town, +clad in a cloak of sorry fur, which he had worn overlong +already. The townsfolk in the street turned and stared +upon him, making a jest of his poverty, but of their +jibes he took no heed, for such act but after their kind, +and seldom show kindliness or courtesy.</p> + +<p>Now without the town there spread a great forest, +thick with trees, and through the forest ran a river. +Towards this forest Graelent rode, deep in heavy thought, +and very dolent. Having ridden for a little space +beneath the trees, he spied within a leafy thicket a fair +white hart, whiter even than snow on winter branches. +The hart fled before him, and Graelent followed so +closely in her track that man and deer presently came +together to a grassy lawn, in the midst of which sprang +a fountain of clear, sweet water. Now in this fountain +a demoiselle disported herself for her delight. Her +raiment was set on a bush near by, and her two maidens +stood on the bank busied in their lady's service. Graelent +forgot the chase at so sweet a sight, since never in his +life had he seen so lovely a dame. For the lady was +slender in shape and white, very gracious and dainty +of colour, with laughing eyes and an open brow, certainly +the most beautiful thing in all the world. Graelent +dared not draw nigh the fountain for fear of troubling +the dame, so he came softly to the bush to set hands +upon her raiment. The two maidens marked his +approach, and at their fright the lady turned, and calling +him by name, cried with great anger,</p> + +<p>"Graelent, put my raiment down, for it will profit +you little even if you carry it away, and leave me naked +in this wood. But if you are indeed too greedy of gain +to remember your knighthood, at least return me my +shift, and content yourself with my mantle, since it +will bring you money, as it is very good."</p> + +<p>"I am not a merchant's son," answered Graelent +merrily, "nor am I a huckster to sell mantles in a booth. +If your cloak were worth the spoil of three castles I +would not now carry it from the bush. Come forth +from your bathing, fair friend, and clothe yourself in +your vesture, for you have to say a certain word to +me."</p> + +<p>"I will not trust myself to your hand, for you might +seize upon me," answered the lady, "and I tell you +frankly that I put no faith in your word, nor have had +any dealings with your school."</p> + +<p>Then Graelent answered still more merrily, +"Lady, needs must I suffer your wrath. But at +least I will guard your raiment till you come forth +from the well and, fairest, very dainty is your body in +my eyes."</p> + +<p>When the lady knew that Graelent would not depart, +nor render again her raiment, then she demanded surety +that he would do her no hurt. This thing was accorded +between them, so she came forth from the fountain, +and did her vesture upon her. Then Graelent took her +gently by the left hand, and prayed and required of her +that she would grant him love for love. But the lady +answered, +"I marvel greatly that you should dare to speak to +me in this fashion, for I have little reason to think you +discreet. You are bold, sir knight, and overbold, to +seek to ally yourself with a woman of my lineage."</p> + +<p>Sir Graelent was not abashed by the dame's proud +spirit, but wooed and prayed her gently and sweetly, +promising that if she granted him her love he would +serve her in all loyalty, and never depart therefrom all +the days of his life. The demoiselle hearkened to the +words of Graelent, and saw plainly that he was a valiant +knight, courteous and wise. She thought within herself +that should she send him from her, never might she +find again so sure a friend. Since, then, she knew him +worthy of her love, she kissed him softly, and spoke to +him in this manner, +"Graelent, I will love you none the less truly, though +we have not met until this day. But one thing is needful +that our love may endure. Never must you speak a +word by which this hidden thing may become known. +I will furnish you with deniers in your purse, with cloth +of silk, with silver and with gold. Night and day will +I stay with you, and great shall be the love between us +twain. You shall see me riding at your side; you may +talk and laugh with me at your pleasure, but I must +never be seen of your comrades, nor must they know +aught concerning your bride. Graelent, you are loyal, +brave, and courteous, and comely enough to the view. +For you I spread my snare at the fountain; for you +shall I suffer heavy pains, as well I knew before I set +forth on this adventure. Now must I trust to your +discretion, for if you speak vainly and boastfully of +this thing then am I undone. Remain now for a year +in this country, which shall be for you a home that your +lady loves well. But noon is past, and it is time for you +to go. Farewell, and a messenger shortly shall tell you +that which I would have you do."</p> + +<p>Graelent took leave of the lady, and she sweetly +clasped and kissed him farewell. He returned to his +lodging, dismounted from his steed, and entering within +a chamber, leaned from the casement, considering this +strange adventure. Looking towards the forest he saw +a varlet issue therefrom riding upon a palfrey. He drew +rein before Graelent's door, and taking his feet from the +stirrup, saluted the knight. So Graelent inquired +from whence he rode, and of his name and business.</p> + +<p>"Sir," answered he, "I am the messenger of your +lady. She sends you this destrier by my hand, and would +have me enter in your service, to pay your servitors their +wages and to take charge of your lodging."</p> + +<p>When Graelent heard this message he thought it +both good and fair. He kissed the varlet upon the +cheek, and accepting his gift, caused the destrier—which +was the noblest, the swiftest and the most speedy +under the sun—to be led to the stable. Then the varlet +carried his baggage to his master's chamber, and took +therefrom a large cushion and a rich coverlet which he +spread upon the couch. After this he drew thereout a +purse containing much gold and silver, and stout cloth +fitting for the knight's apparel. Then he sent for the +host, and paying him what was owing, called upon him +to witness that he was recompensed most largely for +the lodging. He bade him also to seek out such knights +as should pass through the town to refresh and solace +themselves in the company of his lord. The host was +a worthy man. He made ready a plenteous dinner, +and inquired through the town for such poor knights as +were in misease by reason of prison or of war. These he +brought to the hostelry of Sir Graelent, and comforted +them with instruments of music, and with all manner +of mirth. Amongst them sat Graelent at meat, gay and +debonair, and richly apparelled. Moreover, to these +poor knights and the harpers Graelent gave goodly +gifts, so that there was not a citizen in all the town +who did not hold him in great worship, and regard him +as his lord.</p> + +<p>From this moment Graelent lived greatly at his ease, +for not a cloud was in his sky. His lady came at will +and pleasure; all day long they laughed and played +together, and at night she lay softly at his side. What +truer happiness might he know than this? Often, +besides, he rode to such tournaments of the land as he +was able, and all men esteemed him for a stout and worthy +knight. Very pleasant were his days, and his love, and +if such things might last for ever he had nothing else +to ask of life.</p> + +<p>When a full year had passed by, the season drew to +the Feast of Pentecost. Now it was the custom of the +King to summon at that tide his barons and all who +held their fiefs of him to his Court for a rich banquet. +Amongst these lords was bidden Sir Graelent. After +men had eaten and drunk the whole day, and all were +merry, the King commanded the Queen to put off her +royal robes, and to stand forth upon the dais. Then he +boasted before the company,</p> + +<p>"Lord barons, how seems it to you? Beneath the +sky is there a lovelier Queen than mine, be she maid, +lady or demoiselle?"</p> + +<p>So all the lords made haste to praise the Queen, and +to cry and affirm that in all the world was neither maid +nor wife so dainty, fresh and fair. Not a single voice +but bragged of her beauty, save only that of Graelent. +He smiled at their folly, for his heart remembered his +friend, and he held in pity all those who so greatly +rejoiced in the Queen. So he sat with covered head, +and with face bent smiling to the board. The Queen +marked his discourtesy, and drew thereto the notice +of the King.</p> + +<p>"Sire, do you observe this dishonour! Not one of +these mighty lords but has praised the beauty of your +wife, save Graelent only, who makes a mock of her. +Always has he held me in envy and despite."</p> + +<p>The King commanded Graelent to his throne, and +in the hearing of all bade the knight to tell, on his faith +as vassal to his liege, for what reason he had hid his +face and laughed.</p> + +<p>"Sire," answered Graelent to the King, "Sire, +hearken to my words. In all the world no man of your +lineage does so shameful a deed as this. You make +your wife a show upon a stage. You force your lords +to praise her just with lies, saying that the sun does +not shine upon her peer. One man will tell the truth to +your face, and say that very easily can be found a fairer +dame than she."</p> + +<p>Right heavy was the King when he heard these words. +He conjured Graelent to tell him straightly if he knew +a daintier dame.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Sire, and thirty times more gracious than the +Queen."</p> + +<p>The Queen was marvellously wrathful to hear this +thing, and prayed her husband of his grace to compel +the knight to bring that woman to the Court of whose +beauty he made so proud a boast.</p> + +<p>"Set us side by side, and let the choice be made +between us. Should she prove the fairer let him go in +peace; but if not, let justice be done on him for his +calumny and malice."</p> + +<p>So the King bade his guards to lay hands on Graelent, +swearing that between them never should be love nor +peace, nor should the knight issue forth from prison, +until he had brought before him her whose beauty he +had praised so much.</p> + +<p>Graelent was held a captive. He repented him of +his hasty words, and begged the King to grant him +respite. He feared to have lost his friend, and sweated +grievously with rage and mortification. But though +many of the King's house pitied him in his evil case, +the long days brought him no relief, until a full year +went by, and once again the King made a great banquet +to his barons and his lieges. Then was Graelent brought +to hall, and put to liberty on such terms that he would +return bringing with him her whose loveliness he had +praised before the King. Should she prove so desirable +and dear, as his boast, then all would be well, for he +had naught to fear. But if he returned without his +lady, then he must go to judgment, and his only hope +would be in the mercy of the King.</p> + +<p>Graelent mounted his good horse, and parted from +the Court sad and wrathful. He sought his lodging, +and inquired for his servant, but might not find him. +He called upon his friend, but the lady did not heed +his voice. Then Graelent gave way to despair, and +preferred death to life. He shut himself within his +chamber, crying upon his dear one for grace and mercy, +but from her he got neither speech nor comfort. So +seeing that his love had withdrawn herself from him +by reason of his grievous fault, he took no rest by night +or day, and held his life in utter despite. For a full year +he lived in this piteous case, so that it was marvellous +to those about him that he might endure his life.</p> + +<p>On the day appointed the sureties brought Graelent +where the King was set in hall with his lords. Then the +King inquired of Graelent where was now his friend.</p> + +<p>"Sire," answered the knight, "she is not here, for +in no wise might I find her. Now do with me according +to your will."</p> + +<p>"Sir Graelent," said the King, "very foully have +you spoken. You have slandered the Queen, and given +all my lords the lie. When you go from my hands +never will you do more mischief with your tongue."</p> + +<p>Then the King spoke with a high voice to his barons.</p> + +<p>"Lords, I pray and command you to give judgment +in this matter. You heard the blame that Graelent set +upon me before all my Court. You know the deep +dishonour that he fastened on the Queen. How may +such a disloyal vassal deal honestly with his lord, for +as the proverb tells, 'Hope not for friendship from the +man who beats your dog!'"</p> + +<p>The lords of the King's household went out from before +him, and gathered themselves together to consider +their judgment. They kept silence for a great space, +for it was grievous to them to deal harshly with so +valiant a knight. Whilst they thus refrained from words +a certain page hastened unto them, and prayed them not +to press the matter, for (said he) "even now two young +maidens, the freshest maids in all the realm, seek the +Court. Perchance they bring succour to the good +knight, and, so it be the will of God, may deliver him +from peril." So the lords waited right gladly, and +presently they saw two damsels come riding to the +palace. Very young were these maidens, very slender +and gracious, and daintily cloaked in two fair mantles. +So when the pages had hastened to hold their stirrup +and bridle, the maidens dismounted from their palfreys +and entering within the hall came straight before the +King.</p> + +<p>"Sire," said one of the two damsels, "hearken now +to me. My lady commands us to pray you to put back +this cause for a while, nor to deliver judgment therein, +since she comes to plead with you for the deliverance +of this knight."</p> + +<p>When the Queen heard this message she was filled +with shame, and made speed to get her from the hall +Hardly had she gone than there entered two other +damsels, whiter and more sweetly flushed even than their +fellows. These bade the King to wait for a little, +since their mistress was now at hand. So all men stared +upon them, and praised their great beauty, saying that +if the maid was so fair, what then must be the loveliness +of the dame. When, therefore, the demoiselle came +in her turn, the King's household stood upon their feet +to give her greeting. Never did woman show so queenly +to men's sight as did this lady riding to the hall. Passing +sweet she was to see, passing simple and gracious of +manner, with softer eyes and a daintier face than girl +of mother born. The whole Court marvelled at her +beauty, for no spot or blemish might be found in her +body. She was richly dressed in a kirtle of vermeil silk, +broidered with gold, and her mantle was worth the spoil +of a king's castle. Her palfrey was of good race, and +speedy; the harness and trappings upon him were +worth a thousand livres in minted coin. All men pressed +about her, praising her face and person, her simplicity +and queenlihead. She came at slow pace before the +King, and dismounting from the palfrey, spoke very +courteously in this fashion.</p> + +<p>"Sire," said she, "hearken to me, and you, lord +barons, give heed to my pleading. You know the words +Graelent spake to the King, in the ears of men, when +the Queen made herself a show before the lords, saying +that often had he seen a fairer lady. Very hasty and +foolish was his tongue, since he provoked the King to +anger. But at least he told the truth when he said that +there is no dame so comely but that very easily may be +found one more sweet than she. Look now boldly upon +my face, and judge you rightly in this quarrel between +the Queen and me. So shall Sir Graelent be acquitted +of this blame."</p> + +<p>Then gazing upon her, all the King's household, lord +and lackey, prince and page, cried with one voice that +her favour was greater than that of the Queen. The +King himself gave judgment with his barons that this +thing was so; therefore Sir Graelent was acquitted of +his blame, and declared a free man.</p> + +<p>When judgment was given the lady took her leave of +the King, and attended by her four damsels departed +straightway from the hall upon her palfrey. Sir Graelent +caused his white horse to be saddled, and mounting, +followed hotly after her through the town. Day after +day he rode in her track, pleading for pity and pardon, +but she gave him neither good words nor bad in answer. +So far they fared that at last they came to the forest, +and taking their way through a deep wood rode to the +bank of a fair, clear stream. The lady set her palfrey +to the river, but when she saw that Graelent also would +enter therein she cried to him,</p> + +<p>"Stay, Graelent, the stream is deep, and it is death +for you to follow."</p> + +<p>Graelent took no heed to her words, but forced his +horse to enter the river, so that speedily the waters +closed above his head. Then the lady seized his bridle, +and with extreme toil brought horse and rider back +again to land.</p> + +<p>"Graelent," said she, "you may not pass this river, +however mightily you pain yourself, therefore must you +remain alone on this bank."</p> + +<p>Again the lady set her palfrey to the river, but Graelent +could not suffer to see her go upon her way alone. +Again he forced his horse to enter the water; but the +current was very swift and the stream was very deep, +so that presently Graelent was torn from his saddle, +and being borne away by the stream came very nigh to +drown. When the four maidens saw his piteous plight +they cried aloud to their lady, and said,</p> + +<p>"Lady, for the love of God, take pity on your poor +friend. See, how he drowns in this evil case. Alas, +cursed be the day you spake soft words in his ear, and +gave him the grace of your love. Lady, look how the +current hurries him to his death. How may your heart +suffer him to drown whom you have held so close! +Aid him, nor have the sin on your soul that you endured +to let the man who loved you die without your help."</p> + +<p>When the lady heard the complaint of her maidens, +no longer could she hide the pity she felt in her heart. +In all haste she turned her palfrey to the river, and +entering the stream clutched her lover by the belt. +Thus they won together to the bank. There she stripped +the drowned man of his raiment, and wrapping him +fast in her own dry mantle cherished him so meetly +that presently he came again to life. So she brought +him safely into her own land, and none has met Sir +Graelent since that day.</p> + +<p>But the Breton folk still hold firmly that Graelent +yet liveth with his friend. His destrier, when he escaped +him from the perilous river, grieved greatly for his +master's loss. He sought again the mighty forest, yet +never was at rest by night or day. No peace might he +find, but ever pawed he with his hoofs upon the ground, +and neighed so loudly that the noise went through all +the country round about. Many a man coveted so +noble a steed, and sought to put bit and bridle in his +mouth, yet never might one set hands upon him, for +he would not suffer another master. So each year in +its season the forest was filled with the cry and the trouble +of this noble horse which might not find its lord.</p> + +<p>This adventure of the good steed and of the stout +knight, who went to the land of faery with his love, was +noised abroad throughout all Brittany, and the Bretons +made a Lay thereof which was sung in the ears of many +people, and was called a Lay of the Death of Sir +Graelent.</p> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="XVI"></a><h2>XVI</h2> + +<p>A STORY OF BEYOND THE SEA</p> +<br> + +<p>In times gone by there lived a Count of Ponthieu, who +loved chivalry and the pleasures of the world beyond +measure, and moreover was a stout knight and a gallant +gentleman. In the self-same day there lived a Count +of St. Pol, who was lord of much land, and a right worthy +man. One grief he had, that there was no heir of his +body; but a sister was his, a prudent woman and a +passing good gentlewoman, who was dame of Dommare +in Ponthieu. This lady had a son, Thibault by name, +who was heir to this County of St. Pol, but he was a +poor man so long as his uncle lived. He was a prudent +knight, valiant and skilled with the spear, noble and +fair. Greatly was he loved and honoured of all honest +people, for he was of high race and gentle birth.</p> + +<p>The Count of Ponthieu, of whom the tale hath spoken, +had to wife a very worthy lady. He and his dame had +but one child, a daughter, very good and gracious, who +increased with her days in favour and in virtues; and +the maid was of some sixteen years. The third year after +her birth her mother died, whereof she was sorely +troubled and right heavy. The Count, her father, took +to himself another wife with no long tarrying, a dame +of gentle race and breeding. Of this lady he got him +quickly a son; very near was the boy to his father's +heart. The lad grew with his years in stature and in +valour, and gave promise to increase in all good qualities.</p> + +<p>The Count of Ponthieu marked my lord Thibault of +Dommare. He summoned the knight to his castle, +and made him of his house for guerdon. When Sir +Thibault was of his fellowship he rejoiced greatly, for +the Count prospered in goods and in praise by reason +of his servant's deeds. As they came from a tournament +on a day, the Count and my lord Thibault together, +the Count required of his companion and said,</p> + +<p>"Thibault, by the aid of God tell me truly which +jewel of my crown shines the fairest in your eyes!"</p> + +<p>"Sir," replied Messire Thibault, "I am only a beggar, +but so help me God, of all the jewels in your crown I +love and covet none, save only my demoiselle, your +daughter."</p> + +<p>When he heard this thing the Count had great content. +He laughed in his heart and said,</p> + +<p>"Thibault, I will grant her to the beggar, if it be to +her mind."</p> + +<p>"Sir," answered he, "thanks and gramercy. May +God make it up to you."</p> + +<p>Then went the Count to his daughter, and said,</p> + +<p>"Fair daughter, I have promised you in marriage, +so it go not against your heart."</p> + +<p>"Sir," inquired the maid, "to whom?"</p> + +<p>"In the name of God, to a loyal man, and a true +man, of whom much is hoped; to a knight of my own +household, Thibault of Dommare."</p> + +<p>"Dear sir," answered the maiden sweetly, "if your +county were a kingdom, and I were the king's only +child, I would choose him as my husband, and gladly +give him all that I had."</p> + +<p>"Daughter," said the Count, "blessed be your pretty +person, and the hour that you were born."</p> + +<p>Thus was this marriage made. The Count of Ponthieu +and the Count of St. Pol were at the feast, and many +another honourable man besides. Great was the joy +in which they met, fair was the worship, and marvellous +the delight. The bride and groom lived together in all +happiness for five years. This was their only sorrow, +that it pleased not our Lord Jesus Christ that they +should have an heir to their flesh.</p> + +<p>On a night Sir Thibault lay in his bed. He considered +within himself and said,</p> + +<p>"Lord, whence cometh it that I love this dame so +fondly, and she me, yet we may have no heir of our +bodies to serve God and to do a little good in the world?"</p> + +<p>Then he remembered my lord St. James, the Apostle +of Spain, who gives to the fervent supplicant that which +rightly he desires. Earnestly, to his own heart, he +promised that he would walk a pilgrim in his way. +His wife lay sleeping at his side, but when she came from +out her sleep, he took her softly in his arms, and required +of her that she would bestow on him a gift.</p> + +<p>"Sir," said the lady, "what gift would you +have?"</p> + +<p>"Wife," he made answer, "that you shall know when +it is mine."</p> + +<p>"Husband," said she, "if it be mine to grant, I will +give it you, whatever the price."</p> + +<p>"Wife," he said, "I pray you to grant me leave to +seek my lord St. James the Apostle, that he may intercede +with our Lord Jesus Christ to bestow on us an heir +of our flesh, whereby God may be served in this world +and Holy Church glorified."</p> + +<p>"Sir," cried the lady, "sweet and dear it is that you +should crave such bounty, and I grant the permission +you desire right willingly."</p> + +<p>Deep and long was the tenderness that fell betwixt +these twain. Thus passed a day, and another day, and +yet a third. On this third day it chanced that they lay +together in their bed, and it was night. Then said the +dame,</p> + +<p>"Husband, I pray and require of you a gift."</p> + +<p>"Wife," he replied, "ask, and I will give it you, if +by any means I can."</p> + +<p>"Husband," she said, "I require leave to come with +you on this errand and journey."</p> + +<p>When Messire Thibault heard this thing he was right +sorrowful, and said,</p> + +<p>"Wife, grievous would be the journey to your body, +for the way is very long, and the land right strange and +perilous."</p> + +<p>Said she,</p> + +<p>"Husband, be not in doubt because of me. You +shall be more hindered of your squire than of your wife."</p> + +<p>"Dame," said he, "as God wills and as you wish."</p> + +<p>The days went, and these tidings were so noised +abroad that the Count of Ponthieu heard thereof. He +commanded my lord Sir Thibault to his house, and said,</p> + +<p>"Thibault, you are a vowed pilgrim, as I hear, and +my daughter too!"</p> + +<p>"Sir," answered he, "that is verily and truly so."</p> + +<p>"Thibault," replied the Count, "as to yourself what +pleases you is to my mind also, but concerning my +daughter that is another matter."</p> + +<p>"Sir," made answer Sir Thibault, "go she must, and +I cannot deny her."</p> + +<p>"Since this is so," said the Count, "part when you +will. Make ready for the road your steeds, your palfreys, +and the pack horses, and I will give you riches and gear +enough for the journey."</p> + +<p>"Sir," said Messire Thibault, "thanks and gramercy."</p> + +<p>Thus these pilgrims arrayed them, and sought that +shrine with marvellous joy. They fared so speedily +upon the way, that at length they came near to my +lord St. James, by less than two days faring. That +night they drew to a goodly town. After they had eaten +in the hostel, Sir Thibault called for the host and inquired +of him the road for the morrow, how it ran, and whether +it were smooth.</p> + +<p>"Fair sir," replied the innkeeper to the knight, "at +the gate of this town you will find a little wood. Beyond +the wood a strong smooth road runs for the whole day's +journey."</p> + +<p>Hearing this they asked no more questions, but the +beds being laid down, they went to their rest. The +morrow broke full sweetly. The pilgrims rose lightly +from their beds as soon as it was day, and made much +stir and merriment. Sir Thibault rose also, since he +might not sleep, but his head was heavy. He therefore +called his chamberlain, and said,</p> + +<p>"Rise quickly, and bid the company to pack the +horses and go their way. Thou shalt remain with me, +and make ready our harness, for I am a little heavy +and disquieted."</p> + +<p>The chamberlain made known to the sergeants the +pleasure of their lord, so that presently they took the +road. In no great while Messire Thibault and his dame +got them from the bed, and arraying their persons, +followed after their household. The chamberlain folded +the bed linen, and it was yet but dawn, though warm +and fair. The three went forth through the gate of +the city, those three together, with no other companion +save God alone, and drew near to the forest. When they +came close they found two roads, the one good, the +other ill; so that Sir Thibault said to his chamberlain,</p> + +<p>"Put spurs to your horse, and ride swiftly after our +people. Bid them await our coming, for foul it is for +lady and knight to pass through this wood with so +little company."</p> + +<p>The servitor went speedily, and Messire Thibault +entered the forest. He drew rein beside the two roads, +for he knew not which to follow.</p> + +<p>"Wife," he said, "which way is ours?"</p> + +<p>"Please God, the good," she answered.</p> + +<p>Now in this wood were robbers, who spoiled the fair +way, and made wide and smooth the false, so that +pilgrims should mistake and wander from the path. +Messire Thibault lighted from his horse. He looked +from one to the other, and finding the wrong way +broader and more smooth than the true, he cried,</p> + +<p>"Wife, come now; in the name of God, this."</p> + +<p>They had proceeded along this road for some quarter +of a mile when the path grew strict and narrow, and +boughs made dark the way.</p> + +<p>"Wife," said the knight, "I fear that we fare but ill."</p> + +<p>When he had thus spoken he looked before him, +and marked four armed thieves, seated on four strong +horses, and each bore lance in hand. Thereupon he +glanced behind him, and, lo, four other robbers, armed +and set in ambush, so he said,</p> + +<p>"Dame, be not affrighted of aught that you may see +from now."</p> + +<p>Right courteously Sir Thibault saluted the robbers in +his path, but they gave no answer to his greeting. +Afterwards he sought of them what was in their mind, +and one replied that he should know anon. The thief, +who had thus spoken, drew towards my lord Thibault, +with outstretched sword, thinking to smite him in the +middle. Messire Thibault saw the blow about to fall, +and it was no marvel if he feared greatly. He sprang +forward nimbly, as best he might, so that the glaive +smote the air. Then as the robber staggered by, Sir +Thibault seized him fiercely, and wrested the sword from +his hand. The knight advanced stoutly against those +three from whom the thief had come. He struck the +foremost amidst the bowels, so that he perished miserably. +Then he turned and went again to that one who had +first come against him with the sword, and slew him also. +Now it was decreed of God that after the knight had +slain three of this company of robbers, that the five +who were left, encompassed him round about, and +killed his palfrey. Sir Thibault tumbled flat upon his +back, although he was not wounded to his hurt. Since +he had neither sword nor other harness he could do no +more. The thieves therefore stripped him to his very +shirt, his boots and hosen, and binding him hand and foot +with a baldrick, cast him into a thorn bush, right thick +and sharp. When they had done this they hastened to +the lady. From her they took her palfrey and her vesture, +even to the shift. Passing fair was the lady; she +wept full piteously, and never was dame more sorrowful +than she. Now one of these bold robbers stared upon +the lady, and saw that she was very fair. He spoke to +his companions in this fashion,</p> + +<p>"Comrades, I have lost my brother in this broil. I +will take this woman for his blood money."</p> + +<p>But the others made answer,</p> + +<p>"I, too, have lost my kin. I claim as much as you, +and my right is good as yours."</p> + +<p>So said a third, and a fourth, and a fifth. Then spake +yet another.</p> + +<p>"In keeping of the lady will be found neither peace +nor profit. Rather let us lead her from here within the +forest, there do our pleasure upon her, and then put her +again upon the path, so that she may go her way."</p> + +<p>Thus they did as they had devised together, and left +her on the road.</p> + +<p>Right sick at heart was Messire Thibault when he saw +her so entreated, but nothing could he do. He bore no +malice against his wife by reason of that which had +befallen, for well he knew that it, was by force, and not +according to her will. When he saw her again, weeping +bitterly and altogether shamed, he called to her, and +said,</p> + +<p>"Wife, for God's love unloose me from these bonds, and +deliver me from the torment that I suffer, for these +thorns are sharper than I can endure."</p> + +<p>The lady hastened to the place where Sir Thibault +lay, and marked a sword flung behind the bush, belonging +to one of those felons that were slain. She took +the glaive, and went towards her lord, filled full of +wrath and evil thoughts because of what had chanced +to her. She feared greatly lest her husband should +bear malice for that which he had seen, reproaching +her upon a day, and taunting her for what was past. +She said,</p> + +<p>"Sir, you are out of your pain already."</p> + +<p>She raised the sword, and came towards her husband, +thinking to strike him midmost the body. When he +marked the falling glaive he deemed that his day had +come, for he was a naked man, clad in nought but his +shirt and hosen. He trembled so sorely that his bonds +were loosed, and the lady struck so feebly that she +wounded him but little, severing that baldrick with +which his hands were made fast. Thereat the knight +brake the cords about his legs, and leaping upon his +feet, cried, +"Dame, by the grace of God it is not to-day that you +shall slay me with the sword."</p> + +<p>Then she made answer, +"Truly, sir, the sorer grief is mine."</p> + +<p>Sir Thibault took the sword, and set it again in the +sheath, afterwards he put his hand upon the lady's +shoulder, and brought her back by the path they had +fared. At the fringe of the woodland he found a large +part of his fellowship, who were come to meet him. When +these saw their lord and lady so spoiled and disarrayed +they inquired of them, +"Sir, who hath put you in this case?"</p> + +<p>He set them by, saying that they had fallen amongst +felons who had done them much mischief.</p> + +<p>Mightily the sergeants lamented; but presently they +fetched raiment from the packs, and arrayed them, for +enough they had and to spare. So they climbed into +the saddle, and continued their journey.</p> + +<p>They rode that day, nor for aught that had chanced +did Messire Thibault show sourer countenance to the +lady. At nightfall they came to a goodly town, and +there took shelter in an inn. Messire Thibault sought +of his host if there was any convent of nuns in those +parts where a lady might repose her. The host made +answer to him,</p> + +<p>"Sir, you are served to your wish. Just beyond the walls +is a right fair religious house, with many holy women."</p> + +<p>On the morrow Messire Thibault went to this house, and +heard Mass. Afterwards he spoke to the Abbess and her +chapter, praying that he might leave his lady in their +charge, until his return; and this they accorded very +willingly. Messire Thibault bestowed the lady in this +convent, with certain of his house to do her service, +and went his way to bring his pilgrimage to a fair end. +When he had knelt before the shrine, and honoured the +Saint, he came again to the convent and the lady. He +gave freely of his wealth to the house, and taking to +himself his wife, returned with her to their own land, in the +same joy and honour as he had brought her forth, save +only that they lay not together.</p> + +<p>Great was the gladness of the folk of that realm when +Sir Thibault returned to his home. The Count of +Ponthieu, the father of his wife was there, and there, too, +was his uncle the Count of St. Pol. Many worthy and +valiant gentlemen came for his welcome, and a fair company +of dames and maidens likewise honoured the lady. +That day the Count of Ponthieu sat at meat with my +lord Thibault, and ate from the same dish, the two +together. Then it happed that the Count spake to +him,</p> + +<p>"Thibault, fair son, he who journeys far hears many +a strange matter and sees many strange sights, which +are hidden from those who sit over the fire. Tell me +therefore, of your favour, something of all you have seen +and heard since you went from amongst us."</p> + +<p>Messire Thibault answered shortly that he knew no tale +worth the telling. The Count would take no denial, +but plagued him so sorely, begging him of his courtesy +to tell over some adventure, that at the last he was +overborne.</p> + +<p>"Sir, I will narrate a story, since talk I must; but +at least let it be in your private ear, if you please, and +not for the mirth of all."</p> + +<p>The Count replied that his pleasure was the same. +After meat, when men had eaten their fill, the Count +rose in his chair, and taking my lord Thibault by the +hand, entreated,</p> + +<p>"Tell me now, I pray, that which it pleases you to +tell, for there are few of the household left in hall."</p> + +<p>Then Messire Thibault began to relate that which +chanced to a knight and a dame, even as it has been +rehearsed before you in this tale; only he named not +the persons to whom this lot was appointed. The +Count, who was wise and sober of counsel, inquired +what the knight had done with the lady. Thibault +made answer that the knight had brought the lady +back by the way she went, with the same joy and +worship as he led her forth, save only that they slept +not together.</p> + +<p>"Thibault," said the Count, "your knight walked +another road than I had trod. By my faith in God and +my love for you, I had hanged this dame by her tresses +to a tree. The laces of her gown would suffice if I could +find no other cord."</p> + +<p>"Sir," said Messire Thibault, "you have but my +word. The truth can only be assured if the lady might +bear witness and testify with her own mouth."</p> + +<p>"Thibault," said the Count, "know you the name +of this knight?"</p> + +<p>"Sir," cried Messire Thibault, "I beg you again to +exempt me from naming the knight to whom this +sorrow befell. Know of a truth that his name will +bring no profit."</p> + +<p>"Thibault," said the Count, "it is my pleasure that +his name should not be hid."</p> + +<p>"Sir," answered Thibault, "tell I must, as you will +not acquit me; but I take you to witness that I speak +only under compulsion, since gladly I would have kept +silence, had this been your pleasure, for in the telling +there is neither worship nor honour."</p> + +<p>"Thibault," replied the Count, "without more words +I would know forthwith who was the knight to whom +this adventure chanced. By the faith that you owe +to your God and to me, I conjure you to tell me his +name, since it is in your mind."</p> + +<p>"Sir," replied Messire Thibault, "I will answer by +the faith I owe my God and you, since you lay this +charge upon me. Know well, and be persuaded, that +I am the knight on whom this sorrow lighted. Hold +it for truth that I was sorely troubled and sick of heart. +Be assured that never before have I spoken to any living +man about the business, and moreover that gladly +would I have held my peace, had such been your will."</p> + +<p>When the Count heard this adventure he was sore +astonied, and altogether cast down. He kept silence +for a great space, speaking never a word. At the last +he said, +"Thibault, was it indeed my child who did this +thing?"</p> + +<p>"Sir, it is verily and truly so."</p> + +<p>"Thibault," said the Count, "sweet shall be your +vengeance, since you have given her again to my hand."</p> + +<p>Because of his exceeding wrath the Count sent straightway +for his daughter, and demanded of her if those +things were true of which Messire Thibault had spoken. +She inquired of the accusation, and her father answered, +"That you would have slain him with the sword, +even as he has told me?"</p> + +<p>"Sir, of a surety."</p> + +<p>"And wherefore would you slay your husband?"</p> + +<p>"Sir, for reason that I am yet heavy that he is not +dead."</p> + +<p>When the Count heard the lady speak in this fashion, he +answered her nothing, but suffered in silence until the +guests had departed. After these were gone, the Count +came on a day to Rue-sur-Mer, and Messire Thibault +with him, and the Count's son. With them also went +the lady. Then the Count caused a ship to be got +ready, very stout and speedy, and he made the dame +to enter in the boat. He set also on the ship an untouched +barrel, very high and strong. These three lords climbed +into the nave, with no other company, save those sailors +who should labour at the oar. The Count commanded +the mariners to put the ship to sea, and all marvelled +greatly as to what he purposed, but there was none so +bold as to ask him any questions. When they had rowed +a great way from the land, the Count bade them to +strike the head from out the barrel. He took that dame, +his own child, who was so dainty and so fair, and thrust +her in the tun, whether she would or whether she would +not. This being done he caused the cask to be made +fast again with staves and wood, so that the water +might in no manner enter therein. Afterwards he +dragged the barrel to the edge of the deck, and with +his own hand cast it into the sea, saying,</p> + +<p>"I commend thee to the wind and waves."</p> + +<p>Passing heavy was Messire Thibault at this, and the +lady's brother also, and all who saw. They fell at the +Count's feet, praying him of his grace that she might +be delivered from the barrel. So hot was his wrath +that he would not grant their prayer, for aught that they +might do or say. They therefore left him to his rage, +and turning to the Heavenly Father, besought our +Lord Jesus Christ that of His most sweet pity He would +have mercy on her soul, and give her pardon for her +sins.</p> + +<p>The ship came again to land, leaving the lady in sore +peril and trouble, even as the tale has told you. But +our Lord Jesus Christ, who is Lord and Father of all, +and desireth not the death of a sinner, but rather that +he should turn from his wickedness and live—as each +day He showeth us openly by deed, by example and by +miracle—sent succour to this lady, even as you shall +hear. For a ship from Flanders, laden with merchandise, +marked this barrel drifting at the mercy of winds and +waters, before ever the Count and his companions were +come ashore. One of the merchants said to his comrades,</p> + +<p>"Friends, behold a barrel drifting in our course. +If we may reach it, perchance we may find it to our gain."</p> + +<p>This ship was wont to traffic with the Saracens in +their country, so the sailors rowed towards the barrel, +and partly by cunning and partly by strength, at the +last got it safely upon the deck. The merchants looked +long at the cask. They wondered greatly what it could +be, and wondering, they saw that the head of the barrel +was newly closed. They opened the cask, and found +therein a woman at the point of death, for air had failed +her. Her body was gross, her visage swollen, and the +eyes started horribly from her head. When she breathed +the fresh air and felt the wind blow upon her, she sighed +a little, so that the merchants standing by, spoke comfortably +to her, but she might not answer them a word. +In the end, heart and speech came again to her. She +spoke to the chapmen and the sailors who pressed about +her, and much she marvelled how she found herself +amongst them. When she perceived that she was with +merchants and Christian men she was the more easy, +and fervently she praised Jesus Christ in her heart, +thanking Him for the loving kindness which had kept +her from death. For this lady was altogether contrite +in heart, and earnestly desired to amend her life towards +God, repenting the trespass she had done to others, +and fearing the judgment that was rightly her due. +The merchants inquired of the lady whence she came, +and she told them the truth, saying that she was a +miserable wretch and a poor sinner, as they could see +for themselves. She related the cruel adventure which +had chanced to her, and prayed them to take pity on +a most unhappy lady, and they answered that mercy +they would show. So with meat and drink her former +beauty came to her again.</p> + +<p>Now this merchant ship fared so far that she came to +the land of the Paynims, and cast anchor in the port +of Aumarie. Galleys of these Saracens came to know +their business, and they answered that they were +traffickers in divers merchandise in many a realm. +They showed them also the safe conduct they carried +of princes and mighty lords that they might pass in +safety through their countries to buy and sell their +goods. The merchants got them to land in this port, +taking the lady with them. They sought counsel one +of the other to know what it were best to do with her. +One was for selling her as a slave, but his companion +proposed to give her as a sop to the rich Soudan of +Aumarie, that their business should be the less hindered. +To this they all agreed. They arrayed the lady freshly +in broidered raiment, and carried her before the Soudan, +who was a lusty young man. He accepted their gift, +receiving the lady with a right glad heart, for she was +passing fair. The Soudan inquired of them as to who +she was.</p> + +<p>"Sire," answered the merchants, "we know no more +than you, but marvellous was the fashion in which she +came to our hands."</p> + +<p>The gift was so greatly to the Soudan's mind that he +served the chapmen to the utmost of his power. He +loved the lady very tenderly, and entreated her in all +honour. He held and tended her so well, that her sweet +colour came again to her, and her beauty increased +beyond measure. The Soudan sought to know by those +who had the gift of tongues as to the lady's home and +race, but these she would not reveal to any. He was +the more thoughtful therefore, because he might see +that she was a dame of birth and lineage. He inquired +of her as to whether she were a Christian woman, promising +that if she would deny her faith, he would take her +as his wife, since he was yet unwed. The lady saw +clearly that it were better to be converted by love than +perforce; so she answered that her religion was to do +her master's pleasure. When she had renounced her +faith, and rejected the Christian law, the Soudan made +her his dame according to the use and wont of this +country of the Paynim. He held her very dear, cherishing +her in all honour, for his love waxed deeper as the days +wore on.</p> + +<p>In due time it was with this lady after the manner +of women, and she came to bed of a son. The Soudan +rejoiced greatly, being altogether merry and content. +The lady, for her part, lived in fair fellowship with the +folk of her husband's realm. Very courteous was she, +and very serviceable, so that presently she was instructed +in the Saracen tongue. In no long while after the birth +of her son she conceived of a maid, who in the years +that befell grew passing sweet and fair, and richly was +she nurtured as became the daughter of so high a prince. +Thus for two years and a half the lady dwelt with the +Paynim in much softness and delight.</p> + +<p>Now the story keeps silence as to the lady and the +Soudan, her husband, till later, as you may hear, and +returns to the Count of Ponthieu, the son of the Count, +and to my lord Thibault of Dommare, who were left +grieving for the dame who was flung into the sea, as +you have heard, nor knew aught of her tidings, but +deemed that she were rather dead than alive. Now +tells the story—and the truth bears witness to itself +and is its own confirmation—that the Count was in +Ponthieu, together with his son, and Messire Thibault. +Very heavy was the Count, for in no wise could he get +his daughter from his mind, and grievously he lamented +the wrong that he had done her. Messire Thibault +dared not take to himself another wife, because of the +anguish of his friend. The son of the Count might not +wed also; neither durst he to become knight, though +he was come to an age when such things are greatly to +a young man's mind.</p> + +<p>On a day the Count considered deeply the sin that he +had committed against his own flesh. He sought the +Archbishop of Rheims in confession, and opened out +his grief, telling in his ear the crime that he had wrought. +He determined to seek those holy fields beyond the sea, +and sewed the Cross upon his mantle. When Messire +Thibault knew that his lord, the Count, had taken the +Cross, he confessed him, and did likewise. And when +the Count's son was assured of the purpose of his sire +and of Messire Thibault, whom he loved dearly, he took +the Cross with them. Passing heavy was the Count to +mark the Sign upon his son's raiment.</p> + +<p>"Fair son, what is this you have done; for now the +land remains without a lord!"</p> + +<p>The son answered, and said, +"Father, I wear the Sign first and foremost for the +love of God; afterwards for the saving of my soul, and +by reason that I would serve and honour Him to the +utmost of my power, so long as I have life in my body."</p> + +<p>The Count put his realm in ward full wisely. He +used diligence in making all things ready, and bade +farewell to his friends. Messire Thibault and the son +of the Count ordered their business, and the three set +forth together, with a fair company. They came to +that holy land beyond the sea, safe of person and of +gear. There they made devout pilgrimage to every +place where they were persuaded it was meet to go, +and God might be served. When the Count had done +all that he was able, he deemed that there was yet one +thing to do. He gave himself and his fellowship to the +service of the Temple for one year; and at the end of +this term he purposed to seek his country and his home. +He sent to Acre, and made ready a ship against his +voyage. He took his leave of the Knights Templar, +and other lords of that land, and greatly they praised +him for the worship that he had brought them. When +the Count and his company were come to Acre they +entered in the ship, and departed from the haven with +a fair wind. But little was their solace. For when they +drew to the open sea a strong and horrible tempest +sprang suddenly upon them, so that the sailors knew +not where they went, and feared each hour that all +would be drowned. So piteous was their plight that, +with ropes, they bound themselves one to another, the +son to the father, the uncle to the nephew, according +as they stood. The Count, his son, and Messire Thibault +for their part, fastened themselves together, so that the +same end should chance to all. In no long time after +this was done they saw land, and inquired of the shipmen +whither they were come. The mariners answered +that this realm belonged to the Paynim, and was called +the Land of Aumarie. They asked of the Count,</p> + +<p>"Sire, what is your will that we do? If we seek the +shore, doubtless we shall be made captives, and fall +into the hands of the Saracen."</p> + +<p>The Count made answer, +"Not my will, but the will of Jesus Christ be done. +Let the ship go as He thinks best. We will commit our +bodies and our lives to His good keeping, for a fouler +and an uglier death we cannot die, than to perish in +this sea."</p> + +<p>They drove with the wind along the coast of Aumarie, +and the galleys and warships of the Saracens put out +to meet them. Be assured that this was no fair meeting, +for the Paynims took them and led them before the +Soudan, who was lord of that realm. There they gave +him the goods and the bodies of these Christians as a +gift. The Soudan sundered this fair fellowship, setting +them in many places and in divers prisons; but since +the Count, his son, and Messire Thibault were so securely +bound together, he commanded that they should be +cast into a dungeon by themselves, and fed upon the +bread of affliction and the water of affliction. So it +was done, even as he commanded. In this prison they +lay for a space, till such time as the Count's son fell +sick. His sickness was so grievous that the Count and +Messire Thibault feared greatly that this sorrow was to +death.</p> + +<p>Now it came to pass that the Soudan held high Court +because of the day of his birth, for such was the custom +of the Saracens. After they had well eaten, the Saracens +stood before the Soudan, and said,</p> + +<p>"Sire, we require of you our right."</p> + +<p>He inquired of what right they were speaking, and +they answered,</p> + +<p>"Sire, a Christian captive to set as a mark for our +arrows."</p> + +<p>When the Soudan heard this he gave no thought to +such a trifle, but made reply,</p> + +<p>"Get you to the prison, and take out that captive +who has the least of life in him."</p> + +<p>The Paynim hastened to the dungeon, and brought +forth the Count, bearded, unkempt and foredone. The +Soudan marked his melancholy case, so he said to them, +"This man has not long to live; take him hence, and +do your will on him."</p> + +<p>The wife of the Soudan, of whom you have heard, the +daughter of this very Count, was in the hall, when they +brought forth her father to slay him. Immediately that +her eyes fell upon him the blood in her veins turned to +water; not so much that she knew him as her sire, but +rather that Nature tugged at her heart strings. Then +spake the dame to the Soudan, +"Husband, I, too, am French, and would gladly +speak with this poor wretch ere he die, if so I may."</p> + +<p>"Wife," answered the Soudan, "truly, yes; it +pleases me well."</p> + +<p>The lady came to the Count. She took him apart, +and bidding the Saracens fall back, she inquired of +him whence he was.</p> + +<p>"Lady, I am from the kingdom of France, of a +county that men call Ponthieu."</p> + +<p>When the lady heard this her bowels were moved. +Earnestly she demanded his name and race.</p> + +<p>"Of a truth, lady, I have long forgotten my father's +house, for I have suffered such pain and anguish since +I departed, that I would rather die than live. But +this you may know, that I—even the man who speaks +to you—was once the Count of Ponthieu."</p> + +<p>The lady hearkened to this, but yet she made no sign. +She went from the Count, and coming to the Soudan, +said,</p> + +<p>"Husband, give me this captive as a gift, if such +be your pleasure. He knows chess and draughts and +many fair tales to bring solace to the hearer. He shall +play before you, and we will make our pastime of his +skill."</p> + +<p>"Wife," answered the Soudan, "I grant him to you +very willingly; do with him as you wish."</p> + +<p>The lady took the captive, and bestowed him in her +chamber. The gaolers sought another in his stead, and +brought forth my lord Thibault, the husband to the +dame. He came out in tatters, for he was clothed +rather in his long hair and great beard, than in raiment. +His body was lean and bony, and he seemed as one who +had endured pain and sorrow enough, and to spare. +When the lady saw him she said to the Soudan,</p> + +<p>"Husband, with this one also would I gladly speak, +if so I may."</p> + +<p>"Wife," answered the Soudan, "it pleases me well."</p> + +<p>The lady came to my lord Thibault, and inquired +of him whence he was.</p> + +<p>"Lady, I am of the realm of that ancient gentleman +who was taken from prison before me. I had his daughter +to wife, and am his knight."</p> + +<p>The lady knew well her lord, so she returned to the +Soudan, and said to him, +"Husband, great kindness will you show me, if you +give me this captive also."</p> + +<p>"Wife," said the Soudan, "I grant him to you very +willingly."</p> + +<p>She thanked him sweetly, and bestowed the gift in +her chamber, with the other.</p> + +<p>The archers hastened together, and drawing before +the Soudan said, +"Sire, you do us wrong, for the day is far spent."</p> + +<p>They went straight to the prison, and brought forth +the son of the Count, shagged and filthy, as one who +had not known of water for many a day. He was a +young man, so young that his beard had not come on +him, but for all his youth he was so thin and sick and +weak, that he scarce could stand upon his feet. When +the lady saw him she had compassion upon him. She +came to him asking whose son he was and of his home, +and he replied that he was son to that gentleman, who +was first brought out of the dungeon. She knew well +that this was her brother, but she made herself strange +unto him.</p> + +<p>"Husband," said she to the Soudan, "verily you will +shew kindness to your wife beyond measure if you +grant me this captive. He knows chess and draughts +and other delights passing fair to see and hear."</p> + +<p>And the Soudan made answer, +"Wife, by our holy law if they were a hundred I +would give them all to you gladly."</p> + +<p>The lady thanked him tenderly, and bestowed the +captive swiftly in her chamber. The Saracens went again +to the prison and fetched out another, but the lady +left him to his fate, when she looked upon his face. So +he won a martyr's crown, and our Lord Jesus Christ +received his soul. As for the dame, she hid herself from +the sight, for it gave her little joy, this slaying of the +Christian by the Paynims.</p> + +<p>The lady came to her chamber, and at her coming the +captives would have got them to their feet, but she +made signs that they should remain seated. Drawing +close she made gestures of friendship. The Count, who +was very shrewd, asked at this, +"Lady, when will they slay us?"</p> + +<p>She answered that their time had not yet come.</p> + +<p>"Lady," said he, "the sorer grief is ours, for we are +so anhungered, that for a little our souls would leave +our bodies."</p> + +<p>The lady went out, and bade meat to be made ready. +This she carried in, giving to each a little, and to each a +little drink. When they had eaten, they had yet greater +hunger than before. In this manner she fed them, +little by little, ten times a day, for she deemed that +should they eat to their desire, they would die of repletion. +For this reason she caused them to break their +fast temperately. Thus the good lady dealt with them +for the first seven days, and at nights, by her grace, +they lay softly at their ease. She did away with their +rags, and clad them in seemly apparel. When the week +was done she set before them meat and drink to their +heart's desire, so that their strength returned to them +again. They had chess and draughts, and played these +games to their great content. The Soudan was often +with them. He watched the play, and took pleasure +in their gladness. But the lady refrained, so that none +might conceive, either by speech or fashion, that he +had known her before.</p> + +<p>Now a short while after this matter of the captives, +the story tells that the Soudan had business enough of +his own, for a mighty Sultan laid waste his realm, and +sought to do him much mischief. To avenge his wrong +the Soudan commanded his vassals from every place, +and assembled a great host. When the lady knew this, +she entered the chamber where the captives lay, and +sitting amidst them lifted her hand, and said, +"Sirs, you have told me somewhat of your business; +now will I be assured whether you are true men or not. +You told me that in your own land you were once the +Count of Ponthieu, that this man was wedded to your +daughter, and that this other was your son. Know +that I am a Saracen, having the science of astrology; +so I tell you plainly that you were never so near to a +shameful death, as you are now, if you hide from me +the truth. What chanced to your daughter, the wife +of this knight?"</p> + +<p>"Lady," replied the Count, "I deem her to be dead."</p> + +<p>"How came she to her death?"</p> + +<p>"Certes, lady," said the Count, "because for once +she received her deserts."</p> + +<p>"Tell me of these deservings," said the dame.</p> + +<p>Then the Count began to tell, with tears, of how she +was wedded, but was yet a barren wife; how the good +knight vowed pilgrimage to my lord St. James in +Galicia, and how the lady prayed that she might go +with him, which prayer he granted willingly. He told +how they went their way with joy, till alone, in the deep +wood, they met with sturdy felons who set upon them. +The good knight might do nothing against so many, +for he was a naked man; but despite of all, he slew three, +and five were left, who killed his palfrey, and spoiling +him to the very shirt, bound him hands and feet, and +flung him into a thorn bush. They spoiled the lady also +and stole her palfrey from her. When they looked upon +her, and saw that she was fair, each would have taken +her. Afterwards they accorded that she should be to +all, and having had their will in her despite, they departed +and left her weeping bitterly. This the good knight saw, +so he besought her courteously to unloose his hands, +that they might get them from the wood. But the lady +marked a sword belonging to one of these felons that +were slain. She handselled it, and hastening where he +lay, cried in furious fashion, "You are unbound already." +Then she raised the naked sword, and struck at his +body. But by the loving kindness of God, and the +vigour of the knight, she but sundered the bonds that +bound him, so that he sprang forth, and wounded as +he was, cried, +"Dame, by the grace of God it is not to-day that you +shall kill me with the sword."</p> + +<p>At this word that fair lady, the wife of the Soudan, +spoke suddenly, and said,</p> + +<p>"Ah, sir, you have told the tale honestly, and very +clear it is why she would have slain him."</p> + +<p>"For what reason, lady?"</p> + +<p>"Certes," answered she, "for reason of the great +shame which had befallen her."</p> + +<p>When Messire Thibault heard this he wept right +tenderly, and said, +"Alas, what part had she in this wickedness! May +God keep shut the doors of my prison if I had shown +her the sourer face therefore, seeing that her will was not +in the deed."</p> + +<p>"Sir," said the lady, "she feared your reproach. +But tell me which is the more likely, that she be alive +or dead?"</p> + +<p>"Lady," said Thibault, "we know not what to think."</p> + +<p>"Well I know," cried the Count, "of the great +anguish we have suffered, by reason of the sin I sinned +against her."</p> + +<p>"If it pleased God that she were yet living," inquired +the lady, "and tidings were brought which you could +not doubt, what would you have to say?"</p> + +<p>"Lady," said the Count, "I should be happier than +if I were taken from this prison, or were granted more +wealth than ever I have had in my life."</p> + +<p>"Lady," said Messire Thibault, "so God give me no +joy of my heart's dearest wish, if I had not more solace +than if men crowned me King of France."</p> + +<p>"Certes, lady," said the dansellon, who was her +brother, "none could give or promise me aught so +sweet, as the life of that sister, who was so fair and +good."</p> + +<p>When the lady hearkened to these words her heart +yearned with tenderness. She praised God, rendering +Him thanks, and said to them, +"Be sure that you speak with unfeigned lips."</p> + +<p>And they answered and said that they spoke with +unfeigned lips. Then the lady began to weep with happy +tears, and said to them, +"Sir, now may you truly say that you are my father, +for I am that daughter on whom you wrought such +bitter justice. And you, Messire Thibault, are my lord +and husband; and you, sir dansellon, are my brother."</p> + +<p>Then she rehearsed to them in what manner she was +found of the chapmen, and how they bestowed her as +a gift on the Soudan. They were very glad, and rejoiced +mightily, humbling themselves before her, but she +forbade them to show their mirth, saying, +"I am a Saracen, and have renounced the faith; +otherwise I should not be here, but were dead already. +Therefore I pray and beseech you as you love your lives +and would prolong your days, whatever you may see or +hear, not to show me any affection, but keep yourselves +strange to me, and leave me to unravel the coil. Now +I will tell why I have revealed myself to you. My +husband, the Soudan, rides presently to battle. I +know well, Messire Thibault, that you are a hardy +knight, and I will pray the Soudan to take you with +him. If ever you were brave, now is the time to make +it plain. See to it that you do him such service that he +have no grievance against you."</p> + +<p>The lady departed forthwith, and coming before the +Soudan, said, +"Husband, one of my captives desires greatly to go +with you, if such be your pleasure."</p> + +<p>"Wife," answered he, "I dare not put myself in his +hand, for fear that he may do me a mischief."</p> + +<p>"Husband, he will not dare to be false, since I hold +his companions as hostages."</p> + +<p>"Wife," said he, "I will take him with me, because +of your counsel, and I will deliver him a good horse and +harness, and all that warrior may require."</p> + +<p>The lady returned straightway to the chamber. She +said to Messire Thibault, +"I have persuaded the Soudan to bring you to the +battle. Act therefore manfully."</p> + +<p>At this her brother knelt at her knee, praying her to +plead with the Soudan that he might go also.</p> + +<p>"That I may not do," said she, "or the thing will +be too clear."</p> + +<p>The Soudan ordered his business, and went forth, +Messire Thibault being with him, and came upon the +enemy. According to his word, the Soudan had given +to the knight both horse and harness. By the will of +Jesus Christ, who faileth never such as have faith and +affiance in Him, Messire Thibault did such things in +arms that in a short space the enemies of the Soudan +were put under his feet. The Soudan rejoiced greatly +at his knight's deeds and his victory, and returned +bringing many captives with him. He went straight +to the dame, and said, +"Wife, by my law I have naught but good to tell +of your prisoner, for he has done me faithful service. +So he deny his faith, and receive our holy religion, I +will grant him broad lands, and find him a rich heiress +in marriage."</p> + +<p>"Husband, I know not, but I doubt if he will do this +thing."</p> + +<p>No more was spoken of the matter; but the lady set +her house in order, as best she was able, and coming +to her captives said, +"Sirs, go warily, so that the Saracens see nothing +of what is in our mind; for, please God, we shall yet +win to France and the county of Ponthieu."</p> + +<p>On a day the lady came before the Soudan. She +went in torment, and lamented very grievously.</p> + +<p>"Husband, it is with me as it was before. Well I +know it, for I have fallen into sore sickness, and my food +has no relish in my mouth, no, not since you went to +the battle."</p> + +<p>"Wife, I am right glad to hear that you are with +child, although your infirmity is very grievous unto +me. Consider and tell me those things that you deem will +be to your healing, and I will seek and procure them +whatever the cost."</p> + +<p>When the lady heard this, her heart beat lightly in +her breast. She showed no semblance of joy, save this +only, that she said, +"Husband, my old captive tells me that unless I +breathe for awhile such air as that of my native land, +and that quickly, I am but dead, for in nowise have I +long to live."</p> + +<p>"Wife," said the Soudan, "your death shall not be +on my conscience. Consider and show me where you +would go, and there I will cause you to be taken."</p> + +<p>"Husband, it is all one to me, so I be out of this +city."</p> + +<p>Then the Soudan made ready a ship, both fair and +strong, and garnished her plenteously with wines and +meats.</p> + +<p>"Husband," said the lady to the Soudan, "I will +take of my captives the aged and the young, that they +may play chess and draughts at my bidding, and I will +carry with me my son for my delight."</p> + +<p>"Wife," answered he, "your will is my pleasure. +But what shall be done with the third captive?"</p> + +<p>"Husband, deal with him after your desire."</p> + +<p>"Wife, I desire that you take him on the ship; for +he is a brave man, and will keep you well, both on +land and sea, if you have need of his sword."</p> + +<p>The lady took leave of the Soudan, bidding him farewell, +and urgently he prayed her to return so soon as +she was healed of her sickness. The stores being put +upon the ship and all things made ready, they entered +therein and set sail from the haven. With a fair +wind they went very swiftly, so that the shipmen +sought the lady, saying, +"Madam, this wind is driving the boat to Brindisi. +Is it your pleasure to take refuge there, or to go elsewhere?"</p> + +<p>"Let the ship keep boldly on her course," answered +the lady to them, "for I speak French featly and other +tongues also, so I will bring you to a good end."</p> + +<p>They made such swift passage by day and by night, +that according to the will of Our Lord they came quickly +to Brindisi. The ship cast anchor safely in the harbour, +and they lighted on the shore, being welcomed gladly +by the folk of that country. The lady, who was very +shrewd, drew her captives apart, and said, +"Sirs, I desire you to call to mind the pledge and +the covenant you have made. I must now be certain +that you are true men, remembering your oaths and +plighted words. I pray you to let me know, by all +that you deem of God, whether you will abide or not +by our covenant together; for it is yet not too late to +return to my home."</p> + +<p>They answered, +"Lady, know beyond question that the bargain we +have made we will carry out loyally. By our faith in +God and as christened men we will abide by this covenant; +so be in no doubt of our assurance."</p> + +<p>"I trust you wholly," replied the lady; "but, sirs, +see here my son, whom I had of the Soudan, what shall +we do with him?"</p> + +<p>"Lady, the boy is right welcome, and to great honour +shall he come in our own land."</p> + +<p>"Sirs," said the dame, "I have dealt mischievously +with the Soudan, for I have stolen my person from him, +and the son who was so dear to his heart."</p> + +<p>The lady went again to the shipmen, and lifting her +hand, said to them, +"Sirs, return to the Soudan whence you came, and +greet him with this message. Tell him that I have taken +from him my body and the son he loved so well, that I +might deliver my father, my lord, and my brother +from the prison where they were captive."</p> + +<p>When the sailors heard this they were very dolent, +but there was naught that they might do. They set +sail for their own country, sad and very heavy by reason +of the lady, of the young lad, whom they loved greatly, +and of the captives who were escaped altogether from +their hand.</p> + +<p>For his part the Count arrayed himself meetly by +grace of merchants and Templars, who lent him gladly +of their wealth. He abode in the town, together with +his fellowship, for their solace, till they made them ready +for the journey, and took the road to Rome. The Count +sought the Pontiff, and his company with him. Each +confessed him of the secrets of his heart, and when the +Bishop heard thereof, he accepted their devotion, and +comforted them right tenderly. He baptised the child, +who was named William. He reconciled the lady with +Holy Church, and confirmed the lady and Messire Thibault +her lord, in their marriage bond, reknitting them together, +giving penance to each, and absolution for their +sins. After this they made no long sojourn in Rome, +but took their leave of the Apostle who had honoured +them so greatly. He granted them his benison, and +commended them to God. So they went their way in +great solace and delight, praising God and His Mother, +and all the calendar of saints, and rendering thanks +for the mercies which had been vouchsafed to them. +Journeying thus they came at last to the country of +their birth, and were met by a fair procession of bishops +and abbots, monks and priests, who had desired them +fervently. But of all these welcomes they welcomed +most gladly her who was recovered from death, and had +delivered her sire, her lord, and her brother from the +hands of the Paynim, even as you have heard. There +we leave them for awhile, and will tell you of the +shipmen and Saracens who had fared with them across +the sea.</p> + +<p>The sailors and Saracens who had carried them to +Brindisi, returned as quickly as they were able, and +with a fair wind cast anchor before Aumarie. They +got them to land, very sad and heavy, and told their +tidings to the Soudan. +Right sorrowful was the Soudan, and neither for time +nor reason could he forget his grief. Because of this +mischief he loved that daughter the less who tarried +with him, and showed her the less courtesy. Nevertheless +the maiden increased in virtue and in wisdom, +so that the Paynim held her in love and honour, praising +her for the good that was known of her. But now the +story is silent as to that Soudan who was so tormented +by reason of the flight of his dame and captives; and +comes again to the Count of Ponthieu, who was welcomed +to his realm with such pomp and worship, as became a +lord of his degree.</p> + +<p>In no long while after his return the son of the Count +was dubbed knight, and rich was the feast. He became +a knight both chivalrous and brave. Greatly he loved +all honourable men, and gladly he bestowed fair gifts +on the poor knights and poor gentlewomen of the +country. Much was he esteemed of lord and hind, +for he was a worthy knight, generous, valiant and +debonair, proud only to his foes. Yet his days on earth +were but a span, which was the sorer pity, for he died +lamented of all.</p> + +<p>Now it befell that the Count held high Court, and +many a knight and lord sat with him at the feast. +Amongst these came a very noble man and knight, of +great place, in Normandy, named my lord Raoul des +Preaux. This Raoul had a daughter, passing sweet and +fair. The Count spoke so urgently to Raoul and to +the maiden's kin that a marriage was accorded between +William, his grandson, the son of the Soudan of Aumarie, +and the daughter of my lord Raoul, the heiress to all +his wealth. William wedded the damsel with every rich +observance, and in right of his wife this William became +Lord of Preaux.</p> + +<p>For a long while the realm had peace from its foes.</p> + +<p>Messire Thibault dwelt with the lady, and had of her +two sons, who in later days were worthy gentlemen of +great worship. The son of the Count of Ponthieu, of +whom we have spoken much and naught but good, died +shortly after, to the grief of all the land. The Count of +St. Pol was yet alive; therefore the two sons of my +lord Thibault were heirs to both these realms, and attained +thereto in the end. That devout lady, their mother, +because of her contrite heart, gave largely to the poor; +and Messire Thibault, like the honourable gentleman he +was, abounded in good works so long as he was quick.</p> + +<p>Now it chanced that the daughter of the lady, who +abode with the Soudan her father, increased greatly +in favour and in virtue. She was called The Fair +Captive, by reason that her mother had left her in the +Soudan's keeping, as you have heard. A certain brave +Turk in the service of the Soudan—Malakin of Baudas +by name—saw this damsel, so fair and gracious, and +desired her dearly in his heart, because of the good men +told of her. He came before his master, and said to +him,</p> + +<p>"Sire, in return for his labour your servant craves +a gift."</p> + +<p>"Malakin," returned the Soudan, "what gift would +you have?"</p> + +<p>"Sire, I would dare to tell it to your face, if only +she were not so high above my reach."</p> + +<p>The Sultan who was both shrewd and quick witted +made reply,</p> + +<p>"Say out boldly what is in your mind, for I hold +you dear, and remember what you have done. If there +is aught it beseems me to grant—saving only my honour—be +assured that it is yours."</p> + +<p>"Sire, well I know that your honour is without spot, +nor would I seek anything against it. I pray you to +bestow on your servant—if so it be your pleasure—my +lady your daughter, for she is the gift I covet most in +all the world."</p> + +<p>The Soudan kept silence, and considered for a space. +He knew well that Malakin was both valiant and wise, +and might easily come to great honour and degree. +Since the servant was worthy of his high desire, the +Soudan said, +"By my law you have required of me a great thing, +for I love my daughter dearly, and have no other heir. +You know well, and it is the simple truth, that she comes +of the best and bravest blood in France, for her mother +is the child of the Count of Ponthieu. But since you +too are valiant, and have done me loyal service, for my +part I will give her to you willingly, save only that it +be to the maiden's mind."</p> + +<p>"Sire," said Malakin, "I would not take her against +her wish."</p> + +<p>The Soudan bade the girl be summoned. When she +came, he said, +"Fair daughter, I have granted you in marriage, if +it pleases you."</p> + +<p>"Sir," answered the maiden, "my pleasure is in your +will."</p> + +<p>The Soudan took her by the hand, saying, +"Take her, Malakin, the maid is yours."</p> + +<p>Malakin received her with a glad heart, and wedded +her according to the Paynim rite, bringing her to his +house right joyously, with the countenance of all his +friends. Afterwards he returned with her to his own +land. The Soudan escorted them upon their way, +with such a fair company of his household as seemed +good to him. Then he bade farewell to his child and her +lord, and returned to his home. But a great part of his +fellowship he commanded to go with her for their service, +Malakin came back to his own land, where he was +welcomed right gladly of his friends, and served and +honoured by all the folk of his realm. He lived long and +tenderly with his wife, neither were they childless, as +this story testifies. For of this lady, who was called +the Fair Captive, was born the mother of that courteous +Turk, the Sultan Saladin, an honourable, a wise, and a +conquering lord.</p> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="XVII"></a><h2>XVII</h2> + +<p>THE CHATELAINE OF VERGI</p> +<br> + +<p>There are divers men who make a great show of loyalty, +and pretend to such discretion in the hidden things they +hear, that at the end folk come to put faith in them. +When by their false seeming they have persuaded the +simple to open out to them their love and their deeds, +then they noise the matter about the country, and make +it their song and their mirth. Thus it chances that the +lesser joy is his who has bared to them his heart. For +the sweeter the love, the more bitter is the pang that +lovers know, when each deems the other to have bruited +abroad the secret he should conceal. Oftentimes these +blabbers do such mischief with their tongue, that the +love they spoil comes to its close in sorrow and in care. +This indeed happened in Burgundy to a brave and worthy +knight, and to the Lady of Vergi. This knight loved +his lady so dearly that she granted him her tenderness, +on such covenant as this—that the day he showed her +favour to any, that very hour he would lose the love +and the grace she bestowed on him. To seal this bond +they devised together that the knight should come a +days to an orchard, at such hour as seemed good to +his friend. He must remain coy in his nook within the +wall till he might see the lady's lapdog run across the +orchard. Then without further tarrying he should enter +her chamber, knowing full well she was alone, whom so +fondly he desired to greet. This he did, and in this +fashion they met together for a great while, none being +privy to their sweet and stolen love, save themselves +alone.</p> + +<p>The knight was courteous and fair, and by reason of +his courage was right welcome to that Duke who was lord +of Burgundy. He came and went about the Court, and +that so often that the Duchess set her mind upon him. +She cared so little to hide her thought, that had his +heart not been in another's keeping, he must surely +have perceived in her eyes that she loved him. But +however tender her semblance the knight showed no +kindness in return, for he marked nothing of her inclination. +Passing troubled was the dame that he should +treat her thus; so that on a day she took him apart, +and sought to make him of her counsel.</p> + +<p>"Sir, as men report, you are a brave and worthy +knight, for the which give God thanks. It would +not be more than your deserts, if you had for friend a +lady in so high a place that her love would bring to you +both honour and profit. How richly could such a +lady serve you!"</p> + +<p>"Lady," said he, "I have never yet had this in my +thought."</p> + +<p>"By my faith," she answered, "it seems to me that +the longer you wait, the less is your hope. Perchance +the lady will stoop very readily from her throne, if you +but kneel at her knee."</p> + +<p>The knight replied, +"Lady, by my faith, I know little why you speak such +words, and I understand their meaning not at all. I +am neither duke nor count to dare to set my love in +so high a seat. There is nought in me to gain the love +of so sovereign a dame, pain me how I may."</p> + +<p>"Such things have been," said she, "and so may +chance again. Many more marvellous works have been +wrought than this, and the day of miracles is not yet +past. Tell me, know you not yet that you have gained +the love of some high princess, even mine?"</p> + +<p>The knight made answer forthwith, +"Lady, I know it not. I would desire to have your +love in a fair and honourable fashion; but may God +keep me from such love between us, as would put shame +upon my lord. In no manner, nor for any reason, will +I enter on such a business as would lead me to deal my +true and lawful lord so shrewd and foul a wrong."</p> + +<p>Bitter at heart was the dame to see her love so scorned.</p> + +<p>"Fie upon you," she cried, "and who required of +you any such thing?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, lady, to God be the praise; you have said +enough to make your meaning passing plain."</p> + +<p>The lady strove no more to show herself kind to him. +Great was the wrath and sharp the malice that she hid +within her heart, and well she purposed that, if she might, +she would avenge herself speedily. All the day she +considered her anger. That night as she lay beside the +Duke she began to sigh, and afterwards to weep. Presently +the Duke inquired of her grief, bidding her show +it him forthwith.</p> + +<p>"Certes," said the dame, "I make this great sorrow +because no prince can tell who is his faithful servant, and +who is not. Often he gives the more honour and wealth +to those who are traitors rather than friends, and sees +nothing of their wrong."</p> + +<p>"In faith, wife," answered the Duke, "I know not why +you speak these words. At least I am free of such blame +as this, for in nowise would I nourish a traitor, if only a +traitor I knew him to be."</p> + +<p>"Hate then this traitor," cried she,—and she named a +name—"who gives me no peace, praying and requiring +me the livelong day that I should grant him my love. +For a great while he had been in this mind—as he +says—but did not dare to speak his thoughts. I considered +the whole matter, fair lord, and resolved to show +it you at once. It is likely enough to be true that he +cherished this hope, for we have never heard that he loves +elsewhere. I entreat you in guerdon, to look well to your +own honour, since this, as you know, is your duty and +right."</p> + +<p>Passing grievous was this business to the Duke. He +answered to the lady,</p> + +<p>"I will bring it to a head, and very quickly, as I deem."</p> + +<p>That night the Duke lay upon a bed of little ease. He +could neither sleep nor rest, by reason of that lord, his +friend, who, he was persuaded, had done him such bitter +wrong as justly to have forfeited his love. Because of +this he kept vigil the whole night through. He rose very +early on the morrow, and bade him come whom his wife +had put to blame, although he had done nothing blameworthy. +Then he took him to task, man to man, when +there were but these two together.</p> + +<p>"Certes," he said, "it is a heavy grief that you who are +so comely and brave, should yet have no honour in you. +You have deceived me the more, for I have long believed +you to be a man of good faith, giving loyalty, at least, to +me, in return for the love I have given to you. I know +not how you can have harboured such a felon's wish, as +to pray and require the Duchess to grant you her grace. +You are guilty of such treachery that conduct more +vile it would be far to seek. Get you hence from my +realm. You have my leave to part, and it is denied to +you for ever. If you return here it will be at your utmost +peril, for I warn you beforehand that if I lay hands +upon you, you will die a shameful death."</p> + +<p>When the knight heard this judgment, such wrath and +mortification were his that his members trembled beneath +him. He called to mind his friend, of whom he would +have no joy, if he might not come and go and sojourn +in that realm from which the Duke had banished +him. Moreover he was sick at heart that his lord should +deem him a disloyal traitor, without just cause. He +knew such sore discomfort that he held himself as dead +and betrayed.</p> + +<p>"Sire," said he, "for the love of God believe this never, +neither think that I have been so bold. To do that of +which you wrongfully charge me, has never entered my +mind, not one day, nor for one single hour. Who has +told you this lie has wrought a great ill."</p> + +<p>"You gain nothing by such denials," answered the +Duke, "for of a surety the thing is true. I have heard +from her own lips the very guise and fashion in which +you prayed and required her love, like the envious +traitor that you are. Many another word it may well be +that you spoke, as to which the lady of her courtesy keeps +silence."</p> + +<p>"My lady says what it pleases her to say," replied the +dolorous knight, "and my denials are lighter than +her word. Naught is there for me to say; nothing is left +for me to do, so that I may be believed that this adventure +never happened."</p> + +<p>"Happen it did, by my soul," said the Duke, remembering +certain words of his wife. Well he deemed that he +might be assured of the truth, if but the lady's testimony +were true that this lord had never loved otherwhere. +Therefore the Duke said to the knight, +"If you will pledge your faith to answer truly what I +may ask, I shall be certified by your words whether +or not you have done this deed of which I misdoubt +you."</p> + +<p>The knight had but one desire—to turn aside his lord's +wrath, which had so wrongfully fallen upon him. He +feared only lest he should be driven from the land where +lodged the dame who was the closest to his mind. +Knowing nothing of what was in the Duke's thought, he +considered that his question could only concern the one +matter; so he replied that without fraud or concealment +he would do as his lord had said. Thus he pledged his +faith, and the Duke accepted his affiance.</p> + +<p>When this was done the Duke made question,</p> + +<p>"I have loved you so dearly that at the bottom of my +heart I cannot believe you guilty of such shameless +misdoing as the Duchess tells me. I would not credit it +a moment, if you yourself were not the cause of my doubtfulness. +From your face, the care you bestow upon your +person, and a score of trifles, any who would know, can +readily see that you are in love with some lady. Since +none about the Court perceives damsel or dame on whom +you have set your heart, I ask myself whether indeed +it may not be my wife, who tells me that you have +entreated her for love. Nothing that any one may do +can take this suspicion from my mind, except you tell +me yourself that you love elsewhere, making it so plain +that I am left without doubt that I know the naked +truth. If you refuse her name you will have broken +your oath, and forth from my realm you go as an outlawed +man."</p> + +<p>The knight had none to give him counsel. To himself +he seemed to stand at the parting of two ways, both +one and the other leading to death. If he spoke the +simple truth (and tell he must if he would not be a +perjurer) then was he as good as dead; for if he did +such wrong as to sin against the covenant with his lady +and his friend, certainly he would lose her love, so it +came to her knowledge. But if he concealed the truth +from the Duke, then he was false to his oath, and had +lost both country and friend. But little he recked of +country, so only he might keep his Love, since of all +his riches she was the most dear. The knight called to +heart and remembrance the fair joy and the solace that +were his when he had this lady between his arms. He +considered within himself that if by reason of his misdoing +she came to harm, or were lost to him, since he +might not take her where he went, how could he live +without her. It would be with him also, as erst with +the Castellan of Couci, who having his Love fast only +in his heart, told over in his song,</p> + +Ah, God, strong Love, I sit and weep alone,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Remembering the solace that was given;</span><br> +The tender guise, the semblance that was shown<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By her, my friend, my comrade, and my Heaven.</span><br> +<br> +When grief brings back the joy that was mine own,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I would the heart from out my breast were riven.</span><br> +Ah, Lord, the sweet words hushed, the beauty flown;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Would God that I were dead, and low, and shriven.</span><br> + +<p>The knight was in anguish such as this, for he knew +not whether to make clear the truth, or to lie and be +banished from the country.</p> + +<p>Whilst he was deep in thought, turning over in his +mind what it were best to do, tears rose in his heart +and flowed from his eyes, so that his face was wet, by +reason of the sorrow that he suffered. The Duke +had no more mirth than the knight, deeming that his +secret was so heavy that he dared not make it plain. +The Duke spoke swiftly to his friend,</p> + +<p>"I see clearly that you fear to trust me wholly, as a +knight should trust his lord. If you confess your counsel +privily to me, you cannot think that I shall show the +matter to any man. I would rather have my teeth +drawn one by one, than speak a word."</p> + +<p>"Ah," cried the knight, "for God's love, have pity, +Sire. I know not what I ought to say, nor what will +become of me; but I would rather die than lose what lose +I shall if she only hears that you have the truth, and that +you heard it from my lips, whilst I am a living man."</p> + +<p>The Duke made answer,</p> + +<p>"I swear to you by my body and my soul, and on +the faith and love I owe you again by reason of your +homage, that never in my life will I tell the tale to any +creature born, or even breathe a word or make a sign +about the business."</p> + +<p>With the tears yet running down his face the knight +said to him,</p> + +<p>"Sire, right or wrong, now will I show my secret. +I love your niece of Vergi, and she loves me, so that no +friends can love more fondly."</p> + +<p>"If you wish to be believed," replied the Duke, "tell +me now, if any, save you two alone, knows anything of +this joy?"</p> + +<p>And the knight made answer to him,</p> + +<p>"Nay, not a creature in the world."</p> + +<p>Then said the Duke,</p> + +<p>"No love is so privy as that. If none has heard +thereof, how do you meet together, and how devise +time and place?"</p> + +<p>"By my faith, Sire, I will tell you all, and keep back +nothing, since you know so much of our counsel."</p> + +<p>So he related the whole story of his goings to and fro +within the pleasaunce; of that first covenant with his +friend, and of the office of the little dog.</p> + +<p>Then said the Duke,</p> + +<p>"I require of you that I may be your comrade at +such fair meeting. When you go again to the orchard, I +too, would enter therein, and mark for myself the success of +your device. As for my niece she shall perceive naught."</p> + +<p>"Sire, if it be your will it is my pleasure also; save, +only, that you find it not heavy or burdensome. Know +well that I go this very night."</p> + +<p>The Duke said that he would go with him, for the +vigil would in no wise be burdensome, but rather a +frolic and a game. They accorded between them a place +of meeting, where they would draw together on foot, +and alone. When nightfall was come they fared to the +hostel of the Duke's niece, for her dwelling was near +at hand. They had not tarried long in the garden, when +the Duke saw his niece's lapdog run straight to that +end of the orchard where the knight was hidden. +Wondrous kindness showed the knight to his lady's +dog. Immediately he took his way to her lodging, and left +his master in his nook by the wall. The Duke followed +after till he drew near the chamber, and held himself +coy, concealing him as best he might. It was easy +enough to do this, for a great tree stood there, high and +leafy, so that he was covered close as by a shield. From +this place he marked the little dog enter the chamber, +and presently saw his niece issue therefrom, and hurry +forth to meet her lover in the pleasaunce. He was so +close that he could see and hear the solace of that +greeting, the salutation of her mouth and of her hands. +She embraced him closely in her fair white arms, kissing +him more than a hundred times, whilst she spoke many +comforting words. The knight for his part kissed her +again, and held her fast, praising her with many tender +names.</p> + +<p>"My lady, my friend, my love," said he, "heart and +mistress and hope, and the sum of all that I hold dear, +know well that I have yearned to be with you as we are +now, every day and all day long since we met."</p> + +<p>"Sweet lord, sweet friend, sweet love," replied the +lady, "never has a day nor an hour gone by but I was +awearied of its length. But I grieve no longer over the +past, for I have my heart's desire when you are with +me, joyous and well. Right welcome are you to your +friend."</p> + +<p>And the knight made answer,</p> + +<p>"Love, you are welcome and wellmet."</p> + +<p>From his place of hiding, near the entrance to the +chamber, the Duke hearkened to every word. His +niece's voice and face were so familiar to him, that he +could not doubt that the Duchess had lied. Greatly +was he content, for he was now assured that his friend +had not done amiss in that of which he had misdoubted +him. All through the night he kept watch and ward. +But during his vigil the dame and the knight, close and +sleepless in the chamber, knew such joy and tenderness +as it is not seemly should be told or heard, save of those +who hope themselves to attain such solace, when Love +grants them recompense for all their pains. For he +who desires nothing of this joy and quittance, even if +it were told him, would but listen to a tongue he could +not understand, since his heart is not turned to Love, +and none can know the wealth of such riches, except +Love whisper it in his ear. Of such kingdom not all +are worthy: for there joy goes without anger, and solace +is crowned with fruition. But so fleet are things sweet, +that to the lover his joy seems to find but a brief content. +So pleasant is the life he passes that he wishes his night +a week, his week to stretch to a month, the month +become a year, and one year three, and three years +twenty, and the twenty attain to a hundred. Yea, when +the term and end were reached, he would that the dusk +were closing, rather than the dawn had come.</p> + +<p>This was the case with the lover whom the Duke +awaited in the orchard. When day was breaking, and +he durst remain no longer, he came with his lady to +the door. The Duke marked the fashion of their leave-taking, +the kisses given and granted, the sighs and the +weeping as they bade farewell. When they had wept +many tears, and devised an hour for their next meeting, +the knight departed in this fashion, and the lady shut +the door. But so long as she might see him, she followed +his going with her pretty eyes, since there was nothing +better she could do.</p> + +<p>When the Duke knew the postern was made fast, +he hastened on his road until he overtook the knight, +who to himself was making his complaint of the season, +that all too short was his hour. The same thought +and the self same words were hers from whom he had +parted, for the briefness of the time had betrayed her +delight, and she had no praises for the dawn. The knight +was deep in his thought and speech, when he was overtaken +by the Duke. The Duke embraced his friend, +greeting him very tenderly. Then he said to him,</p> + +<p>"I pledge my faith that I will love you all the days +of my life, never on any day seeking to do you a mischief, +for you have told me the very truth, and have not lied +to me by a single word."</p> + +<p>"Sire," he made answer, "thanks and gramercy. +But for the love of God I require and pray of you that +it be your pleasure to hide this counsel; for I should +lose my love, and the peace and comfort of my life—yea, +and should die without sin of my own, if I deemed +that any other in this realm than yourself knew aught +of the business."</p> + +<p>"Now speak of it never," replied the Duke. "Know +that the counsel shall be kept so hidden, that by me +shall not a syllable be spoken."</p> + +<p>On this covenant they came again whence they had set +forth together. That day, when men sat at meat, the +Duke showed to his knight a friendlier semblance and a +fairer courtesy than ever he had done before. The +Duchess felt such wrath and despitefulness at this, +that—without any leasing—she rose from the table, +and making pretence of sudden sickness, went to lie +upon her bed, where she found little softness. When +the Duke had eaten and washed and made merry, he +afterwards sought his wife's chamber, and causing her +to be seated on her bed, commanded that none should +remain, save himself. So all men went forth at his +word, even as he had bidden. Thereupon the Duke +inquired of the lady how this evil had come to her, and +of what she was sick. She made answer,</p> + +<p>"As God hears me, never till I ate at table did I deem +that you had so little sense or decency, as when I saw +you making much of him, who, I have told you already, +strove to bring shame and disgrace on me. When I +watched you entreat him with more favour than even +was your wont, such great sorrow and such great anger +took hold on me, that I could not contain myself in the +hall."</p> + +<p>"Sweet friend," replied the Duke, "know that I shall +never believe—either from your lips or from those of +any creature in the world—that the story ever happened +as you rehearsed it. I am so deep in his counsel that he +has my quittance, for I have full assurance that he never +dreamed of such a deed. But as to this you must ask +of me no more."</p> + +<p>The Duke went straightway from the chamber, leaving +the lady sunk in thought. However long she had to live, +never might she know an hour's comfort, till she had +learnt something of that secret of which the Duke +forbade her to seek further. No denial could now stand +in her way, for in her heart swiftly she devised a means +to unriddle this counsel, so only she might endure +until the evening, and the Duke was in her arms. She +was persuaded that, beyond doubt, such solace would +win her wish more surely than wrath or tears. For +this purpose she held herself coy, and when the Duke +came to lie at her side she betook herself to the further +side of the bed, making semblance that his company +gave her no pleasure. Well she knew that such show +of anger was the device to put her lord beneath her feet. +Therefore she turned her back upon him, that the Duke +might the more easily be drawn by the cords of her wrath. +For this same reason when he had no more than kissed +her, she burst out,</p> + +<p>"Right false and treacherous and disloyal are you to +make such a pretence of affection, who yet have never +loved me truly one single day. All these years of our +wedded life I have been foolish enough to believe, what +you took such pains in the telling, that you loved +me with a loyal heart. To-day I see plainly that I +was the more deceived."</p> + +<p>"In what are you deceived?" inquired the Duke.</p> + +<p>"By my faith," cried she, who was sick of her desire, +"you warn me that I be not so bold as to ask aught of +that of which you know the secret."</p> + +<p>"In God's name, sweet wife, of what would you +know?"</p> + +<p>"Of all that he has told you, the lies and the follies +he has put in your mind, and led you to believe. But +it matters little now whether I hear it or not, for I +remember how small is my gain in being your true +and loving wife. For good or for ill I have shown you +all my counsel. There was nothing that was known +and seen of my heart that you were not told at once; +and of your courtesy you repay me by concealing your +mind. Know, now, without doubt, that never again +shall I have in you such affiance, nor grant you my love +with such sweetness, as I have bestowed them in the past."</p> +<br> + +<p>Thereat the Duchess began to weep and sigh, making +the most tender sorrow that she was able. The Duke +felt such pity for her grief that he said to her,</p> + +<p>"Fairest and dearest, your wrath and anger are more +heavy than I can bear; but learn that I cannot tell +what you wish me to say without sinning against my +honour too grievously."</p> + +<p>Then she replied forthwith,</p> + +<p>"Husband, if you do not tell me, the reason can only +be that you do not trust me to keep silence in the business. +I wonder the more sorely at this, because there +is no matter, either great or small, that you have told +me, which has been published by me. I tell you honestly +that never in my life could I be so indiscreet."</p> + +<p>When she had said this, she betook her again to her +tears. The Duke kissed and embraced her, and was +so sick of heart that strength failed him to keep his +purpose.</p> + +<p>"Fair wife," he said to her, "by my soul I am at +my wits' end. I have such trust and faith in you that +I deem I should hide nothing, but show you all that I +know. Yet I dread that you will let fall some word. +Know, wife—and I tell it you again—that if ever +you betray this counsel you will get death for your +payment."</p> + +<p>The Duchess made answer,</p> + +<p>"I agree to the bargain, for it is not possible that I +should deal you so shrewd a wrong."</p> + +<p>Then he who loved her, because of his faith and his +credence in her word, told all this story of his niece, +even as he had learned it from the knight. He told how +those two were alone together in the shadow of the +wall, when the little dog ran to them. He showed +plainly of that coming forth from the chamber, and of +the entering in; nothing was hid, he concealed naught +of that he had heard and seen. When the Duchess +understood that the love of a mighty dame was despised +for the sake of a lowly gentlewoman, her humiliation +was bitter in her mouth as death. She showed no semblance +of despitefulness, but made covenant and +promise with the Duke to keep the matter close, saying +that should she repeat his tale he might hang her from +a tree.</p> + +<p>Time went very heavily with the lady, till she could +get speech with her, whom she hated from the hour she +knew her to be the friend of him who had caused her +such shame and grief. She was persuaded that for this +reason he would not give her love, in return for that +she set on him. She confirmed herself in her purpose, +that at such time and place she saw the Duke speaking +with his niece, she would go swiftly to the lady, and tell +out all her mind, hiding nothing because it was evil. +Neither time nor place was met, till Pentecost was come, +and the Duke held high Court, commanding to the feast +all the ladies of his realm, amongst the first that lady, +his niece, who was the Chatelaine of Vergi. When the +Duchess looked on her, the blood pricked in her veins, +for reason that she hated her more than aught else in +the world. She had the courage to hide her malice, and +greeted the lady more gladly than ever she had done +before. But she yearned to show openly the anger that +burned in her heart, and the delay was much against +her mind. On Pentecost, whilst the tables were removed, +the Duchess brought the ladies to her chamber with +her, that, apart from the throng, they might the more +graciously attire them for the dance. She deemed her +hour had come, and having no longer the power to +refrain her lips, she said gaily, as if in jest,</p> + +<p>"Chatelaine, array yourself very sweetly, since there +is a fair and worthy lord you have to please."</p> + +<p>The lady answered right simply,</p> + +<p>"In truth, madam, I know not what you are thinking +of; but for my part I wish for no such friendship as +may not be altogether according to my honour and to +that of my lord."</p> + +<p>"I grant that readily," replied the Duchess, "you +are a good mistress, and have an apt pupil in your little +dog."</p> + +<p>The ladies returned with the Duchess to the hall, +where the dances were already set. They had listened +to the tale, but could not mark the jest. The chatelaine +remained in the chamber. Her colour came and went, +and because of her wrath and trouble the heart throbbed +thickly in her breast. She passed within a tiring chamber, +where a little maiden was lying at the foot of the +bed; but for grief she might not perceive her. The +chatelaine flung herself upon the bed, bewailing her +evil plight, for she was exceedingly sorrowful. She +said,</p> + +<p>"Ah, Lord God, take pity on me! What may this +mean, that I have listened to my lady's reproaches +because of the training of my little dog! This she can +have learned from none—as well I know—save from him +whom I have loved, and who has betrayed me. He +would never have shown her this thing, except that he +was her familiar friend, and doubtless loves her more +dearly than me, whom he has betrayed. I see now the +value of his oaths, since he finds it so easy to fail in his +covenant. Sweet God, and I loved him so fondly, more +fondly than any woman has loved before; who never had +him from my thoughts one single hour, whether it were +night or day. For he was my mirth and my carol; in +him were my joy and my pleasure; he alone was my +solace and comfort. Ah, my friend, how can this have +come; you who were always with me, even when I +might not see you with my eyes! What ill has befallen +you, that you durst prove false to me? I deemed you +more faithful—God take me in His keeping—than ever +was Tristan to Isoude. May God pity a poor fool, I +loved you half as much again than I had love for myself. +From the first to the last of our friendship, never by +thought, or by word, or by deed, have I done amiss; +there is no wrong doing, trifling or great, to make plain +your hatred, or to excuse so vile a betrayal as this +scorning of our love for a fresher face, this desertion +of me, this proclaiming of our secret. Alas, my friend, +I marvel greatly; for as God is my witness my heart +was not thus towards you. If God had offered me all +the kingdoms of the world, yea, and His Heaven and its +Paradise besides, I would have refused them gladly, had +my gain meant the losing of you. For you were my +wealth and my song and my health, and nothing can +hurt me any more, since my heart has learnt that yours +no longer loves me. Ah, lasting, precious love! Who +could have guessed that he would deal this blow, to +whom I gave the grace of my tenderness—who said +that I was his lady both in body and in soul, and +he the slave at my bidding. Yea, he told it over so +sweetly, that I believed him faithfully, nor thought in +any wise that his heart would bear wrath and malice +against me, whether for Duchess or for Queen. How +good was this love, since the heart in my breast must +always cleave to his! I counted him to be my friend, +in age as in youth, our lives together; for well I knew +that if he died first I should not dare to endure long +without him, because of the greatness of my love. The +grave, with him, would be fairer, than life in a world +where I might never see him with my eyes. Ah, lasting, +precious love! Is it then seemly that he should publish +our counsel, and destroy her who had done him no +wrong? When I gave him my love without grudging, +I warned him plainly, and made covenant with him, +that he would lose me the self same hour that he made +our tenderness a song. Since part we must, I may not +live after so bitter a sorrow; nor would I choose to +live, even if I were able. Fie upon life, it has no savour +in it. Since it pleases me naught, I pray to God to grant +me death, and—so truly as I have loved him who requites +me thus—to have mercy on my soul. I forgive him +his wrong, and may God give honour and life to him +who has betrayed and delivered me to death. Since +it comes from his hand, death, meseems, is no bitter +potion; and when I remember his love, to die for his +sake is no grievous thing."</p> + +<p>When the chatelaine had thus spoken she kept silence, +save only that she said in sighing,</p> + +<p>"Sweet friend, I commend you to God."</p> + +<p>With these words she strained her arms tightly across +her breast, the heart failed her, and her face lost its fair +colour. She swooned in her anguish, and lay back, pale +and discoloured in the middle of the bed, without life or +breath.</p> + +<p>Of this her friend knew nothing, for he sought his +delight in the hall, at carol and dance and play. But +amongst all those ladies he had no pleasure in any that +he saw, since he might not perceive her to whom his +heart was given, and much he marvelled thereat. He +took the Duke apart, and said in his ear,</p> + +<p>"Sire, whence is this that your niece tarries so long, and +comes not to the dancing? Have you put her in prison?"</p> + +<p>The Duke looked upon the dancers, for he had not +concerned himself with the revels. He took his friend +by the hand, and led him directly to his wife's chamber. +When he might not find her there he bade the knight +seek her boldly in the tiring chamber; and this he did +of his courtesy that these two lovers might solace +themselves with clasp and kiss. The knight thanked his +lord sweetly, and entered softly in the chamber, where +his friend lay dark and discoloured upon the bed. Time +and place being met together, he took her in his arms +and touched her lips. But when he found how cold was +her mouth, how pale and rigid her person, he knew by +the semblance of all her body that she was quite dead. +In his amazement he cried out swiftly,</p> + +<p>"What is this? Alas, is my dear one dead?"</p> + +<p>The maiden started from the foot of the bed where +she still lay, making answer,</p> + +<p>"Sir, I deem truly that she be dead. Since she came +to this room she has done nothing but call upon death, +by reason of her friend's falsehood, whereof my lady +assured her, and because of a little dog, whereof my +lady made her jest. This sorrow brought her to her +death."</p> + +<p>When the knight understood from this that the words +he had spoken to the Duke had slain his friend, he was +discomforted beyond measure.</p> + +<p>"Alas," said he, "sweet love, the most gracious and +the best that ever knight had, loyal and true, how have +I slain you, like the faithless traitor that I am! It +were only just that I should receive the wages for my +deed, so that you could have gone free of blame. But +you were so faithful of heart that you took it on yourself +to pay the price. Then I will do justice on myself for +the treason I have wrought."</p> + +<p>The knight drew from its sheath a sword that was +hanging from the wall, and thrust it throught his heart. +He pained himself to fall upon his lady's body; and +because of the mightiness of his hurt, bled swiftly to +death. The maiden fled forth from the chamber, when +she marked these lifeless lovers, for she was all adread +at what she saw. She lighted on the Duke, and told +him all that she had heard and seen, keeping back +nothing. She showed him the beginning of the matter, +and also of the little dog, whereof the Duchess had +spoken.</p> + +<p>Hearken all to what befell. The Duke went straightway +to the tiring chamber, and drew from out the wound +that sword by which the knight lay slain. He said no +word, but hastened forthwith to the hall where the guests +were yet at their dancing. Entering there he acquitted +himself of his promise, for he smote the Duchess on +the head with the naked sword he carried in his hand. He +struck the blow without one word, since his wrath was +too deep for speech. The Duchess fell at his feet, in +the sight of the barons of his realm, whereat the feast +was sorely troubled, for in place of mirth and carol, now +were blood and death. Then the Duke told loudly +and swiftly, before all who cared to hear, this pitiful +story, in the midst of his Court. There was not one +but wept, and his tears were the more piteous when he +beheld those two lovers who lay dead in the chamber, +and the Duchess in her hall. So the Court broke up in +dole and anger, for of this deed came mighty mischief. +On the morrow the Duke caused the lovers to be laid +in one tomb, and the Duchess in a place apart. But +of this adventure the Duke had such bitterness that never +was he known to laugh again. He took the Cross, +and went beyond the sea, where joining himself to +the Knights Templar, he never returned to his own +realm.</p> + +<p>Ah, God! all this mischief and encumbrance chanced +to the knight by reason of his making plain that he +should have hid, and of publishing what his friend +forbade him to speak, if he would keep her love. From +this ensample we may learn that it is not seemly to love, +and tell. He who blabs and blazons his friendship gets +not one kiss the more; but he who goes discreetly +preserves life and love and fame. For the friendship +of the discreet lover falls not before the mine of such +false and felon pryers as burrow privily into their +neighbour's secret love.</p> +<br> + +<p>PRINTED BY</p> + +<p>THE TEMPLE PRESS AT LETCHWORTH IN GREAT BRITAIN</p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of French Mediaeval Romances from the +Lays of Marie de France, by Marie de France + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FRENCH MEDIAEVAL ROMANCES *** + +***** This file should be named 11417-h.htm or 11417-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/1/4/1/11417/ + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Bradley Norton and PG Distributed +Proofreaders + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: French Mediaeval Romances from the Lays of Marie de France + +Author: Marie de France + +Release Date: March 3, 2004 [EBook #11417] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FRENCH MEDIAEVAL ROMANCES *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Bradley Norton and PG Distributed +Proofreaders + + + + + +FRENCH MEDIAEVAL ROMANCES + +_From the Lays of Marie de France_ + +_Translated by Eugene Mason_. + + + +1911 + + + +INTRODUCTION + + +The tales included in this little book of translations are derived +mainly from the "Lays" of Marie de France. I do not profess them to be +a complete collection of her stories in verse. The ascription varies. +Poems which were included in her work but yesterday are withdrawn +to-day, and new matter suggested by scholars to take the place of the +old. I believe it to be, however, a far fuller version of Marie's +"Lays" than has yet appeared, to my knowledge, in English. Marie's +poems are concerned chiefly with love. To complete my book I have +added two famous mediaeval stories on the same excellent theme. +This, then, may be regarded as a volume of French romances, dealing, +generally, with one aspect of mediaeval life. + +An age so feminist in its sympathies as ours should be attracted the +more easily to Marie de France, because she was both an artist and a +woman. To deliver oneself through any medium is always difficult. For +a woman of the Middle Ages to express herself publicly by any means +whatever was almost impossible. A great lady, a great Saint or +church-woman, might do so very occasionally. But the individuality +of the ordinary wife was merged in that of her husband, and for one +Abbess of Shrewsbury or Whitby, for one St. Clare or St. Hilda, there +were how many thousand obscure sisters, who were buried in the daily +routine of a life hidden with Christ in God! Doubtless the artistic +temperament burst out now and again in woman, and would take no +denial. It blew where it listed, appearing in the most unexpected +places. A young nun in a Saxon convent, for instance, would write +little dramas in Latin for the amusement and edification of the noble +maidens under her charge. These comedies, written in the days of the +Emperor Otho, can be read with pleasure in the reign of King George, +by those who find fragrant the perfumes of the past. They deal with +the pious legends of the Saints, and are regarded with wistful +admiration by the most modern of Parisian playwrights. In their +combination of audacity and simplicity they could only be performed by +Saxon religious in the times of Otho, or by marionettes in the more +self-conscious life of to-day. Or, again, an Abbess, the protagonist +of one of the great love stories of the world, by sheer force of +personality, would compose letters to one--how immeasurably her moral +inferior, in spite of his genius--expressing with an unexampled +poignancy the most passionate emotions of the heart. Or, to take my +third illustration, here are a woman's poems written in an age when +literature was almost entirely in the hands of men. Consider the +strength of character which alone induced these three ladies to stray +from the beaten paths of their sex. To the average woman it was +enough to be an object of art herself, or to be the inspiration of +masterpieces by man. But these three women of the Middle Ages--and +such as they--shunned the easier way, and, in their several spheres, +were by deliberate effort, self-conscious artists. + +The place and date of birth of Marie de France are unknown--indeed +the very century in which she lived has been a matter of dispute. Her +poems are written in the French of northern France; but that does not +prove her necessarily to be a Frenchwoman. French was the tongue +of the English Court, and many Englishmen have written in the same +language. Indeed, it is a very excellent vehicle for expression. +Occasionally, Marie would insert English words in her French text, the +better to convey her meaning; but it does not follow therefrom that +the romances were composed in England. It seems strange that so +few positive indications of her race and home are given in her +poems--nothing is contained beyond her Christian name and the bare +statement that she was of France. She took great pride in her work, +which she wrought to the best of her ability, and was extremely +jealous of that bubble-reputation. Yet whilst this work was an +excellent piece of self-portraiture, it reveals not one single fact +or date on which to go. A consensus of critical opinion presumes that +Marie was a subject of the English Crown, born in an ancient town +called Pitre, some three miles above Rouen, in the Duchy of Normandy. +This speculation is based largely on the unwonted topographical +accuracy of her description of Pitre, given in "The Lay of the Two +Lovers." Such evidence, perhaps, is insufficient to obtain a judgment +in a Court of Law. The date when Marie lived was long a matter of +dispute. The Prologue to her "Lays" contains a dedication to some +unnamed King; whilst her "Fables" is dedicated to a certain Count +William. These facts prove her to have been a person of position and +repute. The King was long supposed to be Henry the Third of England, +and this would suggest that she lived in the thirteenth century. +An early scholar, the Abbe de La Rue, in fact, said that this was +"undoubtedly" the case, giving cogent reasons in support of his +contention. But modern scholarship, in the person of Gaston Paris, +has decided that the King was Henry the Second, of pious memory; the +Count, William Longsword, Earl of Salisbury, his natural son by Fair +Rosamund; and that Marie must be placed in the second half of the +twelfth century. This shows that scholarship is not an exact science, +and that such words as "doubtless" should not be employed more than +necessary. A certain Eastern philosopher, when engaged in instructing +the youth of his country, used always to conclude his lectures with +the unvarying formula, "But, gentlemen, all that I have told you is +probably wrong." This sage was a wise man (not always the same thing), +and his example should be had in remembrance. It seems possible (and +one hesitates to use a stronger word) that the "Lays" of Marie were +actually written at the Court of Henry of England. From political +ambition the King was married to Eleanor of Aquitaine, a lady of +literary tastes, who came from a family in which the patronage of +singers was a tradition. Her husband, too, had a pronounced liking for +literature. He was fond of books, and once paid a visit to Glastonbury +to visit King Arthur's tomb. These, perhaps, are limited virtues, but +Henry the Second had need of every rag. It is somewhat difficult to +recognise in that King of the Prologue, "in whose heart all gracious +things are rooted," the actual King who murdered Becket; who turned +over picture-books at Mass, and never confessed or communicated. It is +yet more difficult to perceive "joy as his handmaid" who, because of +the loss of a favourite city, threatened to revenge himself on God, by +robbing Him of that thing--_i.e._, the soul--He desired most in him; +and whose very last words were an echo of Job's curse upon the day +that he was born. Marie's phrases may be regarded, perhaps, as a +courtly flourish, rather than as conveying truth with mathematical +precision. If not, we should be driven to suggest an alternative to +the favourite simile of lying like an epitaph. But I think it unlikely +that Marie suffered with a morbidly sensitive conscience. There is +little enough real devotion to be met with in her "Lays"; and if +her last book--a translation from the Latin of the Purgatory of St. +Patrick--is on a subject she avoids in her earlier work, it was +written under the influence of some high prelate, and may be regarded +as a sign that she watched the shadows cast by the western sun +lengthening on the grass. + +Gaston Paris suggests 1175 as an approximate date for the composition +of the "Lays" of Marie de France. Their success was immediate and +unequivocal, as indeed was to be expected in the case of a lady +situated so fortunately at Court. We have proof of this in the +testimony of Denis Pyramus, the author who wrote a Life of St. Edmund +the King, early in the following century. He says, in that poem, "And +also Dame Marie, who turned into rhyme and made verses of 'Lays' which +are not in the least true. For these she is much praised, and her +rhyme is loved everywhere; for counts, barons, and knights greatly +admire it, and hold it dear. And they love her writing so much, and +take such pleasure in it, that they have it read, and often copied. +These Lays are wont to please ladies, who listen to them with delight, +for they are after their own hearts." It is no wonder that the lords +and ladies of her century were so enthralled by Marie's romances, for +her success was thoroughly well deserved. Even after seven hundred +years her colours remain surprisingly vivid, and if the tapestry is +now a little worn and faded in places, we still follow with interest +the movements of the figures wrought so graciously upon the arras. Of +course her stories are not original; but was any plot original at +any period of the earth's history? This is not only an old, but an +iterative world. The source of Marie's inspiration is perfectly clear, +for she states it emphatically in quite a number of her Lays. This +adventure chanced in Brittany, and in remembrance thereof the Bretons +made a Lay, which I heard sung by the minstrel to the music of his +rote. Marie's part consisted in reshaping this ancient material in her +own rhythmic and coloured words. Scholars tell us that the essence of +her stories is of Celtic rather than of Breton origin. It may be so; +though to the lay mind this is not a matter of great importance one +way or the other; but it seems better to accept a person's definite +statement until it is proved to be false. The Breton or Celtic +imagination had peculiar qualities of dreaminess, and magic and +mystery. Marie's mind was not cast in a precisely similar mould. +Occasionally she is successful enough; but generally she gives the +effect of building with a substance the significance of which she does +not completely realise. She may be likened to a child playing with +symbols which, in the hand of the enchanter, would be of tremendous +import. Her treatment of Isoude, for example, in "The Lay of the +Honeysuckle," is quite perfect in tone, and, indeed, is a little +masterpiece in its own fashion. But her sketch of Guenevere in "The +Lay of Sir Launfal" is of a character that one does not recall with +pleasure. To see how Arthur's Queen might be treated, we have but +to turn to the pages of a contemporary, and learn from Chrestien de +Troyes' "Knight of the Cart," how an even more considerable poet +than Marie could deal with a Celtic legend. The fact is that Marie's +romances derive farther back than any Breton or Celtic dream. They +were so old that they had blown like thistledown about the four +quarters of the world. Her princesses came really neither from Wales +nor Brittany. They were of that stuff from which romance is shaped. +"Her face was bright as the day of union; her hair dark as the night +of separation; and her mouth was magical as Solomon's seal." You can +parallel her "Lays" from folklore, from classical story and antiquity. +Father and son fight together unwittingly in "The Lay of Milon"; +but Rustum had striven with Sohrab long before in far Persia, and +Cuchulain with his child in Ireland. Such stories are common property. +The writer takes his own where he finds it. Marie is none the less +admirable because her stories were narrated by the first man in Eden; +neither are Boccaccio and the Countess D'Aulnoy blameworthy since they +told again what she already had related so well. Marie, indeed, was an +admirable narrator. That was one of her shining virtues. As a piece of +artful tale telling, a specimen of the craft of keeping a situation in +suspense, the arrival of the lady before Arthur's Court, in "The Lay +of Sir Launfal," requires a deal of beating. The justness and fineness +of her sentiment in all that concerns the delicacies of the human +heart are also remarkable. But her true business was that of the +storyteller. In that trade she was almost unapproachable in her day. +There may have been--indeed, there was--a more considerable poet +living; but a more excellent writer of romances, than the author of +"Eliduc," it would have been difficult to find. + +The ladies who found the "Lays" of Marie after their own hearts +were not only admirers of beautiful stories; they had the delicate +privilege also of admiring themselves in their habit as they +lived--perhaps even lovelier than in reality--amidst their accustomed +surroundings. The pleasure of a modern reader in such tales as these +is enhanced by the light they throw on the household arrangements and +customs of the gentlefolk of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. It +may be of interest to consider some of these domestic arrangements, as +illustrated by stories included in the present volume. + +The corporate life of a mediaeval household centered in the hall. It +was office and dining and billiard room, and was common to gentle and +simple alike. The hall was by far the largest room in the house. It +was lighted by windows, and warmed by an open fire of logs. The smoke +drifted about the roof, escaping finally by the simple means of a +lantern placed immediately above the hearth. A beaten floor was +covered by rushes and fresh hay, or with rugs in that part affected by +the more important members of the household. The lord himself and his +wife sat in chairs upon a raised dais. The retainers were seated +on benches around the wall, and before them was spread the dining +table--a mere board upon trestles--which was removed when once the +meal was done. After supper, chess and draughts were played, or (as +we may see in "The Lay of the Thorn") minstrels sang ballads and the +guest contributed to the general entertainment by the recital of such +jests and adventures as commended themselves to his taste. If the hall +may be considered as the dining room of the mediaeval home, the garden +might almost be looked upon as the drawing room. You would probably +get more real privacy in the garden than in any other part of the +crowded castle, including the lady's chamber. It is no wonder that +we read of Guenevere taking Launfal aside for a little private +conversation in her pleasaunce. It was not only the most private, +but also the most delightful room in the house--ceiled with blue and +carpeted with green. The garden was laid out elaborately with a perron +and many raised seats. Trees stood about the lawn in tubs, and there +was generally a fountain playing in the centre, or possibly a pond, +stocked with fish. Fruit trees and flower beds grew thickly about the +garden, and a pleasanter place of perfume and colour and shade it +would be difficult to imagine in the summer heat. The third room of +which we hear continually in these romances is the lady's chamber. It +served the purpose of a boudoir as well as that of a sleeping room, +and consequently had little real privacy. It contained the marriage +chest with its store of linen, and also the bed. This bed recurs +eternally in mediaeval tales. It was used as a seat during the day, and +as a resting-place of nights. It was a magnificent erection, carved +and gilded, and inlaid with ivory. Upon it was placed a mattress of +feathers, and a soft pillow. The sheets were of linen or silk, and +over all was spread a coverlet of some precious material. An excellent +description of such a couch is given in "The Lay of Gugemar." This +chamber served also as a bath room, and there the bath was taken, +piping hot, in the strange vessel, fashioned somewhat like a churn, +that we see in pictures of the Middle Ages. + +Of the dress of the ladies who moved about the castle, seeing +themselves reflected from Marie's pages as in a polished mirror, I +am not competent to speak. The type of beauty preferred by the old +romancers was that of a child's princess of fairy tale--blue-eyed, +golden-haired, and ruddy of cheek. The lady would wear a shift of +linen, "white as meadow flower." Over this was worn a garment of fur +or silk, according to the season; and, above all, a vividly coloured +gown, all in one line from neck to feet, shapen closely to the figure, +or else the more loosely fitting bliaut. Her girdle clipped her +closely about the waist, falling to the hem of her skirt, and her feet +were shod in soundless shoes, without heels. The hair was arranged in +two long braids, brought forward over her shoulders; as worn by those +smiling Queens wrought upon the western porch of Chartres Cathedral. +Out of doors, and, indeed, frequently within, as may be proved by a +reference to "The Lay of the Ash Tree," the lady was clad in a mantle +and a hood. It must have taken a great deal of time and travail to +appear so dainty a production. But to become poetry for others, it is +necessary for a woman first to be prose to herself. + +I am afraid the raw material of this radiant divinity had much to +endure before she suffered her sea change. In mediaeval illustrations +we see the maiden sitting demurely in company, with downcast eyes, and +hands folded modestly in her lap. This unnatural restraint was induced +by the lavish compulsion of the rod. If there was one text, above all +others, approved and acted upon by fathers and mothers of the Middle +Ages, it was that exhorting parents not to cocker their child, neither +to wink at his follies, but to beat him on the sides with a stick. +Turn to "The Lay of the Thorn," and mark the gusto with which a mother +disciplines her maid. Parents trained their children with blows. +Husbands (ah, the audacity of the mediaeval husband) scattered the +like seeds of kindness on their wives. In a book written for the +edification of his unmarried daughters, Chaucer's contemporary, the +Knight of La Tour Landry, tells the following interesting anecdote. +A man had a scolding wife, who railed ungovernably upon him before +strangers, "and he that was angry of her governance smote her with his +first down to the earth; and then with his foot he struck her on the +visage, and broke her nose; and all her life after that she had her +nose crooked, the which shent and disfigured her visage after, that +she might not for shame show her visage, it was so foul blemished. And +this she had for her evil and great language that she was wont to say +to her husband. And therefore the wife ought to suffer, and let the +husband have the words, and to be master." May I give yet another +illustration before we pass from the subject. This time it is taken +not from a French knight, but from a sermon of the great Italian +preacher, St. Bernardino of Siena. "There are men who can bear more +patiently with a hen that lays a fresh egg every day than with their +own wives; and sometimes when the hen breaks a pipkin or a cup he +will spare it a beating, simply for love of the fresh egg which he +is unwilling to lose. Oh, raving madmen! who cannot bear a word from +their own wives, though they bear them such fair fruit; but when the +woman speaks a word more than they like, then they catch up a stick, +and begin to cudgel her; while the hen that cackles all day, and gives +you no rest, you take patience with her for the sake of her miserable +egg--and sometimes she will break more in your house than she herself +is worth, yet you bear it in patience for the egg's sake. Many +fidgetty fellows, who sometimes see their wives turn out less neat and +dainty than they would like, smite them forthwith; and meanwhile the +hen may make a mess on the table, and you suffer her. Have patience; +it is not right to beat your wife for every cause, no!" + +At the commencement of this Introduction I stated that Marie's +romances are concerned mainly with love. Her talent was not very +wide nor rich, and I have no doubt that there were facets of her +personality which she was unable to get upon paper. The prettiest +girl in the world can only give what she has to give. By the time any +reader reaches the end of this volume he will be assured that the +stories are stories of love. Probably he will have noticed also that, +in many cases, the lady who inspires the most delicate of sentiments +is, incidentally, a married woman. He may ask why this was so; and in +answer I propose to conclude my paper with a few observations upon the +subject of mediaeval love. + +I doubt in my own mind whether romance writers do not exaggerate what +was certainly a characteristic of the Middle Ages. To be ordinary +is to be uninteresting; and it is obvious that the stranger the +experience, the more likely is it to attract the interest and +attention of the hearer. Blessed is the person--as well as the +country--who has no history. But it was really very difficult for +the twelfth century poet to write a love story, with a maiden as the +central figure. The noble maiden seldom had a love story. It is +true enough that she was sometimes referred to in the choice of her +husband: two young ladies in "A Story of Beyond the Sea" are both +consulted in the matter. As a rule, however, her inclination was not +permitted to stand in the way of the interests of her parents or +guardians. She was betrothed in childhood, and married very young, for +mercenary or political reasons, to a husband much older than herself. +We read of a girl of twelve being married to a man of fifty. There was +no great opportunity for a love story here; and the strange entreaty, +on the part of the nameless French poet, to love the maidens for the +sake of Christ's love, passed over the heads of the romance writers. +Not that the mediaeval maidens showed any shrinking from matrimony. +"Fair daughter, I have given you a husband." "Blessed be God," said +the damsel. There spoke a contented spirit. Things have changed, and +we can but sigh after the good old times. + +But the maiden inevitably became the wife, and the whirligig of Time +brought in his revenges. The lady now found herself the most important +member of her sex, in a dwelling filled with men. She had few women +about her person, and the confidant of a great dame in old romance is, +frequently enough, her chamberlain. These young men had no chance of +marriage, and naturally strove to gain the attention of a lady, whose +favour was to them so important a matter. A mediaeval knight was the +sworn champion of God and the ladies--but more especially the latter. +The chatelaine, herself, found time hang heavily on her hands. +Amusements were few; books limited in number; a husband not of +absorbing interest; so she turned to such distractions as presented +themselves. The prettier a lady, the sweeter the incense and flattery +swung beneath her nose; for this was one of the disadvantages of +marrying an attractive woman. "It is hard to keep a wife whom everyone +admires; and if no one admires her it is hard to have to live with her +yourself." One of these distractions took the shape of Courts of Love, +where the bored but literary chatelaine discussed delicate problems of +conduct pertaining to the heart. The minstrel about the lady's castle, +for his part, sought her favourable notice not only by his songs but +also by giving an object lesson of his melancholy condition. One would +imagine that his proceedings were not always calculated to further +their purpose. A famous singer, for instance, in honour of a lady who +was named Lupa, caused himself to be sewn in a wolf's skin, and ran +before the hounds till he was pulled down, half dead. Another great +minstrel and lover bought a leper's gown and bowl and clapper from +some afflicted wretch. He mutilated his forefinger, and sat before his +lady's door, in the company of a piteous crowd of sick and maimed, to +await her alms. No doubt he trusted that his devotion would procure +him a different kind of charity. From such discussions as these, and +from conduct such as this, a type of love came into being which was +peculiar to the period. Since the lovers were not bound in the sweet +and common union of children and home, since on the side of the lady +all was of grace and nought of debt, they searched out other bands to +unite them together. These they found in a system of devotion, silence +and faithfulness, which added a dignity to their relations. These +virtues they took so seriously that we find the Chatelaine of Vergi +dying because she believed her lover to have betrayed her trust. The +mediaeval romancer contemplated such unions with joy and pity; but +for all their virtues we must not deceive ourselves with words. Such +honour was rooted in dishonour, and the measure of their guilt was +that they debased the moral currency. Presently the greatest of all +the poets of the Middle Ages would arise, to teach a different fashion +of devotion. His was a love that sought no communion with its object, +neither speech nor embrace. It was sufficient for Dante to contemplate +Beatrice from afar, as one might kneel before the picture of a saint. +I do not say that a love like this--so spiritual and so aloof--will +ever be possible to men. It did not suffice even to Dante, for all +his tremendous moral muscle. Human love must always and inevitably be +founded on a physical basis. But the burning drop of idealism that +Dante contributed to the passion of the Middle Ages has made possible +the love of which we now and again catch a glimpse in the union of +select natures. And that the seed of such flowering may be carried +about the world is one of the fairest hopes and possibilities of the +human race. + +EUGENE MASON. + +The originals of these narratives are to be found in Roquefort's +edition of the Poesies de Marie de France; in a volume of the +Nouvelles Francoises en Prose, edited by Moland and D'Hericault; and +in M. Gaston Raynaud's text of La Chatelaine de Vergi. + + + + +CONTENTS + + +INTRODUCTION + +I. PROLOGUE BY WAY OF DEDICATION + +II. THE LAY OF GUGEMAR + +III. THE LAY OF THE DOLOROUS KNIGHT + +IV. THE LAY OF ELIDUC + +V. THE LAY OF THE NIGHTINGALE + +VI. THE LAY OF SIR LAUNFAL + +VII. THE LAY OF THE TWO LOVERS + +VIII. THE LAY OF THE WERE-WOLF + +IX. THE LAY OF THE ASH TREE + +X. THE LAY OF THE HONEYSUCKLE + +XI. THE LAY OF EQUITAN + +XII. THE LAY OF MILON + +XIII. THE LAY OF YONEC + +XIV. THE LAY OF THE THORN + +XV. THE LAY OF GRAELENT + +XVI. A STORY OF BEYOND THE SEA + +XVII. THE CHATELAINE OF VERGI + + + + + +I + + +PROLOGUE + +BY WAY OF DEDICATION + +Those to whom God has given the gift of comely speech, should not hide +their light beneath a bushel, but should willingly show it abroad. If +a great truth is proclaimed in the ears of men, it brings forth fruit +a hundred-fold; but when the sweetness of the telling is praised of +many, flowers mingle with the fruit upon the branch. + +According to the witness of Priscian, it was the custom of ancient +writers to express obscurely some portions of their books, so that +those who came after might study with greater diligence to find the +thought within their words. The philosophers knew this well, and were +the more unwearied in labour, the more subtle in distinctions, so that +the truth might make them free. They were persuaded that he who would +keep himself unspotted from the world should search for knowledge, +that he might understand. To set evil from me, and to put away my +grief, I purposed to commence a book. I considered within myself +what fair story in the Latin or Romance I could turn into the common +tongue. But I found that all the stories had been written, and +scarcely it seemed the worth my doing, what so many had already done. +Then I called to mind those Lays I had so often heard. I doubted +nothing--for well I know--that our fathers fashioned them, that men +should bear in remembrance the deeds of those who have gone before. +Many a one, on many a day, the minstrel has chanted to my ear. I would +not that they should perish, forgotten, by the roadside. In my turn, +therefore, I have made of them a song, rhymed as well as I am able, +and often has their shaping kept me sleepless in my bed. + +In your honour, most noble and courteous King, to whom joy is a +handmaid, and in whose heart all gracious things are rooted, I have +brought together these Lays, and told my tales in seemly rhyme. Ere +they speak for me, let me speak with my own mouth, and say, "Sire, I +offer you these verses. If you are pleased to receive them, the fairer +happiness will be mine, and the more lightly I shall go all the days +of my life. Do not deem that I think more highly of myself than I +ought to think, since I presume to proffer this, my gift." Hearken now +to the commencement of the matter. + + + + +II + + +THE LAY OF GUGEMAR + +Hearken, oh gentles, to the words of Marie. When the minstrel tells +his tale, let the folk about the fire heed him willingly. For his part +the singer must be wary not to spoil good music with unseemly words. +Listen, oh lordlings, to the words of Marie, for she pains herself +grievously not to forget this thing. The craft is hard--then approve +the more sweetly him who carols the tune. But this is the way of the +world, that when a man or woman sings more tunably than his fellows, +those about the fire fall upon him, pell-mell, for reason of their +envy. They rehearse diligently the faults of his song, and steal away +his praise with evil words. I will brand these folk as they deserve. +They, and such as they, are like mad dogs--cowardly and felon--who +traitorously bring to death men better than themselves. Now let the +japer, and the smiler with his knife, do me what harm they may. Verily +they are in their right to speak ill of me. + +Hearken, oh gentles, to the tale I set before you, for thereof the +Bretons already have made a Lay. I will not do it harm by many words, +and here is the commencement of the matter. According to text and +scripture, now I relate a certain adventure, which bechanced in the +realm of Brittany, in days long gone before. + +In that time when Arthur maintained his realm, the now in peace, the +now in war, the King counted amongst his vassals a certain baron, +named Oridial. This knight was lord of Leon, and was very near to his +prince's heart, both in council chamber and in field. From his wife he +had gotten two children, the one a son and the other a fair daughter. +Nogent, he had called the damsel at the font, and the dansellon was +named Gugemar--no goodlier might be found in any realm. His mother had +set all her love upon the lad, and his father shewed him every good +that he was able. When the varlet was no more a child, Oridial sent +him to the King, to be trained as a page in the courtesies of the +Court. Right serviceable was he in his station, and meetly praised +of all. The term of his service having come, and he being found of +fitting years and knowledge, the King made him knight with his own +hand, and armed him in rich harness, according to his wish. So Gugemar +gave gifts to all those about his person, and bidding farewell, took +leave, and departed from the Court. Gugemar went his way to Flanders, +being desirous of advancement, for in that kingdom ever they have +strife and war. Neither in Loraine nor Burgundy, Anjou nor Gascony, +might be found in that day a better knight than he, no, nor one his +peer. He had but one fault, since of love he took no care. There was +neither dame nor maiden beneath the sky, however dainty and kind, to +whom he gave thought or heed, though had he required her love of any +damsel, very willingly would she have granted his desire. Many there +were who prayed him for his love, but might have no kiss in return. So +seeing that he refrained his heart in this fashion, men deemed him a +strange man, and one fallen into a perilous case. + +In the flower of his deeds the good knight returned to his own land, +that he might see again his father and lord, his mother and his +sister, even as he very tenderly desired. He lodged with them for the +space of a long month, and at the end of that time had envy to hunt +within the wood. The night being come, Gugemar summoned his prickers +and his squires, and early in the morning rode within the forest. +Great pleasure had Gugemar in the woodland, and much he delighted in +the chase. A tall stag was presently started, and the hounds being +uncoupled, all hastened in pursuit--the huntsmen before, and the good +knight following after, winding upon his horn. Gugemar rode at a great +pace after the quarry, a varlet riding beside, bearing his bow, his +arrows and his spear. He followed so hotly that he over-passed the +chase. Gazing about him he marked, within a thicket, a doe hiding with +her fawn. Very white and wonderful was this beast, for she was without +spot, and bore antlers upon her head. The hounds bayed about her, but +might not pull her down. Gugemar bent his bow, and loosed a shaft +at the quarry. He wounded the deer a little above the hoof, so that +presently she fell upon her side. But the arrow glanced away, and +returning upon itself, struck Gugemar in the thigh, so grievously, +that straightway he fell from his horse upon the ground. Gugemar lay +upon the grass, beside the deer which he had wounded to his hurt. He +heard her sighs and groans, and perceived the bitterness of her pity. +Then with mortal speech the doe spake to the wounded man in such +fashion as this, "Alas, my sorrow, for now am I slain. But thou, +Vassal, who hast done me this great wrong, do not think to hide from +the vengeance of thy destiny. Never may surgeon and his medicine heal +your hurt. Neither herb nor root nor potion can ever cure the wound +within your flesh: For that there is no healing. The only balm to +close that sore must be brought by a woman, who for her love will +suffer such pain and sorrow as no woman in the world has endured +before. And to the dolorous lady, dolorous knight. For your part you +shall do and suffer so great things for her, that not a lover beneath +the sun, or lovers who are dead, or lovers who yet shall have their +day, but shall marvel at the tale. Now, go from hence, and let me die +in peace." + +Gugemar was wounded twice over--by the arrow, and by the words he was +dismayed to hear. He considered within himself to what land he must go +to find this healing for his hurt, for he was yet too young to die. He +saw clearly, and told it to his heart, that there was no lady in his +life to whom he could run for pity, and be made whole of his wound. He +called his varlet before him, + +"Friend," said he, "go forthwith, and bring my comrades to this place, +for I have to speak with them." + +The varlet went upon his errand, leaving his master sick with the heat +and fever of his hurt. When he was gone, Gugemar tore the hem from his +shirt, and bound it straitly about his wound. He climbed painfully +upon the saddle, and departed without more ado, for he was with child +to be gone before any could come to stay him from his purpose. A green +path led through the deep forest to the plain, and his way across the +plain brought him to a cliff, exceeding high, and to the sea. Gugemar +looked upon the water, which was very still, for this fair harbourage +was land-locked from the main. Upon this harbour lay one only vessel, +bearing a rich pavilion of silk, daintily furnished both without and +within, and well it seemed to Gugemar that he had seen this ship +before. Beneath the sky was no ship so rich or precious, for there was +not a sail but was spun of silk, and not a plank, from keel to mast, +but showed of ebony. Too fair was the nave for mortal man, and Gugemar +held it in sore displeasure. He marvelled greatly from what country it +had come, and wondered long concerning this harbour, and the ship that +lay therein. Gugemar got him down from his horse upon the shore, and +with mighty pain and labour climbed within the ship. He trusted to +find merchantmen and sailors therein, but there was none to guard, and +none he saw. Now within the pavilion was a very rich bed, carved by +cunning workmen in the days of King Solomon. This fair bed was wrought +of cypress wood and white ivory, adorned with gold and gems most +precious. Right sweet were the linen cloths upon the bed, and so soft +the pillow, that he who lay thereon would sleep, were he sadder than +any other in the world. The counterpane was of purple from the vats +of Alexandria, and over all was set a right fair coverlet of cloth of +gold. The pavilion was litten by two great waxen torches, placed in +candlesticks of fine gold, decked with jewels worth a lord's ransom. +So the wounded knight looked on ship and pavilion, bed and candle, and +marvelled greatly. Gugemar sat him down upon the bed for a little, +because of the anguish of his wound. After he had rested a space he +got upon his feet, that he might quit the vessel, but he found that +for him there was no return. A gentle wind had filled the sails, and +already he was in the open sea. When Gugemar saw that he was far from +land, he was very heavy and sorrowful. He knew not what to do, by +reason of the mightiness of his hurt. But he must endure the adventure +as best he was able; so he prayed to God to take him in His keeping, +and in His good pleasure to bring him safe to port, and deliver him +from the peril of death. Then climbing upon the couch, he laid his +head upon the pillow, and slept as one dead, until, with vespers, the +ship drew to that haven where he might find the healing for his hurt. + +Gugemar had come to an ancient city, where the King of that realm held +his court and state. This King was full of years, and was wedded to +a dame of high degree. The lady was of tender age, passing fresh and +fair, and sweet of speech to all. Therefore was the King jealous of +his wife beyond all measure. Such is the wont of age, for much it +fears that old and young cannot mate together, and that youth will +turn to youth. This is the death in life of the old. + +The castle of this ancient lord had a mighty keep. Beneath this tower +was a right fair orchard, together with a close, shut in by a wall of +green marble, very strong and high. This wall had one only gate, and +the door was watched of warders, both night and day. On the other side +of this garden was the sea, so that none might do his errand in the +castle therefrom, save in a boat. To hold his dame in the greater +surety, the King had built a bower within the wall; there was no +fairer chamber beneath the sun. The first room was the Queen's chapel. +Beyond this was the lady's bedchamber, painted all over with shapes +and colours most wonderful to behold. On one wall might be seen Dame +Venus, the goddess of Love, sweetly flushed as when she walked the +water, lovely as life, teaching men how they should bear them in loyal +service to their lady. On another wall, the goddess threw Ovid's book +within a fire of coals. A scroll issuing from her lips proclaimed that +those who read therein, and strove to ease them of their pains, would +find from her neither service nor favour. In this chamber the lady was +put in ward, and with her a certain maiden to hold her company. This +damsel was her niece, since she was her sister's child, and there was +great love betwixt the twain. When the Queen walked within the garden, +or went abroad, this maiden was ever by her side, and came again with +her to the house. Save this damsel, neither man nor woman entered in +the bower, nor issued forth from out the wall. One only man possessed +the key of the postern, an aged priest, very white and frail. This +priest recited the service of God within the chapel, and served the +Queen's plate and cup when she ate meat at table. + +Now, on a day, the Queen had fallen asleep after meat, and on her +awaking would walk a little in the garden. She called her companion to +her, and the two went forth to be glad amongst the flowers. As they +looked across the sea they marked a ship drawing near the land, rising +and falling upon the waves. Very fearful was the Queen thereat, for +the vessel came to anchorage, though there was no helmsman to direct +her course. The dame's face became sanguine for dread, and she turned +her about to flee, because of her exceeding fear. Her maiden, who was +of more courage than she, stayed her mistress with many comforting +words. For her part she was very desirous to know what this thing +meant. She hastened to the shore, and laying aside her mantle, climbed +within this wondrous vessel. Thereon she found no living soul, save +only the knight sleeping fast within the pavilion. The damsel looked +long upon the knight, for pale he was as wax, and well she deemed +him dead. She returned forthwith to the Queen, and told her of this +marvel, and of the good knight who was slain. + +"Let us go together on the ship," replied the lady. "If he be dead we +may give him fitting burial, and the priest shall pray meetly for his +soul. Should he be yet alive perchance he will speak, and tell us of +his case." + +Without more tarrying the two damsels mounted on the ship, the lady +before, and her maiden following after. When the Queen entered in the +pavilion she stayed her feet before the bed, for joy and grief of what +she saw. She might not refrain her eyes from gazing on the knight, +for her heart was ravished with his beauty, and she sorrowed beyond +measure, because of his grievous hurt. To herself she said, "In a bad +hour cometh the goodly youth." She drew near the bed, and placing her +hand upon his breast, found that the flesh was warm, and that the +heart beat strongly in his side. Gugemar awoke at the touch, and +saluted the dame as sweetly as he was able, for well he knew that he +had come to a Christian land. The lady, full of thought, returned him +his salutation right courteously, though the tears were yet in her +eyes. Straightway she asked of him from what realm he came, and of +what people, and in what war he had taken his hurt. + +"Lady," answered Gugemar, "in no battle I received this wound. If it +pleases you to hear my tale I will tell you the truth, and in nothing +will I lie. I am a knight of Little Brittany. Yesterday I chased a +wonderful white deer within the forest. The shaft with which I struck +her to my hurt, returned again on me, and caused this wound upon my +thigh, which may never be searched, nor made whole. For this wondrous +Beast raised her plaint in a mortal tongue. She cursed me loudly, with +many evil words, swearing that never might this sore be healed, save +by one only damsel in the world, and her I know not where to find. +When I heard my luckless fate I left the wood with what speed I might, +and coming to a harbour, not far from thence, I lighted on this ship. +For my sins I climbed therein. Then without oars or helm this boat +ravished me from shore; so that I know not where I have come, nor what +is the name of this city. Fair lady, for God's love, counsel me of +your good grace, for I know not where to turn, nor how to govern the +ship." + +The lady made answer, "Fair sir, willingly shall I give you such good +counsel as I may. This realm and city are the appanage of my husband. +He is a right rich lord, of high lineage, but old and very full of +years. Also he is jealous beyond all measure; therefore it is that I +see you now. By reason of his jealousy he has shut me fast between +high walls, entered by one narrow door, with an ancient priest to keep +the key. May God requite him for his deed. Night and day I am guarded +in this prison, from whence I may never go forth, without the +knowledge of my lord. Here are my chamber and my chapel, and here I +live, with this, my maiden, to bear me company. If it pleases you to +dwell here for a little, till you may pass upon your way, right gladly +we shall receive you, and with a good heart we will tend your wound, +till you are healed." + +When Gugemar heard this speech he rejoiced greatly. He thanked the +lady with many sweet words, and consented to sojourn in her hall +awhile. He raised himself upon his couch, and by the courtesy of the +damsels left the ship. Leaning heavily upon the lady, at the end he +won to her maiden's chamber, where there was a fair bed covered with a +rich dossal of broidered silk, edged with fur. When he was entered in +this bed, the damsels came bearing clear water in basins of gold, for +the cleansing of his hurt. They stanched the blood with a towel of +fine linen, and bound the wound strictly, to his exceeding comfort. So +after the vesper meal was eaten, the lady departed to her own chamber, +leaving the knight in much ease and content. + +Now Gugemar set his love so fondly upon the lady that he forgot his +father's house. He thought no more of the anguish of his hurt, because +of another wound that was beneath his breast. He tossed and sighed in +his unrest, and prayed the maiden of his service to depart, so that +he might sleep a little. When the maid was gone, Gugemar considered +within himself whether he might seek the dame, to know whether her +heart was warmed by any ember of the flame that burned in his. He +turned it this way and that, and knew not what to do. This only was +clear, that if the lady refused to search his wound, death, for him, +was sure and speedy. + +"Alas," said he, "what shall I do! Shall I go to my lady, and pray her +pity on the wretch who has none to give him counsel? If she refuse +my prayer, because of her hardness and pride, I shall know there is +nought for me but to die in my sorrow, or, at least, to go heavily all +the days of my life." + +Then he sighed, and in his sighing lighted on a better purpose; for he +said within himself that doubtless he was born to suffer, and that +the best of him was tears. All the long night he spent in vigil and +groanings and watchfulness. To himself he told over her words and her +semblance. He remembered the eyes and the fair mouth of his lady, and +all the grace and the sweetness, which had struck like a knife at his +heart. Between his teeth he cried on her for pity, and for a little +more would have called her to his side. Ah, had he but known the fever +of the lady, and how terrible a lord to her was Love, how great had +been his joy and solace. His visage would have been the more sanguine, +which was now so pale of colour, because of the dolour that was his. +But if the knight was sick by reason of his love, the dame had small +cause to boast herself of health. The lady rose early from her bed, +since she might not sleep. She complained of her unrest, and of Love +who rode her so hardly. The maiden, who was of her company, saw +clearly enough that all her lady's thoughts were set upon the knight, +who, for his healing, sojourned in the chamber. She did not know +whether his thoughts were given again to the dame. When, therefore, +the lady had entered in the chapel, the damsel went straightway to the +knight. He welcomed her gladly, and bade her be seated near the bed. +Then he inquired, "Friend, where now is my lady, and why did she rise +so early from her bed?" + +Having spoken so far, he became silent, and sighed. + +"Sir," replied the maiden softly, "you love, and are discreet, but be +not too discreet therein. In such a love as yours there is nothing to +be ashamed. He who may win my lady's favour has every reason to be +proud of his fortune. Altogether seemly would be your friendship, for +you are young, and she is fair." + +The knight made answer to the maiden, "I am so fast in the snare, that +I pray the fowler to slay me, if she may not free me from the net. +Counsel me, fair sweet friend, if I may hope of kindness at her hand." + +Then the maiden of her sweetness comforted the knight, and assured him +of all the good that she was able. So courteous and debonair was the +maid. + +When the lady had heard Mass, she hastened back to the chamber. She +had not forgotten her friend, and greatly she desired to know whether +he was awake or asleep, of whom her heart was fain. She bade her +maiden to summon him to her chamber, for she had a certain thing in +her heart to show him at leisure, were it for the joy or the sorrow of +their days. + +Gugemar saluted the lady, and the dame returned the knight his +courtesy, but their hearts were too fearful for speech. The knight +dared ask nothing of his lady, for reason that he was a stranger in a +strange land, and was adread to show her his love. But--as says the +proverb--he who will not tell of his sore, may not hope for balm to +his hurt. Love is a privy wound within the heart, and none knoweth of +that bitterness but the heart alone. Love is an evil which may last +for a whole life long, because of man and his constant heart. Many +there be who make of Love a gibe and a jest, and with specious words +defame him by boastful tales. But theirs is not love. Rather it is +folly and lightness, and the tune of a merry song. But let him who +has found a constant lover prize her above rubies, and serve her with +loyal service, being altogether at her will. Gugemar loved in this +fashion, and therefore Love came swiftly to his aid. Love put words in +his mouth, and courage in his heart, so that his hope might be made +plain. + +"Lady," said he, "I die for your love. I am in fever because of my +wound, and if you care not to heal my hurt I would rather die. Fair +friend, I pray you for grace. Do not gainsay me with evil words." + +The lady hearkened with a smile to Gugemar's speech. Right daintily +and sweetly she replied, "Friend, yea is not a word of two letters. I +do not grant such a prayer every day of the week, and must you have +your gift so quickly?" + +"Lady," cried he, "for God's sake pity me, and take it not amiss. She, +who loves lightly, may make her lover pray for long, so that she may +hide how often her feet have trodden the pathway with another friend. +But the honest dame, when she has once given her heart to a friend, +will not deny his wish because of pride. The rather she will find her +pride in humbleness, and love him again with the same love he has +set on her. So they will be glad together, and since none will have +knowledge or hearing of the matter, they will rejoice in their youth. +Fair, sweet lady, be this thy pleasure?" + +When the lady heard these words well she found them honest and true. +Therefore without further prayings and ado she granted Gugemar her +love and her kiss. Henceforward Gugemar lived greatly at his ease, for +he had sight and speech of his friend, and many a time she granted him +her embrace and tenderness, as is the wont of lovers when alone. + +For a year and a half Gugemar dwelt with his lady, in solace and great +delight. Then Fortune turned her wheel, and in a trice cast those +down, whose seat had been so high. Thus it chanced to them, for they +were spied upon and seen. + +On a morning in summer time the Queen and the damoiseau sat fondly +together. The knight embraced her, eyes and face, but the lady stayed +him, saying, "Fair sweet friend, my heart tells me that I shall lose +you soon, for this hidden thing will quickly be made clear. If you are +slain, may the same sword kill me. But if you win forth, well I know +that you will find another love, and that I shall be left alone with +my thoughts. Were I parted from you, may God give me neither joy, nor +rest, nor peace, if I would seek another friend. Of that you need have +no fear. Friend, for surety and comfort of my heart deliver me now +some sark of thine. Therein I will set a knot, and make this covenant +with you, that never will you put your love on dame or maiden, save +only on her who shall first unfasten this knot. Then you will ever +keep faith with me, for so cunning shall be my craft, that no woman +may hope to unravel that coil, either by force or guile, or even with +her knife." + +So the knight rendered the sark to his lady, and made such bargain as +she wished, for the peace and assurance of her mind. + +For his part the knight took a fair girdle, and girt it closely about +the lady's middle. Right secret was the clasp and buckle of this +girdle. Therefore he required of the dame that she would never grant +her love, save to him only, who might free her from the strictness of +this bond, without injury to band or clasp. Then they kissed together, +and entered into such covenant as you have heard. + +That very day their hidden love was made plain to men. A certain +chamberlain was sent by that ancient lord with a message to the Queen. +This unlucky wretch, finding that in no wise could he enter within the +chamber, looked through the window, and saw. Forthwith he hastened +to the King, and told him that which he had seen. When the aged lord +understood these words, never was there a sadder man than he. He +called together the most trusty sergeants of his guard, and coming +with them to the Queen's chamber, bade them to thrust in the door. +When Gugemar was found therein, the King commanded that he should be +slain with the sword, by reason of the anguish that was his. Gugemar +was in no whit dismayed by the threat. He started to his feet, and +gazing round, marked a stout rod of fir, on which it is the use for +linen to be hung. This he took in hand, and faced his foes, bidding +them have a care, for he would do a mischief to them all. The King +looked earnestly upon the fearless knight, inquiring of him who he +was, and where he was born, and in what manner he came to dwell within +his house. So Gugemar told over to him this story of his fate. He +showed him of the Beast that he had wounded to his hurt; of the nave, +and of his bitter wound; of how he came within the realm, and of the +lady's surgery. He told all to the ancient lord, to the last moment +when he stood within his power. The King replied that he gave no +credence to his word, nor believed that the story ran as he had said. +If, however, the vessel might be found, he would commit the knight +again to the waves. He would go the more heavily for the knight's +saining, and a glad day would it be if he made shipwreck at sea. When +they had entered into this covenant together, they went forth to the +harbour, and there discovered the barge, even as Gugemar had said. So +they set him thereon, and prayed him to return unto his own realm. + +Without sail or oar the ship parted from that coast, with no further +tarrying. The knight wept and wrung his hands, complaining of his +lady's loss, and of her cherishing. He prayed the mighty God to grant +him speedy death, and never to bring him home, save to meet again +with her who was more desirable than life. Whilst he was yet at his +orisons, the ship drew again to that port, from whence she had first +come. Gugemar made haste to get him from the vessel, so that he might +the more swiftly return to his own land. He had gone but a little way +when he was aware of a squire of his household, riding in the company +of a certain knight. This squire held the bridle of a destrier in his +hand, though no man rode thereon. Gugemar called to him by name, so +that the varlet looking upon him, knew again his lord. He got him to +his feet, and bringing the destrier to his master, set the knight +thereon. Great was the joy, and merry was the feast, when Gugemar +returned to his own realm. But though his friends did all that they +were able, neither song nor game could cheer the knight, nor turn him +from dwelling in his unhappy thoughts. For peace of mind they urged +that he took to himself a wife, but Gugemar would have none of their +counsel. Never would he wed a wife, on any day, either for love or for +wealth, save only that she might first unloose the knot within his +shirt. When this news was noised about the country, there was neither +dame nor damsel in the realm of Brittany, but essayed to unfasten the +knot. But there was no lady who could gain to her wish, whether by +force or guile. + +Now will I show of that lady, whom Gugemar so fondly loved. By the +counsel of a certain baron the ancient King set his wife in prison. +She was shut fast in a tower of grey marble, where her days were bad, +and her nights worse. No man could make clear to you the great pain, +the anguish and the dolour, that she suffered in this tower, wherein, +I protest, she died daily. Two years and more she lay bound in prison, +where warders came, but never joy or delight. Often she thought upon +her friend. + +"Gugemar, dear lord, in an evil hour I saw you with my eyes. Better +for me that I die quickly, than endure longer my evil lot. Fair +friend, if I could but win to that coast whence you sailed, very +swiftly would I fling myself in the sea, and end my wretched life." +When she had said these words she rose to her feet, and coming to +the door was amazed to find therein neither bolt nor key. She issued +forth, without challenge from sergeant or warder, and hastening to the +harbour, found there her lover's ship, made fast to that very rock, +from which she would cast her down. When she saw the barge she climbed +thereon, but presently bethought her that on this nave her friend had +gone to perish in the sea. At this thought she would have fled again +to the shore, but her bones were as water, and she fell upon the deck. +So in sore travail and sorrow, the vessel carried her across the +waves, to a port of Brittany, guarded by a castle, strong and very +fair. Now the lord of this castle was named Meriadus. He was a right +warlike prince, and had made him ready to fight with the prince of a +country near by. He had risen very early in the morning, to send forth +a great company of spears, the more easily to ravage this neighbour's +realm. Meriadus looked forth from his window, and marked the ship +which came to port. He hastened down the steps of the perron, and +calling to his chamberlain, came with what speed he might to the nave. +Then mounting the ladder he stood upon the deck. When Meriadus found +within the ship a dame, who for beauty seemed rather a fay than a mere +earthly woman, he seized her by her mantle, and brought her swiftly to +his keep. Right joyous was he because of his good fortune, for lovely +was the lady beyond mortal measure. He made no question as to who had +set her on the barge. He knew only that she was fair, and of high +lineage, and that his heart turned towards her with so hot a love as +never before had he put on dame or damsel. Now there dwelt within the +castle a sister of this lord, who was yet unwed. Meriadus bestowed the +lady in his sister's chamber, because it was the fairest in the tower. +Moreover he commanded that she should be meetly served, and held +in all reverence. But though the dame was so richly clothed and +cherished, ever was she sad and deep in thought. Meriadus came often +to cheer her with mirth and speech, by reason that he wished to gain +her love as a free gift, and not by force. It was in vain that he +prayed her for grace, since she had no balm for his wound. For answer +she showed him the girdle about her body, saying that never would she +give her love to man, save only to him who might unloose the buckle of +that girdle, without harm to belt or clasp. When Meriadus heard these +words, he spoke in haste and said, + +"Lady, there dwells in this country a very worthy knight, who will +take no woman as wife, except she first untie a certain crafty knot in +the hem of a shirt, and that without force or knife. For a little I +would wager that it was you who tied this knot." + +When the lady heard thereof her breath went from her, and near she +came to falling on the ground. Meriadus caught her in his arms, and +cut the laces of her bodice, that she might have the more air. He +strove to unfasten her girdle, but might not dissever the clasp. Yea, +though every knight in the realm essayed to unfasten that cincture, it +would not yield, except to one alone. + +Now Meriadus made the lists ready for a great jousting, and called to +that tournament all the knights who would aid him in his war. Many a +lord came at his bidding, and with them Gugemar, amongst the first. +Meriadus had sent letters to the knight, beseeching him, as friend and +companion, not to fail him in this business. So Gugemar hastened to +the need of his lord, and at his back more than one hundred spears. +All these Meriadus welcomed very gladly, and gave them lodging within +his tower. In honour of his guest, the prince sent two gentlemen to +his sister, praying her to attire herself richly, and come to hall, +together with the dame whom he loved so dearly well. These did as they +were bidden, and arrayed in their sweetest vesture, presently entered +in the hall, holding each other by the hand. Very pale and pensive was +the lady, but when she heard her lover's name her feet failed beneath +her, and had not the maiden held her fast, she would have fallen on +the floor. Gugemar rose from his seat at the sight of the dame, her +fashion and her semblance, and stood staring upon her. He went a +little apart, and said within himself, "Can this be my sweet friend, +my hope, my heart, my life, the fair lady who gave me the grace of her +love? From whence comes she; who might have brought her to this far +land? But I speak in my folly, for well I know that this is not my +dear. A little red, a little white, and all women are thus shapen. +My thoughts are troubled, by reason that the sweetness of this lady +resembles the sweetness of that other, for whom my heart sighs and +trembles. Yet needs must that I have speech of the lady." + +Gugemar drew near to the dame. He kissed her courteously, and found +no word to utter, save to pray that he might be seated at her side. +Meriadus spied upon them closely, and was the more heavy because of +their trouble. Therefore he feigned mirth. + +"Gugemar, dear lord, if it pleases you, let this damsel essay to untie +the knot of your sark, if so be she may loosen the coil." + +Gugemar made answer that very willingly he would do this thing. He +called to him a squire who had the shirt in keeping, and bade him seek +his charge, and deliver it to the dame. The lady took the sark in +hand. Well she knew the knot that she had tied so cunningly, and was +so willing to unloose; but for reason of the trouble at her heart, she +did not dare essay. Meriadus marked the distress of the damsel, and +was more sorrowful than ever was lover before. + +"Lady," said he, "do all that you are able to unfasten this coil." + +So at his commandment she took again to her the hem of the shirt, and +lightly and easily unravelled the tie. + +Gugemar marvelled greatly when he saw this thing. His heart told him +that of a truth this was his lady, but he could not give faith to his +eyes. + +"Friend, are you indeed the sweet comrade I have known? Tell me truly +now, is there about your body the girdle with which I girt you in your +own realm?" + +He set his hands to her waist, and found that the secret belt was yet +about her sides. + + +"Fair sweet friend, tell me now by what adventure I find you here, and +who has brought you to this tower?" + +So the lady told over to her friend the pain and the anguish and the +dolour of the prison in which she was held; of how it chanced that she +fled from her dungeon, and lighting upon a ship, entered therein, and +came to this fair haven; of how Meriadus took her from the barge, but +kept her in all honour, save only that ever he sought for her love; +"but now, fair friend, all is well, for you hold your lady in your +arms." + +Gugemar stood upon his feet, and beckoned with his hand. + +"Lords," he cried, "hearken now to me. I have found my friend, whom +I have lost for a great while. Before you all I pray and require of +Meriadus to yield me my own. For this grace I give him open thanks. +Moreover I will kneel down, and become his liege man. For two years, +or three, if he will, I will bargain to serve in his quarrels, and +with me, of riders, a hundred or more at my back." + +Then answered Meriadus, "Gugemar, fair friend, I am not yet so shaken +or overborne in war, that I must do as you wish, right humbly. This +woman is my captive. I found her: I hold her: and I will defend my +right against you and all your power." + +When Gugemar heard these proud words he got to horse speedily, him and +all his company. He threw down his glove, and parted in anger from +the tower. But he went right heavily, since he must leave behind his +friend. In his train rode all those knights who had drawn together +to that town for the great tournament. Not a knight of them all but +plighted faith to follow where he led, and to hold himself recreant +and shamed if he failed his oath. + + +That same night the band came to the castle of the prince with whom +Meriadus was at war. He welcomed them very gladly, and gave them +lodging in his tower. By their aid he had good hope to bring this +quarrel to an end. Very early in the morning the host came together to +set the battle in array. With clash of mail and noise of horns they +issued from the city gate, Gugemar riding at their head. They drew +before the castle where Meriadus lay in strength, and sought to take +it by storm. But the keep was very strong, and Meriadus bore himself +as a stout and valiant knight. So Gugemar, like a wary captain, sat +himself down before the town, till all the folk of that place were +deemed by friend and sergeant to be weak with hunger. Then they took +that high keep with the sword, and burnt it with fire. The lord +thereof they slew in his own hall; but Gugemar came forth, after such +labours as you have heard, bearing his lady with him, to return in +peace to his own land. + +From this adventure that I have told you, has come the Lay that +minstrels chant to harp and viol--fair is that song and sweet the +tune. + + + + +III + + +THE LAY OF THE DOLOROUS KNIGHT + +Hearken now to the Lay that once I heard a minstrel chanting to his +harp. In surety of its truth I will name the city where this story +passed. The Lay of the Dolorous Knight, my harper called his song, +but of those who hearkened, some named it rather, The Lay of the Four +Sorrows. + +In Nantes, of Brittany, there dwelt a dame who was dearly held of +all, for reason of the much good that was found in her. This lady was +passing fair of body, apt in book as any clerk, and meetly schooled in +every grace that it becometh dame to have. So gracious of person was +this damsel, that throughout the realm there was no knight could +refrain from setting his heart upon her, though he saw her but one +only time. Although the demoiselle might not return the love of so +many, certainly she had no wish to slay them all. Better by far that +a man pray and require in love all the dames of his country, than run +mad in woods for the bright eyes of one. Therefore this dame gave +courtesy and good will to each alike. Even when she might not hear a +lover's words, so sweetly she denied his wish that the more he held +her dear and was the more her servant for that fond denial. So because +of her great riches of body and of heart, this lady of whom I tell, +was prayed and required in love by the lords of her country, both by +night and by day. + +Now in Brittany lived four young barons, but their names I cannot +tell. It is enough that they were desirable in the eyes of maidens for +reason of their beauty, and that men esteemed them because they were +courteous of manner and open of hand. Moreover they were stout and +hardy knights amongst the spears, and rich and worthy gentlemen of +those very parts. Each of these four knights had set his heart upon +the lady, and for love of her pained himself mightily, and did all +that he was able, so that by any means he might gain her favour. Each +prayed her privily for her love, and strove all that he could to make +him worthy of the gift, above his fellows. For her part the lady was +sore perplexed, and considered in her mind very earnestly, which of +these four knights she should take as friend. But since they all were +loyal and worthy gentlemen, she durst not choose amongst them; for +she would not slay three lovers with her hand so that one might have +content. Therefore to each and all, the dame made herself fair and +sweet of semblance. Gifts she gave to all alike. Tender messages she +sent to each. Every knight deemed himself esteemed and favoured above +his fellows, and by soft words and fair service diligently strove to +please. When the knights gathered together for the games, each of +these lords contended earnestly for the prize, so that he might be +first, and draw on him the favour of his dame. Each held her for his +friend. Each bore upon him her gift--pennon, or sleeve, or ring. Each +cried her name within the lists. + +Now when Eastertide was come, a great tournament was proclaimed to be +held beyond the walls of Nantes, that rich city. The four lovers were +the appellants in this tourney, and from every realm knights rode +to break a lance in honour of their dame. Frenchman and Norman and +Fleming; the hardiest knights of Brabant, Boulogne and Anjou; each +came to do his devoir in the field. Nor was the chivalry of Nantes +backward in this quarrel, but till the vespers of the tournament was +come, they stayed themselves within the lists, and struck stoutly for +their lord. After the four lovers had laced their harness upon them, +they issued forth from the city, followed by the knights who were of +their company in this adventure. But upon the four fell the burden of +the day, for they were known of all by the embroidered arms upon their +surcoat, and the device fashioned on the shield. Now against the four +lovers arrayed themselves four other knights, armed altogether in +coats of mail, and helmets and gauntlets of steel. Of these stranger +knights two were of Hainault, and the two others were Flemings. When +the four lovers saw their adversaries prepare themselves for the +combat, they had little desire to flee, but hastened to join them in +battle. Each lowered his spear, and choosing his enemy, met him so +eagerly that all men wondered, for horse and man fell to the earth. +The four lovers recked little of their destriers, but freeing their +feet from the stirrups bent over the fallen foe, and called on him to +yield. When the friends of the vanquished knights saw their case, +they hastened to their succour; so for their rescue there was a great +press, and many a mighty stroke with the sword. + +The damsel stood upon a tower to watch these feats of arms. By their +blazoned coats and shields she knew her knights; she saw their +marvellous deeds, yet might not say who did best, nor give to one the +praise. But the tournament was no longer a seemly and ordered battle. +The ranks of the two companies were confused together, so that every +man fought against his fellow, and none might tell whether he struck +his comrade or his foe. The four lovers did well and worshipfully, so +that all men deemed them worthy of the prize. But when evening was +come, and the sport drew to its close, their courage led them to +folly. Having ventured too far from their companions, they were set +upon by their adversaries, and assailed so fiercely that three were +slain outright. As to the fourth he yet lived, but altogether mauled +and shaken, for his thigh was broken, and a spear head remained in his +side. The four bodies were fallen on the field, and lay with those who +had perished in that day. But because of the great mischief these +four lovers had done their adversaries, their shields were cast +despitefully without the lists; but in this their foemen did +wrongfully, and all men held them in sore displeasure. + +Great were the lamentation and the cry when the news of this mischance +was noised about the city. Such a tumult of mourning was never before +heard, for the whole city was moved. All men hastened forth to the +place where the lists were set. Meetly to mourn the dead there rode +nigh upon two thousand knights, with hauberks unlaced, and uncovered +heads, plucking upon their beards. So the four lovers were placed each +upon his shield, and being brought back in honour to Nantes, were +carried to the house of that dame, whom so greatly they had loved. +When the lady knew this distressful adventure, straightway she fell +to the ground. Being returned from her swoon, she made her complaint, +calling upon her lovers each by his name. + +"Alas," said she, "what shall I do, for never shall I know happiness +again. These four knights had set their hearts upon me, and despite +their great treasure, esteemed my love as richer than all their +wealth. Alas, for the fair and valiant knight! Alas, for the loyal and +generous man! By gifts such as these they sought to gain my favour, +but how might lady bereave three of life, so as to cherish one. Even +now I cannot tell for whom I have most pity, or who was closest to my +mind. But three are dead, and one is sore stricken; neither is there +anything in the world which can bring me comfort. Only this is there +to do--to give the slain men seemly burial, and, if it may be, to heal +their comrade of his wounds." + +So, because of her great love and nobleness, the lady caused these +three distressful knights to be buried well and worshipfully in a +rich abbey. In that place she offered their Mass penny, and gave rich +offerings of silver and of lights besides. May God have mercy on them +in that day. As for the wounded knight she commanded him to be carried +to her own chamber. She sent for surgeons, and gave him into their +hands. These searched his wounds so skilfully, and tended him with so +great care, that presently his hurt commenced to heal. Very often was +the lady in the chamber, and very tenderly she cherished the stricken +man. Yet ever she felt pity for the three Knights of the Sorrows, and +ever she went heavily by reason of their deaths. + +Now on a summer's day, the lady and the knight sat together after +meat. She called to mind the sorrow that was hers; so that, in a +space, her head fell upon her breast, and she gave herself altogether +to her grief. The knight looked earnestly upon his dame. Well he might +see that she was far away, and clearly he perceived the cause. + +"Lady," said he, "you are in sorrow. Open now your grief to me. If you +tell me what is in your heart perchance I may find you comfort." + +"Fair friend," replied she, "I think of what is gone, and remember +your companions, who are dead. Never was lady of my peerage, however +fair and good and gracious, ever loved by four such valiant gentlemen, +nor ever lost them in one single day. Save you--who were so maimed and +in such peril--all are gone. Therefore I call to mind those who loved +me so dearly, and am the saddest lady beneath the sun. To remember +these things, of you four I shall make a Lay, and will call it the Lay +of the Four Sorrows." + +When the knight heard these words he made answer very swiftly, "Lady, +name it not the Lay of the Four Sorrows, but, rather, the Lay of the +Dolorous Knight. Would you hear the reason why it should bear this +name? My three comrades have finished their course; they have nothing +more to hope of their life. They are gone, and with them the pang of +their great sorrow, and the knowledge of their enduring love for you. +I alone have come, all amazed and fearful, from the net wherein they +were taken, but I find my life more bitter than my comrades found the +grave. I see you on your goings and comings about the house. I may +speak with you both matins and vespers. But no other joy do I get-- +neither clasp nor kiss, nothing but a few empty, courteous words. +Since all these evils are come upon me because of you, I choose death +rather than life. For this reason your Lay should bear my name, and be +called the Lay of the Dolorous Knight. He who would name it the Lay +of the Four Sorrows would name it wrongly, and not according to the +truth." + +"By my faith," replied the lady, "this is a fair saying. So shall the +song be known as the Lay of the Dolorous Knight." + +Thus was the Lay conceived, made perfect, and brought to a fair birth. +For this reason it came by its name; though to this day some call it +the Lay of the Four Sorrows. Either name befits it well, for the story +tells of both these matters, but it is the use and wont in this land +to call it the Lay of the Dolorous Knight. Here it ends; no more is +there to say. I heard no more, and nothing more I know. Perforce I +bring my story to a close. + + + + +IV + + +THE LAY OF ELIDUC + +Now will I rehearse before you a very ancient Breton Lay. As the tale +was told to me, so, in turn, will I tell it over again, to the best of +my art and knowledge. Hearken now to my story, its why and its reason. + +In Brittany there lived a knight, so courteous and so brave, that in +all the realm there was no worthier lord than he. This knight was +named Eliduc. He had wedded in his youth a noble lady of proud race +and name. They had long dwelt together in peace and content, for their +hearts were fixed on one another in faith and loyalty. Now it chanced +that Eliduc sought his fortune in a far land, where there was a great +war. There he loved a Princess, the daughter of the King and Queen of +those parts. Guillardun was the maiden's name, and in all the realm +was none more fair. The wife of Eliduc had to name, Guildeluec, in her +own country. By reason of these two ladies their story is known as the +Lay of Guildeluec and Guillardun, but at first it was rightly called +the Lay of Eliduc. The name is a little matter; but if you hearken to +me you shall learn the story of these three lovers, in its pity and +its truth. + +Eliduc had as lord and suzerain, the King of Brittany over Sea. The +knight was greatly loved and cherished of his prince, by reason of his +long and loyal service. When the King's business took him from his +realm, Eliduc was his master's Justice and Seneschal. He governed the +country well and wisely, and held it from the foe with a strong hand. +Nevertheless, in spite of all, much evil was appointed unto him. +Eliduc was a mighty hunter, and by the King's grace, he would chase +the stag within the woods. He was cunning and fair as Tristan, and +so wise in venery, that the oldest forester might not gainsay him in +aught concerning the shaw. But by reason of malice and envy, certain +men accused him to the King that he had meddled with the royal +pleasaunce. The King bade Eliduc to avoid his Court. He gave no reason +for his commandment, and the knight might learn nothing of the cause. +Often he prayed the King that he might know whereof he was accused. +Often he begged his lord not to heed the specious and crafty words of +his foes. He called to mind the wounds he had gained in his master's +wars, but was answered never a word. When Eliduc found that he might +get no speech with his lord, it became his honour to depart. He +returned to his house, and calling his friends around him, opened +out to them this business of the King's wrath, in recompense for his +faithful service. + +"I did not reckon on a King's gratitude; but as the proverb says, it +is useless for a farmer to dispute with the horse in his plough. The +wise and virtuous man keeps faith to his lord, and bears goodwill to +his neighbour, not for what he may receive in return." + +Then the knight told his friends that since he might no longer stay in +his own country, he should cross the sea to the realm of Logres, and +sojourn there awhile, for his solace. His fief he placed in the hands +of his wife, and he required of his men, and of all who held him dear, +that they would serve her loyally. Having given good counsel to the +utmost of his power, the knight prepared him for the road. Right heavy +were his friends and kin, that he must go forth from amongst them. + +Eliduc took with him ten knights of his household, and set out on his +journey. His dame came with him so far as she was able, wringing her +hands, and making much sorrow, at the departure of her husband. At the +end he pledged good faith to her, as she to him, and so she returned +to her own home. Eliduc went his way, till he came to a haven on the +sea. He took ship, and sailed to the realm of Totenois, for many kings +dwell in that country, and ever there were strife and war. Now, near +to Exeter, in this land, there dwelt a King, right rich and strong, +but old and very full of years. He had no son of his body, but one +maid only, young, and of an age to wed. Since he would not bestow this +damsel on a certain prince of his neighbours, this lord made mortal +war upon his fellow, spoiling and wasting all his land. The ancient +King, for surety, had set his daughter within a castle, fair and very +strong. He had charged the sergeants not to issue forth from the +gates, and for the rest there was none so bold as to seek to storm the +keep, or even to joust about the barriers. When Eliduc was told of +this quarrel, he needed to go no farther, and sojourned for awhile +in the land. He turned over in his mind which of these princes dealt +unjustly with his neighbour. Since he deemed that the aged king was +the more vexed and sorely pressed in the matter, he resolved to aid +him to the best of his might, and to take arms in his service. Eliduc, +therefore, wrote letters to the King, telling him that he had quitted +his own country, and sought refuge in the King's realm. For his part +he was willing to fight as a mercenary in the King's quarrel, and if a +safe conduct were given him, he and the knights of his company would +ride, forthwith, to their master's aid. This letter, Eliduc sent by +the hands of his squires to the King. When the ancient lord had read +the letter, he rejoiced greatly, and made much of the messengers. He +summoned his constable, and commanded him swiftly to write out the +safe conduct, that would bring the baron to his side. For the rest he +bade that the messengers meetly should be lodged and apparelled, and +that such money should be given them as would be sufficient to their +needs. Then he sealed the safe conduct with his royal seal, and sent +it to Eliduc, straightway, by a sure hand. + +When Eliduc came in answer to the summons, he was received with great +honour by the King. His lodging was appointed in the house of a grave +and courteous burgess of the city, who bestowed the fairest chamber on +his guest. Eliduc fared softly, both at bed and board. He called to +his table such good knights as were in misease, by reason of prison or +of war. He charged his men that none should be so bold as to take pelf +or penny from the citizens of the town, during the first forty days of +their sojourn. But on the third day, it was bruited about the streets, +that the enemy were near at hand. The country folk deemed that they +approached to invest the city, and to take the gates by storm. When +the noise and clamour of the fearful burgesses came to the ears of +Eliduc, he and his company donned their harness, and got to horse, +as quickly as they might. Forty horsemen mounted with him; as to the +rest, many lay sick or hurt within the city, and others were captives +in the hands of the foe. These forty stout sergeants waited for no +sounding of trumpets; they hastened to seek their captain at his +lodging, and rode at his back through the city gate. + +"Sir," said they, "where you go, there we will follow, and what you +bid us, that shall we do." + +"Friends," made answer the knight, "I thank you for your fellowship. +There is no man amongst us but who wishes to molest the foe, and do +them all the mischief that he is able. If we await them in the town, +we defend ourselves with the shield, and not with the sword. To my +mind it is better to fall in the field than to hide behind walls; but +if any of you have a wiser counsel to offer, now let him speak." + +"Sir," replied a soldier of the company, "through the wood, in good +faith, there runs a path, right strict and narrow. It is the wont of +the enemy to approach our city by this track. After their deeds of +arms before the walls, it is their custom to return by the way they +came, helmet on saddle bow, and hauberk unbraced. If we might catch +them, unready in the path, we could trouble them very grievously, even +though it be at the peril of our lives." + +"Friends," answered Eliduc, "you are all the King's men, and are bound +to serve him faithfully, even to the death. Come, now, with me where +I will go, and do that thing which you shall see me do. I give you my +word as a loyal gentleman, that no harm shall hap to any. If we gain +spoil and riches from the foe, each shall have his lot in the ransom. +At the least we may do them much hurt and mischief in this quarrel." + +Eliduc set his men in ambush, near by that path, within the wood. He +told over to them, like a cunning captain, the crafty plan he had +devised, and taught them how to play their parts, and to call upon +his name. When the foe had entered on that perilous path, and were +altogether taken in the snare, Eliduc cried his name, and summoned his +companions to bear themselves like men. This they did stoutly, and +assailed their enemy so fiercely that he was dismayed beyond measure, +and his line being broken, fled to the forest. In this fight was the +constable taken, together with fifty and five other lords, who owned +themselves prisoners, and were given to the keeping of the squires. +Great was the spoil in horse and harness, and marvellous was the +wealth they gained in gold and ransom. So having done such great deeds +in so short a space, they returned to the city, joyous and content. + +The King looked forth from a tower. He feared grievously for his men, +and made his complaint of Eliduc, who--he deemed--had betrayed him in +his need. Upon the road he saw a great company, charged and laden with +spoil. Since the number of those who returned was more than those who +went forth, the king knew not again his own. He came down from the +tower, in doubt and sore trouble, bidding that the gates should be +made fast, and that men should mount upon the walls. For such coil as +this, there was slender warrant. A squire who was sent out, came back +with all speed, and showed him of this adventure. He told over the +story of the ambush, and the tale of the prisoners. He rehearsed how +the constable was taken, and that many a knight was wounded, and many +a brave man slain. When the King might give credence thereto, he had +more joy than ever king before. He got him from his tower, and going +before Eliduc, he praised him to his face, and rendered him the +captives as a gift. Eliduc gave the King's bounty to his men. He +bestowed on them besides, all the harness and the spoil; keeping, for +his part, but three knights, who had won much honour in the battle. +From this day the King loved and cherished Eliduc very dearly. He held +the knight, and his company, for a full year in his service, and at +the end of the year, such faith had he in the knight's loyalty, that +he appointed him Seneschal and Constable of his realm. + +Eliduc was not only a brave and wary captain; he was also a courteous +gentleman, right goodly to behold. + +That fair maiden, the daughter of the King, heard tell of his deeds, +and desired to see his face, because of the good men spake of him. She +sent her privy chamberlain to the knight, praying him to come to her +house, that she might solace herself with the story of his deeds, for +greatly she wondered that he had no care for her friendship. Eliduc +gave answer to the chamberlain that he would ride forthwith, since +much he desired to meet so high a dame. He bade his squire to saddle +his destrier, and rode to the palace, to have speech with the lady. +Eliduc stood without the lady's chamber, and prayed the chamberlain to +tell the dame that he had come, according to her wish. The chamberlain +came forth with a smiling face, and straightway led him in the +chamber. When the princess saw the knight, she cherished him very +sweetly, and welcomed him in the most honourable fashion. The knight +gazed upon the lady, who was passing fair to see. He thanked her +courteously, that she was pleased to permit him to have speech with so +high a princess. Guillardun took Eliduc by the hand, and seated him +upon the bed, near her side. They spake together of many things, for +each found much to say. The maiden looked closely upon the knight, his +face and semblance; to her heart she said that never before had she +beheld so comely a man. Her eyes might find no blemish in his person, +and Love knocked upon her heart, requiring her to love, since her time +had come. She sighed, and her face lost its fair colour; but she cared +only to hide her trouble from the knight, lest he should think her the +less maidenly therefore. When they had talked together for a great +space, Eliduc took his leave, and went his way. The lady would have +kept him longer gladly, but since she did not dare, she allowed him +to depart. Eliduc returned to his lodging, very pensive and deep in +thought. He called to mind that fair maiden, the daughter of his +King, who so sweetly had bidden him to her side, and had kissed him +farewell, with sighs that were sweeter still. He repented him right +earnestly that he had lived so long a while in the land without +seeking her face, but promised that often he would enter her palace +now. Then he remembered the wife whom he had left in his own house. He +recalled the parting between them, and the covenant he made, that good +faith and stainless honour should be ever betwixt the twain. But the +maiden, from whom he came, was willing to take him as her knight! If +such was her will, might any pluck him from her hand? + +All night long, that fair maiden, the daughter of the King, had +neither rest nor sleep. She rose up, very early in the morning, and +commanding her chamberlain, opened out to him all that was in her +heart. She leaned her brow against the casement. + +"By my faith," she said, "I am fallen into a deep ditch, and sorrow +has come upon me. I love Eliduc, the good knight, whom my father made +his Seneschal. I love him so dearly that I turn the whole night upon +my bed, and cannot close my eyes, nor sleep. If he assured me of his +heart, and loved me again, all my pleasure should be found in his +happiness. Great might be his profit, for he would become King of this +realm, and little enough is it for his deserts, so courteous is he and +wise. If he have nothing better than friendship to give me, I choose +death before life, so deep is my distress." + +When the princess had spoken what it pleased her to say, the +chamberlain, whom she had bidden, gave her loyal counsel. + +"Lady," said he, "since you have set your love upon this knight, send +him now--if so it please you--some goodly gift-girdle or scarf or +ring. If he receive the gift with delight, rejoicing in your favour, +you may be assured that he loves you. There is no Emperor, under +Heaven, if he were tendered your tenderness, but would go the more +lightly for your grace." + +The damsel hearkened to the counsel of her chamberlain, and made +reply, "If only I knew that he desired my love! Did ever maiden woo +her knight before, by asking whether he loved or hated her? What if he +make of me a mock and a jest in the ears of his friends! Ah, if the +secrets of the heart were but written on the face! But get you ready, +for go you must, at once." + +"Lady," answered the chamberlain, "I am ready to do your bidding." + +"You must greet the knight a hundred times in my name, and will place +my girdle in his hand, and this my golden ring." + +When the chamberlain had gone upon his errand, the maiden was so +sick at heart, that for a little she would have bidden him return. +Nevertheless, she let him go his way, and eased her shame with words. + +"Alas, what has come upon me, that I should put my heart upon a +stranger. I know nothing of his folk, whether they be mean or high; +nor do I know whether he will part as swiftly as he came. I have done +foolishly, and am worthy of blame, since I have bestowed my love very +lightly. I spoke to him yesterday for the first time, and now I pray +him for his love. Doubtless he will make me a song! Yet if he be the +courteous gentleman I believe him, he will understand, and not deal +hardly with me. At least the dice are cast, and if he may not love me, +I shall know myself the most woeful of ladies, and never taste of joy +all the days of my life." + + +Whilst the maiden lamented in this fashion, the chamberlain hastened +to the lodging of Eliduc. He came before the knight, and having +saluted him in his lady's name, he gave to his hand the ring and the +girdle. The knight thanked him earnestly for the gifts. He placed the +ring upon his finger, and the girdle he girt about his body. He said +no more to the chamberlain, nor asked him any questions; save only +that he proffered him a gift. This the messenger might not have, and +returned the way he came. The chamberlain entered in the palace and +found the princess within her chamber. He greeted her on the part of +the knight, and thanked her for her bounty. + +"Diva, diva," cried the lady hastily, "hide nothing from me; does he +love me, or does he not?" + +"Lady," answered the chamberlain, "as I deem, he loves you, and truly. +Eliduc is no cozener with words. I hold him for a discreet and prudent +gentleman, who knows well how to hide what is in his heart. I gave him +greeting in your name, and granted him your gifts. He set the ring +upon his finger, and as to your girdle, he girt it upon him, and +belted it tightly about his middle. I said no more to him, nor he to +me; but if he received not your gifts in tenderness, I am the more +deceived. Lady, I have told you his words: I cannot tell you his +thoughts. Only, mark carefully what I am about to say. If Eliduc had +not a richer gift to offer, he would not have taken your presents at +my hand." + +"It pleases you to jest," said the lady. "I know well that Eliduc does +not altogether hate me. Since my only fault is to cherish him too +fondly, should he hate me, he would indeed be blameworthy. Never again +by you, or by any other, will I require him of aught, or look to him +for comfort. He shall see that a maiden's love is no slight thing, +lightly given, and lightly taken again--but, perchance, he will not +dwell in the realm so long as to know of the matter." + +"Lady, the knight has covenanted to serve the King, in all loyalty, +for the space of a year. You have full leisure to tell, whatever you +desire him to learn." + +When the maiden heard that Eliduc remained in the country, she +rejoiced very greatly. She was glad that the knight would sojourn +awhile in her city, for she knew naught of the torment he endured, +since first he looked upon her. He had neither peace nor delight, for +he could not get her from his mind. He reproached himself bitterly. +He called to remembrance the covenant he made with his wife, when he +departed from his own land, that he would never be false to his oath. +But his heart was a captive now, in a very strong prison. He desired +greatly to be loyal and honest, but he could not deny his love for the +maiden--Guillardun, so frank and so fair. + +Eliduc strove to act as his honour required. He had speech and sight +of the lady, and did not refuse her kiss and embrace. He never spoke +of love, and was diligent to offend in nothing. He was careful in +this, because he would keep faith with his wife, and would attempt no +matter against his King. Very grievously he pained himself, but at the +end he might do no more. Eliduc caused his horse to be saddled, and +calling his companions about him, rode to the castle to get audience +of the King. He considered, too, that he might see his lady, and learn +what was in her heart. It was the hour of meat, and the King having +risen from table, had entered in his daughter's chamber. The King was +at chess, with a lord who had but come from over-sea. The lady sat +near the board, to watch the movements of the game. When Eliduc came +before the prince, he welcomed him gladly, bidding him to seat himself +close at hand. Afterwards he turned to his daughter, and said, +"Princess, it becomes you to have a closer friendship with this lord, +and to treat him well and worshipfully. Amongst five hundred, there is +no better knight than he." + +When the maiden had listened demurely to her father's commandment, +there was no gayer lady than she. She rose lightly to her feet, and +taking the knight a little from the others, seated him at her side. +They remained silent, because of the greatness of their love. She did +not dare to speak the first, and to him the maid was more dreadful +than a knight in mail. At the end Eliduc thanked her courteously for +the gifts she had sent him; never was grace so precious and so kind. +The maiden made answer to the knight, that very dear to her was the +use he had found for her ring, and the girdle with which he had belted +his body. She loved him so fondly that she wished him for her husband. +If she might not have her wish, one thing she knew well, that she +would take no living man, but would die unwed. She trusted he would +not deny her hope. + +"Lady," answered the knight, "I have great joy in your love, and thank +you humbly for the goodwill you bear me. I ought indeed to be a +happy man, since you deign to show me at what price you value our +friendship. Have you remembered that I may not remain always in your +realm? I covenanted with the King to serve him as his man for the +space of one year. Perchance I may stay longer in his service, for I +would not leave him till his quarrel be ended. Then I shall return to +my own land; so, fair lady, you permit me to say farewell." + +The maiden made answer to her knight, "Fair friend, right sweetly I +thank you for your courteous speech. So apt a clerk will know, without +more words, that he may have of me just what he would. It becomes my +love to give faith to all you say." + +The two lovers spoke together no further; each was well assured of +what was in the other's heart. Eliduc rode back to his lodging, right +joyous and content. Often he had speech with his friend, and passing +great was the love which grew between the twain. + +Eliduc pressed on the war so fiercely that in the end he took captive +the King who troubled his lord, and had delivered the land from its +foes. He was greatly praised of all as a crafty captain in the field, +and a hardy comrade with the spear. The poor and the minstrel counted +him a generous knight. About this time that King, who had bidden +Eliduc avoid his realm, sought diligently to find him. He had sent +three messengers beyond the seas to seek his ancient Seneschal. A +strong enemy had wrought him much grief and loss. All his castles were +taken from him, and all his country was a spoil to the foe. Often and +sorely he repented him of the evil counsel to which he had given ear. +He mourned the absence of his mightiest knight, and drove from his +councils those false lords who, for malice and envy, had defamed him. +These he outlawed for ever from his realm. The King wrote letters to +Eliduc, conjuring him by the loving friendship that was once between +them, and summoning him as a vassal is required of his lord, to hasten +to his aid, in that his bitter need. When Eliduc heard these tidings +they pressed heavily upon him, by reason of the grievous love he bore +the dame. She, too, loved him with a woman's whole heart. Between the +two there was nothing but the purest love and tenderness. Never by +word or deed had they spoiled their friendship. To speak a little +closely together; to give some fond and foolish gift; this was the sum +of their love. In her wish and hope the maiden trusted to hold the +knight in her land, and to have him as her lord. Naught she deemed +that he was wedded to a wife beyond the sea. + +"Alas," said Eliduc, "I have loitered too long in this country, and +have gone astray. Here I have set my heart on a maiden, Guillardun, +the daughter of the King, and she, on me. If, now, we part, there is +no help that one, or both, of us, must die. Yet go I must. My lord +requires me by letters, and by the oath of fealty that I have sworn. +My own honour demands that I should return to my wife. I dare not +stay; needs must I go. I cannot wed my lady, for not a priest in +Christendom would make us man and wife. All things turn to blame. God, +what a tearing asunder will our parting be! Yet there is one who will +ever think me in the right, though I be held in scorn of all. I will +be guided by her wishes, and what she counsels that will I do. The +King, her sire, is troubled no longer by any war. First, I will go to +him, praying that I may return to my own land, for a little, because +of the need of my rightful lord. Then I will seek out the maiden, and +show her the whole business. She will tell me her desire, and I shall +act according to her wish." + +The knight hesitated no longer as to the path he should follow. He +went straight to the King, and craved leave to depart. He told him +the story of his lord's distress, and read, and placed in the King's +hands, the letters calling him back to his home. When the King had +read the writing, and knew that Eliduc purposed to depart, he was +passing sad and heavy. He offered the knight the third part of his +kingdom, with all the treasure that he pleased to ask, if he would +remain at his side. He offered these things to the knight--these, and +the gratitude of all his days besides. + +"Do not tempt me, sire," replied the knight. "My lord is in such +deadly peril, and his letters have come so great a way to require me, +that go I must to aid him in his need. When I have ended my task, I +will return very gladly, if you care for my services, and with me a +goodly company of knights to fight in your quarrels." + +The King thanked Eliduc for his words, and granted him graciously the +leave that he demanded. He gave him, moreover, all the goods of his +house; gold and silver, hound and horses, silken cloths, both rich and +fair, these he might have at his will. Eliduc took of them discreetly, +according to his need. Then, very softly, he asked one other gift. +If it pleased the King, right willingly would he say farewell to the +princess, before he went. The King replied that it was his pleasure, +too. He sent a page to open the door of the maiden's chamber, and to +tell her the knight's request. When she saw him, she took him by +the hand, and saluted him very sweetly. Eliduc was the more fain of +counsel than of claspings. He seated himself by the maiden's side, and +as shortly as he might, commenced to show her of the business. He had +done no more than read her of his letters, than her face lost its fair +colour, and near she came to swoon. When Eliduc saw her about to fall, +he knew not what he did, for grief. He kissed her mouth, once and +again, and wept above her, very tenderly. He took, and held her fast +in his arms, till she had returned from her swoon. + +"Fair dear friend," said he softly, "bear with me while I tell you +that you are my life and my death, and in you is all my comfort. I +have bidden farewell to your father, and purposed to go back to my own +land, for reason of this bitter business of my lord. But my will is +only in your pleasure, and whatever the future brings me, your counsel +I will do." + +"Since you cannot stay," said the maiden, "take me with you, wherever +you go. If not, my life is so joyless without you, that I would wish +to end it with my knife." + +Very sweetly made answer Sir Eliduc, for in honesty he loved honest +maid, "Fair friend, I have sworn faith to your father, and am his man. +If I carried you with me, I should give the lie to my troth. Let this +covenant be made between us. Should you give me leave to return to my +own land I swear to you on my honour as a knight, that I will come +again on any day that you shall name. My life is in your hands. +Nothing on earth shall keep me from your side, so only that I have +life and health." + +Then she, who loved so fondly, granted her knight permission to +depart, and fixed the term, and named the day for his return. Great +was their sorrow that the hour had come to bid farewell. They gave +rings of gold for remembrance, and sweetly kissed adieu. So they +severed from each other's arms. + +Eliduc sought the sea, and with a fair wind, crossed swiftly to the +other side. His lord was greatly content to learn the tidings of his +knight's return. His friends and his kinsfolk came to greet him, and +the common folk welcomed him very gladly. But, amongst them all, none +was so blithe at his home-coming as the fair and prudent lady who was +his wife. Despite this show of friendship, Eliduc was ever sad, and +deep in thought. He went heavily, till he might look upon his friend. +He felt no happiness, nor made pretence of any, till he should meet +with her again. His wife was sick at heart, because of the coldness of +her husband. She took counsel with her soul, as to what she had done +amiss. Often she asked him privily, if she had come short or offended +in any measure, whilst he was without the realm. If she was accused by +any, let him tell her the accusation, that she might purge herself of +the offence. + +"Wife," answered Eliduc, "neither I, nor any other, charge you with +aught that is against your honour to do. The cause of my sorrow is +in myself. I have pledged my faith to the King of that country, from +whence I come, that I will return to help him in his need. When my +lord the King has peace in his realm, within eight days I shall be +once more upon the sea. Great travail I must endure, and many pains I +shall suffer, in readiness for that hour. Return I must, and till then +I have no mind for anything but toil; for I will not give the lie to +my plighted word." + +Eliduc put his fief once more in the hands of his dame. He sought +his lord, and aided him to the best of his might. By the counsel and +prowess of the knight, the King came again into his own. When the term +appointed by his lady, and the day she named for his return drew near, +Eliduc wrought in such fashion that peace was accorded between the +foes. Then the knight made him ready for his journey, and took thought +to the folk he should carry with him. His choice fell on two of his +nephews, whom he loved very dearly, and on a certain chamberlain of +his household. These were trusted servitors, who were of his inmost +mind, and knew much of his counsel. Together with these went his +squires, these only, for Eliduc had no care to take many. All these, +nephew and squire and chamberlain, Eliduc made to promise, and confirm +by an oath, that they would reveal nothing of his business. + +The company put to sea without further tarrying, and, crossing +quickly, came to that land where Eliduc so greatly desired to be. The +knight sought a hostel some distance from the haven, for he would +not be seen of any, nor have it bruited that Eliduc was returned. He +called his chamberlain, and sent him to his friend, bearing letters +that her knight had come, according to the covenant that had been +made. At nightfall, before the gates were made fast, Eliduc issued +forth from the city, and followed after his messenger. He had clothed +himself in mean apparel, and rode at a footpace straight to the city, +where dwelt the daughter of the King. The chamberlain arrived before +the palace, and by dint of asking and prying, found himself within the +lady's chamber. He saluted the maiden, and told her that her lover +was near. When Guillardun heard these tidings she was astonied beyond +measure, and for joy and pity wept right tenderly. She kissed the +letters of her friend, and the messenger who brought such welcome +tidings. The chamberlain prayed the lady to attire and make her ready +to join her friend. The day was spent in preparing for the adventure, +according to such plan as had been devised. When dark was come, +and all was still, the damsel stole forth from the palace, and the +chamberlain with her. For fear that any man should know her again, +the maiden had hidden, beneath a riding cloak, her silken gown, +embroidered with gold. About the space of a bow shot from the city +gate, there was a coppice standing within a fair meadow. Near by this +wood, Eliduc and his comrades awaited the coming of Guillardun. When +Eliduc saw the lady, wrapped in her mantle, and his chamberlain +leading her by the hand, he got from his horse, and kissed her right +tenderly. Great joy had his companions at so fair a sight. He set +her on the horse, and climbing before her, took bridle in glove, +and returned to the haven, with all the speed he might. He entered +forthwith in the ship, which put to sea, having on board none, save +Eliduc, his men, and his lady, Guillardun. With a fair wind, and a +quiet hour, the sailors thought that they would swiftly come to shore. +But when their journey was near its end, a sudden tempest arose on the +sea. A mighty wind drove them far from their harbourage, so that their +rudder was broken, and their sail torn from the mast. Devoutly they +cried on St. Nicholas, St. Clement, and Madame St. Mary, to aid them +in this peril. They implored the Mother that she would approach her +Son, not to permit them to perish, but to bring them to the harbour +where they would come. Without sail or oar, the ship drifted here and +there, at the mercy of the storm. They were very close to death, when +one of the company, with a loud voice began to cry, "What need is +there of prayers! Sir, you have with you, her, who brings us to our +death. We shall never win to land, because you, who already have a +faithful wife, seek to wed this foreign woman, against God and His +law, against honour and your plighted troth. Grant us to cast her in +the sea, and straightway the winds and the waves will be still." + +When Eliduc heard these words he was like to come to harm for rage. + +"Bad servant and felon traitor," he cried, "you should pay dearly for +your speech, if I might leave my lady." + +Eliduc held his friend fast in his arms, and cherished her as well as +he was able. When the lady heard that her knight was already wedded +in his own realm, she swooned where she lay. Her face became pale and +discoloured; she neither breathed nor sighed, nor could any bring +her any comfort. Those who carried her to a sheltered place, were +persuaded that she was but dead, because of the fury of the storm. +Eliduc was passing heavy. He rose to his feet, and hastening to his +squire, smote him so grievously with an oar, that he fell senseless on +the deck. He haled him by his legs to the side of the ship and flung +the body in the sea, where it was swiftly swallowed by the waves. He +went to the broken rudder, and governed the nave so skilfully, that it +presently drew to land. So, having come to their fair haven, they cast +anchor, and made fast their bridge to the shore. Dame Guillardun lay +yet in her swoon, and seemed no other than if she were really dead. +Eliduc's sorrow was all the more, since he deemed that he had slain +her with his hand. He inquired of his companions in what near place +they might lay the lady to her rest, "for I will not bid her farewell, +till she is put in holy ground with such pomp and rite as befit the +obsequies of the daughter of a King." His comrades answered him never +a word, for they were all bemused by reason of what had befallen. +Eliduc, therefore, considered within himself to what place he should +carry the lady. His own home was so near the haven where he had come, +that very easily they could ride there before evening. He called to +mind that in his realm there was a certain great forest, both long and +deep. Within this wood there was a little chapel, served by a holy +hermit for forty years, with whom Eliduc had oftimes spoken. + +"To this holy man," he said, "I will bear my lady. In his chapel he +shall bury her sweet body. I will endow him so richly of my lands, +that upon her chantry shall be founded a mighty abbey. There some +convent of monks or nuns or canons shall ever hold her in remembrance, +praying God to grant her mercy in His day." + +Eliduc got to horse, but first took oath of his comrades that never, +by them, should be discovered, that which they should see. He set his +friend before him on the palfrey, and thus the living and the dead +rode together, till they had entered the wood, and come before the +chapel. The squires called and beat upon the door, but it remained +fast, and none was found to give them any answer. Eliduc bade that one +should climb through a window, and open the door from within. When +they had come within the chapel they found a new made tomb, and writ +thereon, that the holy hermit having finished his course, was made +perfect, eight days before Passing sad was Eliduc, and esmayed. His +companions would have digged a second grave, and set therein, his +friend; but the knight would in no wise consent, for--he said--he +purposed to take counsel of the priests of his country, as to building +some church or abbey above her tomb. "At this hour we will but lay her +body before the altar, and commend her to God His holy keeping." +He commanded them to bring their mantles and make a bed upon the +altar-pace. Thereon they laid the maiden, and having wrapped her close +in her lover's cloak, left her alone. When the moment came for Eliduc +to take farewell of his lady, he deemed that his own last hour had +come. He kissed her eyes and her face. + +"Fair friend," said he, "if it be pleasing to God, never will I bear +sword or lance again, or seek the pleasures of this mortal world. Fair +friend, in an ill hour you saw me! Sweet lady, in a bitter hour you +followed me to death! Fairest, now were you a queen, were it not for +the pure and loyal love you set upon me? Passing sad of heart am I for +you, my friend. The hour that I have seen you in your shroud, I will +take the habit of some holy order, and every day, upon your tomb, I +will tell over the chaplet of my sorrow." + +Having taken farewell of the maiden, Eliduc came forth from the +chapel, and closed the doors. He sent messages to his wife, that he +was returning to his house, but weary and overborne. When the dame +heard these tidings, she was happy in her heart, and made ready to +greet him. She received her lord tenderly; but little joy came of her +welcome, for she got neither smiles in answer, nor tender words in +return. She dared not inquire the reason, during the two days Eliduc +remained in the house. The knight heard Mass very early in the +morning, and then set forth on the road leading to the chapel where +the maiden lay. He found her as he had parted, for she had not come +back from her swoon, and there was neither stir in her, nor breath. He +marvelled greatly, for he saw her, vermeil and white, as he had known +her in life. She had lost none of her sweet colour, save that she was +a little blanched. He wept bitterly above her, and entreated for her +soul. Having made his prayer, he went again to his house. + +On a day when Eliduc went forth, his wife called to her a varlet of +her household, commanding him to follow his lord afar off, and mark +where he went, and on what business. She promised to give him harness +and horses, if he did according to her will. The varlet hid himself in +the wood, and followed so cunningly after his lord, that he was not +perceived. He watched the knight enter the chapel, and heard the +cry and lamentation that he made. When Eliduc came out, the varlet +hastened to his mistress, and told her what he had seen, the tears and +dolour, and all that befell his lord within the hermitage. The lady +summoned all her courage. + +"We will go together, as soon as we may, to this hermitage. My lord +tells me that he rides presently to the Court to speak with the King. +I knew that my husband loved this dead hermit very tenderly, but I +little thought that his loss would make him mad with grief." + +The next day the dame let her lord go forth in peace. When, about +noon, Eliduc rode to the Court to greet his King, the lady rose +quickly, and carrying the varlet with her, went swiftly to the +hermitage. She entered the chapel, and saw the bed upon the +altar-pace, and the maiden thereon, like a new sprung rose. Stooping +down the lady removed the mantle. She marked the rigid body, the long +arms, and the frail white hands, with their slender fingers, folded on +the breast. Thus she learned the secret of the sorrow of her lord. She +called the varlet within the chapel, and showed him this wonder. + +"Seest thou," she said, "this woman, who for beauty shineth as a gem! +This lady, in her life, was the lover of my lord. It was for her that +all his days were spoiled by grief. By my faith I marvel little at +his sorrow, since I, who am a woman too, will--for pity's sake or +love--never know joy again, having seen so fair a lady in the dust." + +So the wife wept above the body of the maiden. Whilst the lady +sat weeping, a weasel came from under the altar, and ran across +Guillardun's body. The varlet smote it with his staff, and killed it +as it passed. He took the vermin and flung it away. The companion of +this weasel presently came forth to seek him. She ran to the place +where he lay, and finding that he would not get him on his feet, +seemed as one distraught. She went forth from the chapel, and hastened +to the wood, from whence she returned quickly, bearing a vermeil +flower beneath her teeth. This red flower she placed within the mouth +of that weasel the varlet had slain, and immediately he stood upon his +feet. When the lady saw this, she cried to the varlet, + +"Throw, man, throw, and gain the flower." + +The servitor flung his staff, and the weasels fled away, leaving that +fair flower upon the floor. The lady rose. She took the flower, and +returned with it swiftly to the altar pace. Within the mouth of the +maiden, she set a flower that was more vermeil still. For a short +space the dame and the damsel were alike breathless. Then the maiden +came to herself, with a sigh. She opened her eyes, and commenced to +speak. + +"Diva," she said, "have I slept so long, indeed!" + +When the lady heard her voice she gave thanks to God. She inquired of +the maiden as to her name and degree. The damsel made answer to her, +"Lady, I was born in Logres, and am daughter to the King of that +realm. Greatly there I loved a knight, named Eliduc, the seneschal of +my sire. We fled together from my home, to my own most grievous fault. +He never told me that he was wedded to a wife in his own country, and +he hid the matter so cunningly, that I knew naught thereof. When I +heard tell of his dame, I swooned for pure sorrow. Now I find that +this false lover, has, like a felon, betrayed me in a strange land. +What will chance to a maiden in so foul a plight? Great is that +woman's folly who puts her trust in man." + +"Fair damsel," replied the lady, "there is nothing in the whole world +that can give such joy to this felon, as to hear that you are yet +alive. He deems that you are dead, and every day he beweeps your swoon +in the chapel. I am his wife, and my heart is sick, just for looking +on his sorrow. To learn the reason of his grief, I caused him to +be followed, and that is why I have found you here. It is a great +happiness for me to know that you live. You shall return with me to my +home, and I will place you in the tenderness of your friend. Then I +shall release him of his marriage troth, since it is my dearest hope +to take the veil." + +When the wife had comforted the maiden with such words, they went +together to her own house. She called to her servitor, and bade him +seek his lord. The varlet went here and there, till he lighted on +Eliduc. He came before him, and showed him of all these things. Eliduc +mounted straightway on his horse, and waiting neither for squire or +companion, that same night came to his hall. When he found alive, her, +who once was dead, Eliduc thanked his wife for so dear a gift. He +rejoiced beyond measure, and of all his days, no day was more happy +than this. He kissed the maiden often, and very sweetly she gave him +again his kiss, for great was the joy between the twain. The dame +looked on their happiness, and knew that her lord meetly had bestowed +his love. She prayed him, therefore, that he would grant her leave to +depart, since she would serve God as a cloistered nun. Of his wealth +she craved such a portion as would permit her to found a convent. He +would then be able to wed the maiden on whom his heart was set, for it +was neither honest nor seemly that a man should maintain a wife with +either hand. + +Eliduc could do no otherwise than consent. He gave the permission she +asked, and did all according to her will. He endowed the lady of his +lands, near by that chapel and hermitage, within the wood. There he +built a church with offices and refectory, fair to see. Much wealth he +bestowed on the convent, in money and estate. When all was brought to +a good end, the lady took the veil upon her head. Thirty other ladies +entered in the house with her, and long she ruled them as their +Abbess, right wisely and well. + +Eliduc wedded with his friend, in great pomp, and passing rich was the +marriage feast. They dwelt in unity together for many days, for ever +between them was perfect love. They walked uprightly, and gave alms of +their goods, till such a time as it became them to turn to God. After +much thought, Eliduc built a great church close beside his castle. +He endowed it with all his gold and silver, and with the rest of his +land. He set priests there, and holy layfolk also, for the business of +the house, and the fair services of religion. + +When all was builded and ordered, Eliduc offered himself, with them, +that he--weak man--might serve the omnipotent God. He set with the +Abbess Guildeluec--who once was his dame--that wife whom he loved so +dearly well. The Abbess received her as a sister, and welcomed her +right honourably. She admonished her in the offices of God, and taught +her of the rules and practice of their holy Order. They prayed to God +for their friend, that He would grant him mercy in His day. In turn, +he entreated God for them. Messages came from convent and monastery as +to how they fared, so that each might encourage the other in His way. +Each strove painfully, for himself and his, to love God the more +dearly, and to abide in His holy faith. Each made a good end, and the +mercy of God was abundantly made clear to all. + +Of the adventure of these three lovers, the courteous Bretons made +this Lay for remembrance, since they deemed it a matter that men +should not forget. + + + + +V + + +THE LAY OF THE NIGHTINGALE + +Now will I tell you a story, whereof the Breton harper already has +made a Lay. Laustic, I deem, men name it in that country, which, being +interpreted, means rossignol in French, and nightingale in good plain +English. + +In the realm of Brittany stands a certain rich and mighty city, called +Saint Malo. There were citizens of this township two knights, so well +spoken and reputed of all, that the city drew therefrom great profit +and fame. The houses of these lords were very near the one to the +other. One of the two knights had to wife a passing fair lady, right +gracious of manner and sweet of tongue. Wondrous pleasure found this +dame to array herself richly, after the wont and fashion of her time. +The other knight was yet a bachelor. He was well accounted of amongst +his fellows as a hardy knight and as an honourable man. He gave +hospitality gladly. Largely he gained, largely he spent, and willingly +bestowed gifts of all that he had. + +This bachelor set his love upon his neighbour's wife. By reason of his +urgent prayers, his long suit and service, and by reason that all men +spake naught of him but praise--perchance, also, for reason that he +was never far from her eye--presently this lady came to set her heart +on him again. Though these two friends loved right tenderly, yet were +they so private and careful in their loves that none perceived what +was in their hearts. No man pried on them, or disturbed their goings +and comings. These were the more easy to devise since the bachelor and +the lady were such near neighbours. Their two houses stood side by +side, hall and cellar and combles. Only between the gardens was built +a high and ancient wall, of worn gray stone. When the lady sat within +her bower, by leaning from the casement she and her friend might speak +together, he to her, and she to him. They could also throw messages in +writing, and divers pretty gifts, the one to the other. Little enough +had they to displease them, and greatly were they at their ease, save +only that they might not take their pleasure together, so often as +their hearts had wished. For the dame was guarded very straitly when +her husband was abroad. Yet not so strictly but that they might have +word and speech, the now by night and now by day. At least, however +close the watch and ward, none might hinder that at times these fair +lovers stood within their casements, and looked fondly on the other's +face. + +Now after these friends had loved for a great space it chanced that +the season became warm and sweet. It was the time when meadow and +copse are green; when orchards grow white with bloom, and birds break +into song as thickly as the bush to flower. It is the season when he +who loves would win to his desire. Truly I tell you that the knight +would have done all in his power to attain his wish, and the lady, for +her part, yearned for sight and speech of her friend. At night, when +the moon shone clearly in the sky, and her lord lay sleeping at her +side, often the dame slipped softly from her bed, and hastening to the +casement, leaned forth to have sight of him who watched. The greater +part of the dark they kept vigil together, for very pleasant it is to +look upon your friend, when sweeter things are denied. + +This chanced so often, and the lady rose so frequently from her bed, +that her lord was altogether wrathful, and many a time inquired the +reason of her unrest. + +"Husband," replied the dame, "there is no dearer joy in this world, +than to hear the nightingale sing. It is to hearken to the song that +rises so sweetly on the night, that I lean forth from the casement. +What tune of harp or viol is half so fair! Because of my delight in +his song, and of my desire to hear, I may not shut my eyes till it be +morn." + +When the husband heard the lady's words he laughed within himself for +wrath and malice. He purposed that very soon the nightingale should +sing within a net. So he bade the servants of his house to devise +fillets and snares, and to set their cunning traps about the orchard. +Not a chestnut tree nor hazel within the garth but was limed and +netted for the caging of this bird. It was not long therefore ere the +nightingale was taken, and the servants made haste to give him to the +pleasure of their lord. Wondrous merry was the knight when he held him +living in his hand. He went straightway to the chamber of his dame, +and entering, said, + +"Wife, are you within? Come near, for I must speak with you. Here is +the nightingale, all limed and taken, who made vigil of your sleeping +hours. Take now your rest in peace, for he will never disturb you +more." + +When the lady understood these words she was marvellously sorrowful +and heavy. She prayed her lord to grant her the nightingale for a +gift. But for all answer he wrung his neck with both hands so fiercely +that the head was torn from the body. Then, right foully, he flung the +bird upon the knees of the dame, in such fashion that her breast +was sprinkled with the blood. So he departed, incontinent, from the +chamber in a rage. + +The lady took the little body in her hands, and wept his evil fate. +She railed on those who with nets and snares had betrayed the +nightingale to his death; for anger and hate beyond measure had gained +hold on her heart. + +"Alas," cried she, "evil is come upon me. Never again may I rise from +my bed in the night, and watch from the casement, so that I may see my +friend. One thing I know full well, that he will deem my love is no +more set upon him. Woe to her who has none to give her counsel. This I +will do. I will bestow the nightingale upon him, and send him tidings +of the chance that has befallen." + +So this doleful lady took a fair piece of white samite, broidered with +gold, and wrought thereon the whole story of this adventure. In this +silken cloth she wrapped the body of the little bird, and calling to +her a trusty servant of her house, charged him with the message, and +bade him bear it to her friend. The varlet went his way to the knight, +and having saluted him on the part of the lady, he told over to him +the story, and bestowed the nightingale upon him. When all had been +rehearsed and shown to him, and he had well considered the matter, +the knight was very dolent; yet in no wise would he avenge himself +wrongfully. So he caused a certain coffret to be fashioned, made not +of iron or steel, but of fine gold and fair stones, most rich and +precious, right strongly clasped and bound. In this little chest he +set the body of the nightingale, and having sealed the shrine, carried +it upon him whenever his business took him abroad. + +This adventure could not long be hid. Very swiftly it was noised about +the country, and the Breton folk made a Lay thereon, which they +called the Lay of the Laustic, in their own tongue. + + + + +VI + + +THE LAY OF SIR LAUNFAL + +I will tell you the story of another Lay. It relates the adventures +of a rich and mighty baron, and the Breton calls it, the Lay of Sir +Launfal. + +King Arthur--that fearless knight and courteous lord--removed to +Wales, and lodged at Caerleon-on-Usk, since the Picts and Scots did +much mischief in the land. For it was the wont of the wild people of +the north to enter in the realm of Logres, and burn and damage at +their will. At the time of Pentecost, the King cried a great feast. +Thereat he gave many rich gifts to his counts and barons, and to the +Knights of the Round Table. Never were such worship and bounty shown +before at any feast, for Arthur bestowed honours and lands on all his +servants--save only on one. This lord, who was forgotten and misliked +of the King, was named Launfal. He was beloved by many of the Court, +because of his beauty and prowess, for he was a worthy knight, open of +heart and heavy of hand. These lords, to whom their comrade was dear, +felt little joy to see so stout a knight misprized. Sir Launfal was +son to a King of high descent, though his heritage was in a distant +land. He was of the King's household, but since Arthur gave him +naught, and he was of too proud a mind to pray for his due, he had +spent all that he had. Right heavy was Sir Launfal, when he considered +these things, for he knew himself taken in the toils. Gentles, marvel +not overmuch hereat. Ever must the pilgrim go heavily in a strange +land, where there is none to counsel and direct him in the path. + +Now, on a day, Sir Launfal got him on his horse, that he might take +his pleasure for a little. He came forth from the city, alone, +attended by neither servant nor squire. He went his way through a +green mead, till he stood by a river of clear running water. Sir +Launfal would have crossed this stream, without thought of pass or +ford, but he might not do so, for reason that his horse was all +fearful and trembling. Seeing that he was hindered in this fashion, +Launfal unbitted his steed, and let him pasture in that fair meadow, +where they had come. Then he folded his cloak to serve him as a +pillow, and lay upon the ground. Launfal lay in great misease, because +of his heavy thoughts, and the discomfort of his bed. He turned from +side to side, and might not sleep. Now as the knight looked towards +the river he saw two damsels coming towards him; fairer maidens +Launfal had never seen. These two maidens were richly dressed in +kirtles closely laced and shapen to their persons and wore mantles +of a goodly purple hue. Sweet and dainty were the damsels, alike in +raiment and in face. The elder of these ladies carried in her hands a +basin of pure gold, cunningly wrought by some crafty smith--very fair +and precious was the cup; and the younger bore a towel of soft white +linen. These maidens turned neither to the right hand nor to the left, +but went directly to the place where Launfal lay. When Launfal saw +that their business was with him, he stood upon his feet, like a +discreet and courteous gentleman. After they had greeted the knight, +one of the maidens delivered the message with which she was charged. + +"Sir Launfal, my demoiselle, as gracious as she is fair, prays that +you will follow us, her messengers, as she has a certain word to speak +with you. We will lead you swiftly to her pavilion, for our lady is +very near at hand. If you but lift your eyes you may see where her +tent is spread." + +Right glad was the knight to do the bidding of the maidens. He gave no +heed to his horse, but left him at his provand in the meadow. All his +desire was to go with the damsels, to that pavilion of silk and divers +colours, pitched in so fair a place. Certainly neither Semiramis in +the days of her most wanton power, nor Octavian, the Emperor of all +the West, had so gracious a covering from sun and rain. Above the tent +was set an eagle of gold, so rich and precious, that none might count +the cost. The cords and fringes thereof were of silken thread, and the +lances which bore aloft the pavilion were of refined gold. No King on +earth might have so sweet a shelter, not though he gave in fee the +value of his realm. Within this pavilion Launfal came upon the Maiden. +Whiter she was than any altar lily, and more sweetly flushed than the +new born rose in time of summer heat. She lay upon a bed with napery +and coverlet of richer worth than could be furnished by a castle's +spoil. Very fresh and slender showed the lady in her vesture of +spotless linen. About her person she had drawn a mantle of ermine, +edged with purple dye from the vats of Alexandria. By reason of the +heat her raiment was unfastened for a little, and her throat and the +rondure of her bosom showed whiter and more untouched than hawthorn in +May. The knight came before the bed, and stood gazing on so sweet a +sight. The Maiden beckoned him to draw near, and when he had seated +himself at the foot of her couch, spoke her mind. + +"Launfal," she said, "fair friend, it is for you that I have come from +my own far land. I bring you my love. If you are prudent and discreet, +as you are goodly to the view, there is no emperor nor count, nor +king, whose day shall be so filled with riches and with mirth as +yours." + +When Launfal heard these words he rejoiced greatly, for his heart was +litten by another's torch. + +"Fair lady," he answered, "since it pleases you to be so gracious, and +to dower so graceless a knight with your love, there is naught that +you may bid me do--right or wrong, evil or good--that I will not do to +the utmost of my power. I will observe your commandment, and serve in +your quarrels. For you I renounce my father and my father's house. +This only I pray, that I may dwell with you in your lodging, and that +you will never send me from your side." + +When the Maiden heard the words of him whom so fondly she desired to +love, she was altogether moved, and granted him forthwith her heart +and her tenderness. To her bounty she added another gift besides. +Never might Launfal be desirous of aught, but he would have according +to his wish. He might waste and spend at will and pleasure, but in his +purse ever there was to spare. No more was Launfal sad. Right merry +was the pilgrim, since one had set him on the way, with such a gift, +that the more pennies he bestowed, the more silver and gold were in +his pouch. + +But the Maiden had yet a word to say. + +"Friend," she said, "hearken to my counsel. I lay this charge upon +you, and pray you urgently, that you tell not to any man the secret of +our love. If you show this matter, you will lose your friend, for ever +and a day. Never again may you see my face. Never again will you have +seisin of that body, which is now so tender in your eyes." + +Launfal plighted faith, that right strictly he would observe this +commandment. So the Maiden granted him her kiss and her embrace, and +very sweetly in that fair lodging passed the day till evensong was +come. + +Right loath was Launfal to depart from the pavilion at the vesper +hour, and gladly would he have stayed, had he been able, and his lady +wished. + +"Fair friend," said she, "rise up, for no longer may you tarry. The +hour is come that we must part. But one thing I have to say before you +go. When you would speak with me I shall hasten to come before your +wish. Well I deem that you will only call your friend where she may +be found without reproach or shame of men. You may see me at your +pleasure; my voice shall speak softly in your ear at will; but I must +never be known of your comrades, nor must they ever learn my speech." + +Right joyous was Launfal to hear this thing. He sealed the covenant +with a kiss, and stood upon his feet. Then there entered the two +maidens who had led him to the pavilion, bringing with them rich +raiment, fitting for a knight's apparel. When Launfal had clothed +himself therewith, there seemed no goodlier varlet under heaven, for +certainly he was fair and true. After these maidens had refreshed him +with clear water, and dried his hands upon the napkin, Launfal went +to meat. His friend sat at table with him, and small will had he to +refuse her courtesy. Very serviceably the damsels bore the meats, and +Launfal and the Maiden ate and drank with mirth and content. But one +dish was more to the knight's relish than any other. Sweeter than the +dainties within his mouth, was the lady's kiss upon his lips. + +When supper was ended, Launfal rose from table, for his horse stood +waiting without the pavilion. The destrier was newly saddled and +bridled, and showed proudly in his rich gay trappings. So Launfal +kissed, and bade farewell, and went his way. He rode back towards the +city at a slow pace. Often he checked his steed, and looked behind +him, for he was filled with amazement, and all bemused concerning this +adventure. In his heart he doubted that it was but a dream. He was +altogether astonished, and knew not what to do. He feared that +pavilion and Maiden alike were from the realm of faery. + +Launfal returned to his lodging, and was greeted by servitors, clad +no longer in ragged raiment. He fared richly, lay softly, and spent +largely, but never knew how his purse was filled. There was no lord +who had need of a lodging in the town, but Launfal brought him to +his hall, for refreshment and delight. Launfal bestowed rich gifts. +Launfal redeemed the poor captive. Launfal clothed in scarlet the +minstrel. Launfal gave honour where honour was due. Stranger and +friend alike he comforted at need. So, whether by night or by day, +Launfal lived greatly at his ease. His lady, she came at will and +pleasure, and, for the rest, all was added unto him. + +Now it chanced, the same year, about the feast of St. John, a company +of knights came, for their solace, to an orchard, beneath that tower +where dwelt the Queen. Together with these lords went Gawain and his +cousin, Yvain the fair. Then said Gawain, that goodly knight, beloved +and dear to all, + +"Lords, we do wrong to disport ourselves in this pleasaunce without +our comrade Launfal. It is not well to slight a prince as brave as he +is courteous, and of a lineage prouder than our own." + +Then certain of the lords returned to the city, and finding Launfal +within his hostel, entreated him to take his pastime with them in that +fair meadow. The Queen looked out from a window in her tower, she and +three ladies of her fellowship. They saw the lords at their pleasure, +and Launfal also, whom well they knew. So the Queen chose of her Court +thirty damsels--the sweetest of face and most dainty of fashion--and +commanded that they should descend with her to take their delight in +the garden. When the knights beheld this gay company of ladies come +down the steps of the perron, they rejoiced beyond measure. They +hastened before to lead them by the hand, and said such words in their +ear as were seemly and pleasant to be spoken. Amongst these merry and +courteous lords hasted not Sir Launfal. He drew apart from the throng, +for with him time went heavily, till he might have clasp and greeting +of his friend. The ladies of the Queen's fellowship seemed but kitchen +wenches to his sight, in comparison with the loveliness of the maiden. +When the Queen marked Launfal go aside, she went his way, and seating +herself upon the herb, called the knight before her. Then she opened +out her heart. + +"Launfal, I have honoured you for long as a worthy knight, and have +praised and cherished you very dearly. You may receive a queen's whole +love, if such be your care. Be content: he to whom my heart is given, +has small reason to complain him of the alms." + +"Lady," answered the knight, "grant me leave to go, for this grace is +not for me. I am the King's man, and dare not break my troth. Not for +the highest lady in the world, not even for her love, will I set this +reproach upon my lord." + +When the Queen heard this, she was full of wrath, and spoke many hot +and bitter words. + +"Launfal," she cried, "well I know that you think little of woman and +her love. There are sins more black that a man may have upon his soul. +Traitor you are, and false. Right evil counsel gave they to my lord, +who prayed him to suffer you about his person. You remain only for his +harm and loss." + +Launfal was very dolent to hear this thing. He was not slow to take up +the Queen's glove, and in his haste spake words that he repented long, +and with tears. + +"Lady," said he, "I am not of that guild of which you speak. Neither +am I a despiser of woman, since I love, and am loved, of one who would +bear the prize from all the ladies in the land. Dame, know now and be +persuaded, that she, whom I serve, is so rich in state, that the very +meanest of her maidens, excels you, Lady Queen, as much in clerkly +skill and goodness, as in sweetness of body and face, and in every +virtue." + +The Queen rose straightway to her feet, and fled to her chamber, +weeping. Right wrathful and heavy was she, because of the words that +had besmirched her. She lay sick upon her bed, from which, she said, +she would never rise, till the King had done her justice, and righted +this bitter wrong. Now the King that day had taken his pleasure within +the woods. He returned from the chase towards evening, and sought the +chamber of the Queen. When the lady saw him, she sprang from her bed, +and kneeling at his feet, pleaded for grace and pity. Launfal--she +said--had shamed her, since he required her love. When she had put him +by, very foully had he reviled her, boasting that his love was already +set on a lady, so proud and noble, that her meanest wench went more +richly, and smiled more sweetly, than the Queen. Thereat the King +waxed marvellously wrathful, and swore a great oath that he would set +Launfal within a fire, or hang him from a tree, if he could not deny +this thing, before his peers. + +Arthur came forth from the Queen's chamber, and called to him three +of his lords. These he sent to seek the knight who so evilly had +entreated the Queen. Launfal, for his part, had returned to his +lodging, in a sad and sorrowful case. He saw very clearly that he had +lost his friend, since he had declared their love to men. Launfal sat +within his chamber, sick and heavy of thought. Often he called upon +his friend, but the lady would not hear his voice. He bewailed his +evil lot, with tears; for grief he came nigh to swoon; a hundred times +he implored the Maiden that she would deign to speak with her knight. +Then, since the lady yet refrained from speech, Launfal cursed his hot +and unruly tongue. Very near he came to ending all this trouble with +his knife. Naught he found to do but to wring his hands, and call upon +the Maiden, begging her to forgive his trespass, and to talk with him +again, as friend to friend. + +But little peace is there for him who is harassed by a King. There +came presently to Launfal's hostel those three barons from the Court. +These bade the knight forthwith to go with them to Arthur's presence, +to acquit him of this wrong against the Queen. Launfal went forth, to +his own deep sorrow. Had any man slain him on the road, he would +have counted him his friend. He stood before the King, downcast and +speechless, being dumb by reason of that great grief, of which he +showed the picture and image. + +Arthur looked upon his captive very evilly. + +"Vassal," said he, harshly, "you have done me a bitter wrong. It was a +foul deed to seek to shame me in this ugly fashion, and to smirch the +honour of the Queen. Is it folly or lightness which leads you to boast +of that lady, the least of whose maidens is fairer, and goes more +richly, than the Queen?" + +Launfal protested that never had he set such shame upon his lord. +Word by word he told the tale of how he denied the Queen, within the +orchard. But concerning that which he had spoken of the lady, he owned +the truth, and his folly. The love of which he bragged was now lost to +him, by his own exceeding fault. He cared little for his life, and was +content to obey the judgment of the Court. + +Right wrathful was the King at Launfal's words. He conjured his barons +to give him such wise counsel herein, that wrong might be done to +none. The lords did the King's bidding, whether good came of the +matter, or evil. They gathered themselves together, and appointed a +certain day that Launfal should abide the judgment of his peers. For +his part Launfal must give pledge and surety to his lord, that he +would come before this judgment in his own body. If he might not give +such surety then he should be held captive till the appointed day. +When the lords of the King's household returned to tell him of their +counsel, Arthur demanded that Launfal should put such pledge in his +hand, as they had said. Launfal was altogether mazed and bewildered at +this judgment, for he had neither friend nor kindred in the land. He +would have been set in prison, but Gawain came first to offer himself +as his surety, and with him, all the knights of his fellowship. These +gave into the King's hand as pledge, the fiefs and lands that they +held of his Crown. The King having taken pledges from the sureties, +Launfal returned to his lodging, and with him certain knights of his +company. They blamed him greatly because of his foolish love, and +chastened him grievously by reason of the sorrow he made before men. +Every day they came to his chamber, to know of his meat and drink, for +much they feared that presently he would become mad. + +The lords of the household came together on the day appointed for this +judgment. The King was on his chair, with the Queen sitting at his +side. The sureties brought Launfal within the hall, and rendered him +into the hands of his peers. Right sorrowful were they because of his +plight. A great company of his fellowship did all that they were able +to acquit him of this charge. When all was set out, the King demanded +the judgment of the Court, according to the accusation and the answer. +The barons went forth in much trouble and thought to consider this +matter. Many amongst them grieved for the peril of a good knight in +a strange land; others held that it were well for Launfal to suffer, +because of the wish and malice of their lord. Whilst they were thus +perplexed, the Duke of Cornwall rose in the council, and said, + +"Lords, the King pursues Launfal as a traitor, and would slay him with +the sword, by reason that he bragged of the beauty of his maiden, +and roused the jealousy of the Queen. By the faith that I owe this +company, none complains of Launfal, save only the King. For our part +we would know the truth of this business, and do justice between the +King and his man. We would also show proper reverence to our own liege +lord. Now, if it be according to Arthur's will, let us take oath of +Launfal, that he seek this lady, who has put such strife between him +and the Queen. If her beauty be such as he has told us, the Queen will +have no cause for wrath. She must pardon Launfal for his rudeness, +since it will be plain that he did not speak out of a malicious heart. +Should Launfal fail his word, and not return with the lady, or should +her fairness fall beneath his boast, then let him be cast off from our +fellowship, and be sent forth from the service of the King." + +This counsel seemed good to the lords of the household. They sent +certain of his friends to Launfal, to acquaint him with their +judgment, bidding him to pray his damsel to the Court, that he might +be acquitted of this blame. The knight made answer that in no wise +could he do this thing. So the sureties returned before the judges, +saying that Launfal hoped neither for refuge nor for succour from +the lady, and Arthur urged them to a speedy ending, because of the +prompting of the Queen. + +The judges were about to give sentence upon Launfal, when they saw +two maidens come riding towards the palace, upon two white ambling +palfreys. Very sweet and dainty were these maidens, and richly clothed +in garments of crimson sendal, closely girt and fashioned to their +bodies. All men, old and young, looked willingly upon them, for fair +they were to see. Gawain, and three knights of his company, went +straight to Launfal, and showed him these maidens, praying him to +say which of them was his friend. But he answered never a word. The +maidens dismounted from their palfreys, and coming before the dais +where the King was seated, spake him fairly, as they were fair. + +"Sire, prepare now a chamber, hung with silken cloths, where it is +seemly for my lady to dwell; for she would lodge with you awhile." + +This gift the King granted gladly. He called to him two knights of his +household, and bade them bestow the maidens in such chambers as were +fitting to their degree. The maidens being gone, the King required of +his barons to proceed with their judgment, saying that he had sore +displeasure at the slowness of the cause. + +"Sire," replied the barons, "we rose from Council, because of the +damsels who entered in the hall. We will at once resume the sitting, +and give our judgment without more delay." + +The barons again were gathered together, in much thought and trouble, +to consider this matter. There was great strife and dissension amongst +them, for they knew not what to do. In the midst of all this noise and +tumult, there came two other damsels riding to the hall on two Spanish +mules. Very richly arrayed were these damsels in raiment of fine +needlework, and their kirtles were covered by fresh fair mantles, +embroidered with gold. Great joy had Launfal's comrades when they +marked these ladies. They said between themselves that doubtless they +came for the succour of the good knight. Gawain, and certain of his +company, made haste to Launfal, and said, "Sir, be not cast down. +Two ladies are near at hand, right dainty of dress, and gracious of +person. Tell us truly, for the love of God, is one of these your +friend?" + +But Launfal answered very simply that never before had he seen these +damsels with his eyes, nor known and loved them in his heart. + +The maidens dismounted from their mules, and stood before Arthur, in +the sight of all. Greatly were they praised of many, because of their +beauty, and of the colour of their face and hair. Some there were who +deemed already that the Queen was overborne. + +The elder of the damsels carried herself modestly and well, and +sweetly told over the message wherewith she was charged. + +"Sire, make ready for us chambers, where we may abide with our lady, +for even now she comes to speak with thee." + +The King commanded that the ladies should be led to their companions, +and bestowed in the same honourable fashion as they. Then he bade the +lords of his household to consider their judgment, since he would +endure no further respite. The Court already had given too much time +to the business, and the Queen was growing wrathful, because of the +blame that was hers. Now the judges were about to proclaim their +sentence, when, amidst the tumult of the town, there came riding to +the palace the flower of all the ladies of the world. She came mounted +upon a palfrey, white as snow, which carried her softly, as though she +loved her burthen. Beneath the sky was no goodlier steed, nor one more +gentle to the hand. The harness of the palfrey was so rich, that no +king on earth might hope to buy trappings so precious, unless he sold +or set his realm in pledge. The Maiden herself showed such as I will +tell you. Passing slim was the lady, sweet of bodice and slender of +girdle. Her throat was whiter than snow on branch, and her eyes were +like flowers in the pallor of her face. She had a witching mouth, a +dainty nose, and an open brow. Her eyebrows were brown, and her golden +hair parted in two soft waves upon her head. She was clad in a shift +of spotless linen, and above her snowy kirtle was set a mantle of +royal purple, clasped upon her breast. She carried a hooded falcon +upon her glove, and a greyhound followed closely after. As the Maiden +rode at a slow pace through the streets of the city, there was none, +neither great nor small, youth nor sergeant, but ran forth from his +house, that he might content his heart with so great beauty. Every man +that saw her with his eyes, marvelled at a fairness beyond that of any +earthly woman. Little he cared for any mortal maiden, after he had +seen this sight. The friends of Sir Launfal hastened to the knight, to +tell him of his lady's succour, if so it were according to God's will. + +"Sir comrade, truly is not this your friend? This lady is neither +black nor golden, mean nor tall. She is only the most lovely thing in +all the world." + +When Launfal heard this, he sighed, for by their words he knew again +his friend. He raised his head, and as the blood rushed to his face, +speech flowed from his lips. + +"By my faith," cried he, "yes, she is indeed my friend. It is a small +matter now whether men slay me, or set me free; for I am made whole of +my hurt just by looking on her face." + +The Maiden entered in the palace--where none so fair had come +before--and stood before the King, in the presence of his household. +She loosed the clasp of her mantle, so that men might the more easily +perceive the grace of her person. The courteous King advanced to meet +her, and all the Court got them on their feet, and pained themselves +in her service. When the lords had gazed upon her for a space, and +praised the sum of her beauty, the lady spake to Arthur in this +fashion, for she was anxious to begone. + +"Sire, I have loved one of thy vassals,--the knight who stands in +bonds, Sir Launfal. He was always misprized in thy Court, and his +every action turned to blame. What he said, that thou knowest; for +over hasty was his tongue before the Queen. But he never craved her in +love, however loud his boasting. I cannot choose that he should come +to hurt or harm by me. In the hope of freeing Launfal from his bonds, +I have obeyed thy summons. Let now thy barons look boldly upon my +face, and deal justly in this quarrel between the Queen and me." + +The King commanded that this should be done, and looking upon her +eyes, not one of the judges but was persuaded that her favour exceeded +that of the Queen. + +Since then Launfal had not spoken in malice against his lady, the +lords of the household gave him again his sword. When the trial had +come thus to an end the Maiden took her leave of the King, and made +her ready to depart. Gladly would Arthur have had her lodge with him +for a little, and many a lord would have rejoiced in her service, but +she might not tarry. Now without the hall stood a great stone of dull +marble, where it was the wont of lords, departing from the Court, to +climb into the saddle, and Launfal by the stone. The Maiden came +forth from the doors of the palace, and mounting on the stone, seated +herself on the palfrey, behind her friend. Then they rode across the +plain together, and were no more seen. + +The Bretons tell that the knight was ravished by his lady to an +island, very dim and very fair, known as Avalon. But none has had +speech with Launfal and his faery love since then, and for my part I +can tell you no more of the matter. + + + + +VII + + +THE LAY OF THE TWO LOVERS + +Once upon a time there lived in Normandy two lovers, who were passing +fond, and were brought by Love to Death. The story of their love was +bruited so abroad, that the Bretons made a song in their own tongue, +and named this song the Lay of the Two Lovers. + +In Neustria--that men call Normandy--there is verily a high and +marvellously great mountain, where lie the relics of the Two Children. +Near this high place the King of those parts caused to be built a +certain fair and cunning city, and since he was lord of the Pistrians, +it was known as Pistres. The town yet endures, with its towers and +houses, to bear witness to the truth; moreover the country thereabouts +is known to us all as the Valley of Pistres. + +This King had one fair daughter, a damsel sweet of face and gracious +of manner, very near to her father's heart, since he had lost his +Queen. The maiden increased in years and favour, but he took no heed +to her trothing, so that men--yea, even his own people--blamed him +greatly for this thing. When the King heard thereof he was passing +heavy and dolent, and considered within himself how he might be +delivered from this grief. So then, that none should carry off his +child, he caused it to be proclaimed, both far and near, by script and +trumpet, that he alone should wed the maid, who would bear her in his +arms, to the pinnacle of the great and perilous mountain, and that +without rest or stay. When this news was noised about the country, +many came upon the quest. But strive as they would they might not +enforce themselves more than they were able. However mighty they were +of body, at the last they failed upon the mountain, and fell with +their burthen to the ground. Thus, for a while, was none so bold as to +seek the high Princess. + +Now in this country lived a squire, son to a certain count of that +realm, seemly of semblance and courteous, and right desirous to win +that prize, which was so coveted of all. He was a welcome guest at the +Court, and the King talked with him very willingly. This squire had +set his heart upon the daughter of the King, and many a time spoke in +her ear, praying her to give him again the love he had bestowed upon +her. So seeing him brave and courteous, she esteemed him for the gifts +which gained him the favour of the King, and they loved together in +their youth. But they hid this matter from all about the Court. This +thing was very grievous to them, but the damoiseau thought within +himself that it were good to bear the pains he knew, rather than +to seek out others that might prove sharper still. Yet in the end, +altogether distraught by love, this prudent varlet sought his friend, +and showed her his case, saying that he urgently required of her that +she would flee with him, for no longer could he endure the weariness +of his days. Should he ask her of the King, well he knew that by +reason of his love he would refuse the gift, save he bore her in his +arms up the steep mount. Then the maiden made answer to her lover, and +said, + +"Fair friend, well I know you may not carry me to that high place. +Moreover should we take to flight, my father would suffer wrath and +sorrow beyond measure, and go heavily all his days. Certainly my love +is too fond to plague him thus, and we must seek another counsel, for +this is not to my heart. Hearken well. I have kindred in Salerno, of +rich estate. For more than thirty years my aunt has studied there the +art of medicine, and knows the secret gift of every root and herb. +If you hasten to her, bearing letters from me, and show her your +adventure, certainly she will find counsel and cure. Doubt not that +she will discover some cunning simple, that will strengthen your body, +as well as comfort your heart. Then return to this realm with your +potion, and ask me at my father's hand. He will deem you but a +stripling, and set forth the terms of his bargain, that to him alone +shall I be given who knows how to climb the perilous mountain, without +pause or rest, bearing his lady between his arms." + +When the varlet heard this cunning counsel of the maiden, he rejoiced +greatly, and thanking her sweetly for her rede, craved permission to +depart. He returned to his own home, and gathering together a goodly +store of silken cloths most precious, he bestowed his gear upon the +pack horses, and made him ready for the road. So with a little company +of men, mounted on swift palfreys, and most privy to his mind, he +arrived at Salerno. Now the squire made no long stay at his lodging, +but as soon as he might, went to the damsel's kindred to open out his +mind. He delivered to the aunt the letters he carried from his friend, +and bewailed their evil case. When the dame had read these letters +with him, line by line, she charged him to lodge with her awhile, till +she might do according to his wish. So by her sorceries, and for +the love of her maid, she brewed such a potion that no man, however +wearied and outworn, but by drinking this philtre, would not be +refreshed in heart and blood and bones. Such virtue had this medicine, +directly it were drunken. This simple she poured within a little +flacket, and gave it to the varlet, who received the gift with great +joy and delight, and returned swiftly to his own land. + +The varlet made no long sojourn in his home. He repaired straightway +to the Court, and, seeking out the King, required of him his fair +daughter in marriage, promising, for his part, that were she given +him, he would bear her in his arms to the summit of the mount. The +King was no wise wrath at his presumption. He smiled rather at his +folly, for how should one so young and slender succeed in a business +wherein so many mighty men had failed. Therefore he appointed a +certain day for this judgment. Moreover he caused letters to be +written to his vassals and his friends--passing none by--bidding them +to see the end of this adventure. Yea, with public cry and sound of +trumpet he bade all who would, come to behold the stripling carry his +fair daughter to the pinnacle of the mountain. And from every region +round about men came to learn the issue of this thing. But for her +part the fair maiden did all that she was able to bring her love to a +good end. Ever was it fast day and fleshless day with her, so that by +any means she might lighten the burthen that her friend must carry in +his arms. + +Now on the appointed day this young dansellon came very early to the +appointed place, bringing the flacket with him. When the great company +were fully met together, the King led forth his daughter before them; +and all might see that she was arrayed in nothing but her smock. The +varlet took the maiden in his arms, but first he gave her the flask +with the precious brewage to carry, since for pride he might not +endure to drink therefrom, save at utmost peril. The squire set forth +at a great pace, and climbed briskly till he was halfway up the mount. +Because of the joy he had in clasping his burthen, he gave no thought +to the potion. But she--she knew the strength was failing in his +heart. + +"Fair friend," said she, "well I know that you tire: drink now, I pray +you, of the flacket, and so shall your manhood come again at need." + +But the varlet answered, + +"Fair love, my heart is full of courage; nor for any reason will I +pause, so long as I can hold upon my way. It is the noise of all this +folk--the tumult and the shouting--that makes my steps uncertain. +Their cries distress me, I do not dare to stand." + +But when two thirds of the course was won, the grasshopper would have +tripped him off his feet. Urgently and often the maiden prayed him, +saying, + +"Fair friend, drink now of thy cordial." + +But he would neither hear, nor give credence to her words. A mighty +anguish filled his bosom. He climbed upon the summit of the mountain, +and pained himself grievously to bring his journey to an end. This he +might not do. He reeled and fell, nor could he rise again, for the +heart had burst within his breast. + +When the maiden saw her lover's piteous plight, she deemed that he had +swooned by reason of his pain. She kneeled hastily at his side, and +put the enchanted brewage to his lips, but he could neither drink nor +speak, for he was dead, as I have told you. She bewailed his evil lot, +with many shrill cries, and flung the useless flacket far away. The +precious potion bestrewed the ground, making a garden of that desolate +place. For many saving herbs have been found there since that day by +the simple folk of that country, which from the magic philtre derived +all their virtue. + +But when the maiden knew that her lover was dead, she made such +wondrous sorrow, as no man had ever seen. She kissed his eyes and +mouth, and falling upon his body, took him in her arms, and pressed +him closely to her breast. There was no heart so hard as not to be +touched by her sorrow; for in this fashion died a dame, who was fair +and sweet and gracious, beyond the wont of the daughters of men. + +Now the King and his company, since these two lovers came not again, +presently climbed the mountain to learn their end. But when the King +came upon them lifeless, and fast in that embrace, incontinent he fell +to the ground, bereft of sense. After his speech had returned to him, +he was passing heavy, and lamented their doleful case, and thus did +all his people with him. + +Three days they kept the bodies of these two fair children from earth, +with uncovered face. On the third day they sealed them fast in a +goodly coffin of marble, and by the counsel of all men, laid them +softly to rest on that mountain where they died. Then they departed +from them, and left them together, alone. + +Since this adventure of the Two Children this hill is known as the +Mountain of the Two Lovers, and their story being bruited abroad, the +Breton folk have made a Lay thereof, even as I have rehearsed before +you. + + + + +VIII + + +THE LAY OF THE WERE-WOLF + +Amongst the tales I tell you once again, I would not forget the Lay of +the Were-Wolf. Such beasts as he are known in every land. Bisclavaret +he is named in Brittany; whilst the Norman calls him Garwal. + +It is a certain thing, and within the knowledge of all, that many a +christened man has suffered this change, and ran wild in woods, as +a Were-Wolf. The Were-Wolf is a fearsome beast. He lurks within the +thick forest, mad and horrible to see. All the evil that he may, he +does. He goeth to and fro, about the solitary place, seeking man, in +order to devour him. Hearken, now, to the adventure of the Were-Wolf, +that I have to tell. + +In Brittany there dwelt a baron who was marvellously esteemed of all +his fellows. He was a stout knight, and a comely, and a man of office +and repute. Right private was he to the mind of his lord, and dear to +the counsel of his neighbours. This baron was wedded to a very worthy +dame, right fair to see, and sweet of semblance. All his love was set +on her, and all her love was given again to him. One only grief had +this lady. For three whole days in every week her lord was absent from +her side. She knew not where he went, nor on what errand. Neither did +any of his house know the business which called him forth. + +On a day when this lord was come again to his house, altogether +joyous and content, the lady took him to task, right sweetly, in +this fashion, "Husband," said she, "and fair, sweet friend, I have a +certain thing to pray of you. Right willingly would I receive this +gift, but I fear to anger you in the asking. It is better for me to +have an empty hand, than to gain hard words." + +When the lord heard this matter, he took the lady in his arms, very +tenderly, and kissed her. + +"Wife," he answered, "ask what you will. What would you have, for it +is yours already?" + +"By my faith," said the lady, "soon shall I be whole. Husband, right +long and wearisome are the days that you spend away from your home. +I rise from my bed in the morning, sick at heart, I know not why. So +fearful am I, lest you do aught to your loss, that I may not find any +comfort. Very quickly shall I die for reason of my dread. Tell me now, +where you go, and on what business! How may the knowledge of one who +loves so closely, bring you to harm?" + +"Wife," made answer the lord, "nothing but evil can come if I tell you +this secret. For the mercy of God do not require it of me. If you but +knew, you would withdraw yourself from my love, and I should be lost +indeed." + +When the lady heard this, she was persuaded that her baron sought to +put her by with jesting words. Therefore she prayed and required +him the more urgently, with tender looks and speech, till he was +overborne, and told her all the story, hiding naught. + +"Wife, I become Bisclavaret. I enter in the forest, and live on prey +and roots, within the thickest of the wood." + +After she had learned his secret, she prayed and entreated the more as +to whether he ran in his raiment, or went spoiled of vesture. + +"Wife," said he, "I go naked as a beast." + +"Tell me, for hope of grace, what you do with your clothing?" + +"Fair wife, that will I never. If I should lose my raiment, or even be +marked as I quit my vesture, then a Were-Wolf I must go for all the +days of my life. Never again should I become man, save in that hour my +clothing were given back to me. For this reason never will I show my +lair." + +"Husband," replied the lady to him, "I love you better than all the +world. The less cause have you for doubting my faith, or hiding any +tittle from me. What savour is here of friendship? How have I made +forfeit of your love; for what sin do you mistrust my honour? Open now +your heart, and tell what is good to be known." + +So at the end, outwearied and overborne by her importunity, he could +no longer refrain, but told her all. + +"Wife," said he, "within this wood, a little from the path, there is a +hidden way, and at the end thereof an ancient chapel, where oftentimes +I have bewailed my lot. Near by is a great hollow stone, concealed by +a bush, and there is the secret place where I hide my raiment, till I +would return to my own home." + +On hearing this marvel the lady became sanguine of visage, because of +her exceeding fear. She dared no longer to lie at his side, and turned +over in her mind, this way and that, how best she could get her from +him. Now there was a certain knight of those parts, who, for a great +while, had sought and required this lady for her love. This knight had +spent long years in her service, but little enough had he got thereby, +not even fair words, or a promise. To him the dame wrote a letter, and +meeting, made her purpose plain. + +"Fair friend," said she, "be happy. That which you have coveted so +long a time, I will grant without delay. Never again will I deny your +suit. My heart, and all I have to give, are yours, so take me now as +love and dame." + +Right sweetly the knight thanked her for her grace, and pledged her +faith and fealty. When she had confirmed him by an oath, then she told +him all this business of her lord--why he went, and what he became, +and of his ravening within the wood. So she showed him of the chapel, +and of the hollow stone, and of how to spoil the Were-Wolf of his +vesture. Thus, by the kiss of his wife, was Bisclavaret betrayed. +Often enough had he ravished his prey in desolate places, but from +this journey he never returned. His kinsfolk and acquaintance came +together to ask of his tidings, when this absence was noised abroad. +Many a man, on many a day, searched the woodland, but none might find +him, nor learn where Bisclavaret was gone. + +The lady was wedded to the knight who had cherished her for so long a +space. More than a year had passed since Bisclavaret disappeared. Then +it chanced that the King would hunt in that self-same wood where the +Were-Wolf lurked. When the hounds were unleashed they ran this way and +that, and swiftly came upon his scent. At the view the huntsman winded +on his horn, and the whole pack were at his heels. They followed him +from morn to eve, till he was torn and bleeding, and was all adread +lest they should pull him down. Now the King was very close to the +quarry, and when Bisclavaret looked upon his master, he ran to him for +pity and for grace. He took the stirrup within his paws, and fawned +upon the prince's foot. The King was very fearful at this sight, but +presently he called his courtiers to his aid. + +"Lords," cried he, "hasten hither, and see this marvellous thing. Here +is a beast who has the sense of man. He abases himself before his foe, +and cries for mercy, although he cannot speak. Beat off the hounds, +and let no man do him harm. We will hunt no more to-day, but return to +our own place, with the wonderful quarry we have taken." + +The King turned him about, and rode to his hall, Bisclavaret following +at his side. Very near to his master the Were-Wolf went, like any dog, +and had no care to seek again the wood. When the King had brought him +safely to his own castle, he rejoiced greatly, for the beast was fair +and strong, no mightier had any man seen. Much pride had the King in +his marvellous beast. He held him so dear, that he bade all those who +wished for his love, to cross the Wolf in naught, neither to strike +him with a rod, but ever to see that he was richly fed and kennelled +warm. This commandment the Court observed willingly. So all the day +the Wolf sported with the lords, and at night he lay within the +chamber of the King. There was not a man who did not make much of the +beast, so frank was he and debonair. None had reason to do him wrong, +for ever was he about his master, and for his part did evil to none. +Every day were these two companions together, and all perceived that +the King loved him as his friend. + +Hearken now to that which chanced. + +The King held a high Court, and bade his great vassals and barons, and +all the lords of his venery to the feast. Never was there a goodlier +feast, nor one set forth with sweeter show and pomp. Amongst those who +were bidden, came that same knight who had the wife of Bisclavaret for +dame. He came to the castle, richly gowned, with a fair company, but +little he deemed whom he would find so near. Bisclavaret marked his +foe the moment he stood within the hall. He ran towards him, and +seized him with his fangs, in the King's very presence, and to the +view of all. Doubtless he would have done him much mischief, had not +the King called and chidden him, and threatened him with a rod. Once, +and twice, again, the Wolf set upon the knight in the very light of +day. All men marvelled at his malice, for sweet and serviceable was +the beast, and to that hour had shown hatred of none. With one consent +the household deemed that this deed was done with full reason, and +that the Wolf had suffered at the knight's hand some bitter wrong. +Right wary of his foe was the knight until the feast had ended, and +all the barons had taken farewell of their lord, and departed, each to +his own house. With these, amongst the very first, went that lord whom +Bisclavaret so fiercely had assailed. Small was the wonder that he was +glad to go. + +No long while after this adventure it came to pass that the courteous +King would hunt in that forest where Bisclavaret was found. With the +prince came his wolf, and a fair company. Now at nightfall the King +abode within a certain lodge of that country, and this was known of +that dame who before was the wife of Bisclavaret. In the morning the +lady clothed her in her most dainty apparel, and hastened to the +lodge, since she desired to speak with the King, and to offer him a +rich present. When the lady entered in the chamber, neither man nor +leash might restrain the fury of the Wolf. He became as a mad dog in +his hatred and malice. Breaking from his bonds he sprang at the lady's +face, and bit the nose from her visage. From every side men ran to the +succour of the dame. They beat off the wolf from his prey, and for a +little would have cut him in pieces with their swords. But a certain +wise counsellor said to the King, + +"Sire, hearken now to me. This beast is always with you, and there is +not one of us all who has not known him for long. He goes in and out +amongst us, nor has molested any man, neither done wrong or felony to +any, save only to this dame, one only time as we have seen. He has +done evil to this lady, and to that knight, who is now the husband of +the dame. Sire, she was once the wife of that lord who was so close +and private to your heart, but who went, and none might find where he +had gone. Now, therefore, put the dame in a sure place, and +question her straitly, so that she may tell--if perchance she knows +thereof--for what reason this Beast holds her in such mortal hate. For +many a strange deed has chanced, as well we know, in this marvellous +land of Brittany." + +The King listened to these words, and deemed the counsel good. He laid +hands upon the knight, and put the dame in surety in another place. He +caused them to be questioned right straitly, so that their torment was +very grievous. At the end, partly because of her distress, and partly +by reason of her exceeding fear, the lady's lips were loosed, and she +told her tale. She showed them of the betrayal of her lord, and how +his raiment was stolen from the hollow stone. Since then she knew not +where he went, nor what had befallen him, for he had never come +again to his own land. Only, in her heart, well she deemed and was +persuaded, that Bisclavaret was he. + +Straightway the King demanded the vesture of his baron, whether this +were to the wish of the lady, or whether it were against her wish. +When the raiment was brought him, he caused it to be spread before +Bisclavaret, but the Wolf made as though he had not seen. Then that +cunning and crafty counsellor took the King apart, that he might give +him a fresh rede. + +"Sire," said he, "you do not wisely, nor well, to set this raiment +before Bisclavaret, in the sight of all. In shame and much tribulation +must he lay aside the beast, and again become man. Carry your wolf +within your most secret chamber, and put his vestment therein. Then +close the door upon him, and leave him alone for a space. So we shall +see presently whether the ravening beast may indeed return to human +shape." + +The King carried the Wolf to his chamber, and shut the doors upon +him fast. He delayed for a brief while, and taking two lords of his +fellowship with him, came again to the room. Entering therein, all +three, softly together, they found the knight sleeping in the King's +bed, like a little child. The King ran swiftly to the bed and taking +his friend in his arms, embraced and kissed him fondly, above a +hundred times. When man's speech returned once more, he told him of +his adventure. Then the King restored to his friend the fief that was +stolen from him, and gave such rich gifts, moreover, as I cannot tell. +As for the wife who had betrayed Bisclavaret, he bade her avoid his +country, and chased her from the realm. So she went forth, she and her +second lord together, to seek a more abiding city, and were no more +seen. + +The adventure that you have heard is no vain fable. Verily and indeed +it chanced as I have said. The Lay of the Were-Wolf, truly, was +written that it should ever be borne in mind. + + + + +IX + + +THE LAY OF THE ASH TREE + +Now will I tell you the Lay of the Ash Tree, according to the story +that I know. + +In ancient days there dwelt two knights in Brittany, who were +neighbours and close friends. These two lords were brave and worthy +gentlemen, rich in goods and lands, and near both in heart and home. +Moreover each was wedded to a dame. One of these ladies was with +child, and when her time was come, she was delivered of two boys. Her +husband was right happy and content. For the joy that was his, he sent +messages to his neighbour, telling that his wife had brought forth two +sons, and praying that one of them might be christened with his name. +The rich man was at meat when the messenger came before him. The +servitor kneeled before the dais, and told his message in his ear. The +lord thanked God for the happiness that had befallen his friend, +and bestowed a fair horse on the bringer of good tidings. His wife, +sitting at board with her husband, heard the story of the messenger, +and smiled at his news. Proud she was, and sly, with an envious heart, +and a rancorous tongue. She made no effort to bridle her lips, but +spoke lightly before the servants of the house, and said, + +"I marvel greatly that so reputable a man as our neighbour, should +publish his dishonour to my lord. It is a shameful thing for any wife +to have two children at a birth. We all know that no woman brings +forth two at one bearing, except two husbands have aided her therein." + +Her husband looked upon her in silence for awhile, and when he spoke +it was to blame her very sternly. + +"Wife," he said, "be silent. It is better to be dumb, than to utter +such words as these. As you know well, there is not a breath to +tarnish this lady's good name." + +The folk of the house, who listened to these words, stored them in +their hearts, and told abroad the tale, spoken by their lady. Very +soon it was known throughout Brittany. Greatly was the lady blamed for +her evil tongue, and not a woman who heard thereof--whether she were +rich or poor--but who scorned her for her malice. The servant who +carried the message, on his return repeated to his lord of what he had +seen and heard. Passing heavy was the knight, and knew not what to +do. He doubted his own true wife, and suspected her the more sorely, +because she had done naught that was in any way amiss. + +The lady, who so foully slandered her fellow, fell with child in the +same year. Her neighbour was avenged upon her, for when her term was +come, she became the mother of two daughters. Sick at heart was she. +She was right sorrowful, and lamented her evil case. + +"Alas," she said, "what shall I do, for I am dishonoured for all +my days. Shamed I am, it is the simple truth. When my lord and his +kinsfolk shall hear of what has chanced, they will never believe me +a stainless wife. They will remember how I judged all women in my +plight. They will recall how I said before my house, that my neighbour +could not have been doubly a mother, unless she had first been doubly +a wife. I have the best reason now to know that I was wrong, and I am +caught in my own snare. She who digs a pit for another, cannot tell +that she may not fall into the hole herself. If you wish to speak +loudly concerning your neighbour, it is best to say nothing of him +but in praise. The only way to keep me from shame, is that one of my +children should die. It is a great sin; but I would rather trust to +the mercy of God, than suffer scorn and reproach for the rest of my +life." + +The women about her comforted her as best they might in this trouble. +They told her frankly that they would not suffer such wrong to be +done, since the slaying of a child was not reckoned a jest. The lady +had a maiden near her person, whom she had long held and nourished. +The damsel was a freeman's daughter, and was greatly loved and +cherished of her mistress. When she saw the lady's tears, and heard +the bitterness of her complaint, anguish went to her heart, like a +knife. She stooped over her lady, striving to bring her comfort. + +"Lady," she said, "take it not so to heart. Give over this grief, for +all will yet be well. You shall deliver me one of these children, and +I will put her so far from you, that you shall never see her again, +nor know shame because of her. I will carry her safe and sound to the +door of a church. There I will lay her down. Some honest man shall +find her, and--please God--will be at the cost of her nourishing." + +Great joy had the lady to hear these words. She promised the maiden +that in recompense of her service, she would grant her such guerdon +as she should wish. The maiden took the babe--yet smiling in her +sleep--and wrapped her in a linen cloth. Above this she set a piece of +sanguine silk, brought by the husband of this dame from a bazaar in +Constantinople--fairer was never seen. With a silken lace they bound +a great ring to the child's arm. This ring was of fine gold, weighing +fully an ounce, and was set with garnets most precious. + +Letters were graven thereon, so that those who found the maid might +understand that she came of a good house. The damsel took the child, +and went out from the chamber. When night was come, and all was still, +she left the town, and sought the high road leading through the +forest. She held on her way, clasping the baby to her breast, till +from afar, to her right hand, she heard the howling of dogs and the +crowing of cocks. She deemed that she was near a town, and went the +lighter for the hope, directing her steps, there, whence the noises +came. Presently the damsel entered in a fair city, where was an Abbey, +both great and rich. This Abbey was worshipfully ordered, with many +nuns in their office and degree, and an Abbess in charge of all. The +maiden gazed upon the mighty house, and considered its towers and +walls, and the church with its belfry. She went swiftly to the door, +and setting the child upon the ground, kneeled humbly to make her +prayer. + +"Lord," said she, "for the sake of Thy Holy Name, if such be Thy will, +preserve this child from death." + +Her petition ended, the maiden looked about her, and saw an ash tree, +planted to give shadow in a sunny place. It was a fair tree, thick and +leafy, and was divided into four strong branches. The maiden took the +child again in her arms, and running to the ash, set her within the +tree. There she left her, commending her to the care of God. So she +returned to her mistress, and told her all that she had done. + +Now in this Abbey was a porter, whose duty it was to open the doors of +the church, before folk came to hear the service of God. This night +he rose at his accustomed hour, lighted candles and lamps, rang the +bells, and set wide the doors. His eyes fell upon the silken stuff +within the ash. He thought at first that some bold thief had hidden +his spoil within the tree. He felt with his hand to discover what it +might be, and found that it was a little child. The porter praised +God for His goodness; he took the babe, and going again to his house, +called to his daughter, who was a widow, with an infant yet in the +cradle. + +"Daughter," he cried, "get from bed at once; light your candle, and +kindle the fire. I bring you a little child, whom I have found within +our ash. Take her to your breast; cherish her against the cold, and +bathe her in warm water." + +The widow did according to her father's will. She kindled a fire, and +taking the babe, washed and cherished her in her need. Very certain +she was, when she saw that rich stuff of crimson samite, and the +golden ring about the arm, that the girl was come of an honourable +race. The next day, when the office was ended, the porter prayed the +Abbess that he might have speech with her as she left the church. He +related his story, and told of the finding of the child. The Abbess +bade him to fetch the child, dressed in such fashion as she was +discovered in the ash. The porter returned to his house, and showed +the babe right gladly to his dame. The Abbess observed the infant +closely, and said that she would be at the cost of her nourishing, +and would cherish her as a sister's child. She commanded the porter +strictly to forget that he took her from the ash. In this manner it +chanced that the maiden was tended of the Abbess. The lady considered +the maid as her niece, and since she was taken from the ash, gave her +the name of Frene. By this name she was known of all, within the Abbey +precincts, where she was nourished. + +When Frene came to that age in which a girl turns to woman, there was +no fairer maiden in Brittany, nor so sweet a damsel. Frank, she was, +and open, but discreet in semblance and in speech. To see her was to +love her, and to prize her smile above the beauty of the world. Now at +Dol there lived a lord of whom much good was spoken. I will tell you +his name. The folk of his country called him Buron. This lord heard +speak of the maiden, and began to love her, for the sweetness men +told of her. As he rode home from some tournament, he passed near the +convent, and prayed the Abbess that he might look upon her niece. The +Abbess gave him his desire. Greatly was the maiden to his mind. +Very fair he found her, sweetly schooled and fashioned, modest and +courteous to all. If he might not win her to his love, he counted +himself the more forlorn. This lord was at his wits end, for he knew +not what to do. If he repaired often to the convent, the Abbess would +consider of the cause of his comings, and he would never again see the +maiden with his eyes. One thing only gave him a little hope. Should he +endow the Abbey of his wealth, he would make it his debtor for ever. +In return he might ask a little room, where he might abide to have +their fellowship, and, at times, withdraw him from the world. This he +did. He gave richly of his goods to the Abbey. Often, in return, he +went to the convent, but for other reasons than for penitence and +peace. He besought the maiden, and with prayers and promises, +persuaded her to set upon him her love. When this lord was assured +that she loved him, on a certain day he reasoned with her in this +manner. + +"Fair friend," said he, "since you have given me your love, come with +me, where I can cherish you before all the world. You know, as well +as I, that if your aunt should perceive our friendship, she would be +passing wrath, and grieve beyond measure. If my counsel seems good, +let us flee together, you with me, and I with you. Certes, you shall +never have cause to regret your trust, and of my riches you shall have +the half." + +When she who loved so fondly heard these words, she granted of her +tenderness what it pleased him to have, and followed after where he +would. Frene fled to her lover's castle, carrying with her that silken +cloth and ring, which might do her service on a day. These the Abbess +had given her again, telling her how one morning at prime she was +found upon an ash, this ring and samite her only wealth, since she was +not her niece. Right carefully had Frene guarded her treasure from +that hour. She shut them closely in a little chest, and this coffret +she bore with her in her flight, for she would neither lose them nor +forget. + +The lord, with whom the maiden fled, loved and cherished her very +dearly. Of all the men and servants of his house, there was not +one--either great or small--but who loved and honoured her for her +simplicity. They lived long together in love and content, till the +fair days passed, and trouble came upon this lord. The knights of his +realm drew together, and many a time urged that he should put away his +friend, and wed with some rich gentlewoman. They would be joyous if a +son were born, to come after to his fief and heritage. The peril was +too great to suffer that he remained a bachelor, and without an heir. +Never more would they hold him as lord, or serve him with a good +heart, if he would not do according to their will. + +There being naught else to do, the lord deferred to this counsel of +his knights, and begged them to name the lady whom he needs must wed. + +"Sir," answered they, "there is a lord of these parts, privy to our +counsel, who has but one child, a maid, his only heir. Broad lands +will he give as her dowry. This damsel's name is Coudre, and in all +this country there is none so fair. Be advised: throw away the ash rod +you carry, and take the hazel as your staff.[1] The ash is a barren +stock; but the hazel is thick with nuts and delight. We shall be +content if you take this maiden as your wife, so it be to the will of +God, and she be given you of her kinsfolk." + +Buron demanded the hand of the lady in marriage, and her father and +kin betrothed her to the lord. Alas! it was hid from all, that these +two were twin sisters. It was Frene's lot to be doubly abandoned, and +to see her lover become her sister's husband. When she learned that +her friend purposed taking to himself a wife, she made no outcry +against his falseness. She continued to serve her lord faithfully, and +was diligent in the business of his house. The sergeant and the varlet +were marvellously wrathful, when they knew that she must go from +amongst them. On the day appointed for the marriage, Buron bade his +friends and acquaintance to the feast. Together with these came +the Archbishop, and those of Dol who held of him their lands. His +betrothed was brought to his home by her mother. Great dread had the +mother because of Frene, for she knew of the love that the lord bore +the maiden, and feared lest her daughter should be a stranger in her +own hall. She spoke to her son-in-law, counselling him to send Frene +from his house, and to find her an honest man for her husband. Thus +there would be quittance between them. Very splendid was the feast. +Whilst all was mirth and jollity, the damsel visited the chambers, to +see that each was ordered to her lord's pleasure. She hid the torment +in her heart, and seemed neither troubled nor downcast. She compassed +the bride with every fair observance, and waited upon her right +daintily. + +[Footnote 1: This is a play on words; Frene in the French, meaning +ash, and Coudre meaning hazel.] + +Her courage was marvellous to that company of lords and ladies, who +observed her curiously. The mother of the bride regarded her also, and +praised her privily. She said aloud that had she known the sweetness +of this lady, she would not have taken her lover from her, nor spoiled +her life for the sake of the bride. The night being come the damsel +entered in the bridal chamber to deck the bed against her lord. She +put off her mantle, and calling the chamberlains, showed them how +their master loved to lie. His bed being softly arrayed, a coverlet +was spread upon the linen sheets. Frene looked upon the coverlet: +in her eyes it showed too mean a garnishing for so fair a lord. +She turned it over in her mind, and going to her coffret she took +therefrom that rich stuff of sanguine silk, and set it on the couch. +This she did not only in honour of her friend, but that the Archbishop +might not despise the house, when he blessed the marriage bed, +according to the rite. When all was ready the mother carried the bride +to that chamber where she should lie, to disarray her for the night. +Looking upon the bed she marked the silken coverlet, for she had never +seen so rich a cloth, save only that in which she wrapped her child. +When she remembered of this thing, her heart turned to water. She +summoned a chamberlain. + +"Tell me," she said, "tell me in good faith where this garniture was +found." + +"Lady," he made reply, "that you shall know. Our damsel spread it on +the bed, because this dossal is richer than the coverlet that was +there before." + +The lady called for the damsel. Frene came before her in haste, being +yet without her mantle. All the mother moved within her, as she plied +her with questions. + +"Fair friend, hide it not a whit from me. Tell me truly where this +fair samite was found; whence came it; who gave it to you? Answer +swiftly, and tell me who bestowed on you this cloth?" + +The damsel made answer to her: + +"Lady, my aunt, the Abbess, gave me this silken stuff, and charged me +to keep it carefully. At the same time she gave me a ring, which those +who put me forth, had bound upon me." + +"Fair friend, may I see this ring?" + +"Certes, lady, I shall be pleased to show it." + +The lady looked closely on the ring, when it was brought. She knew +again her own, and the crimson samite flung upon the bed. No doubt was +in her mind. She knew and was persuaded that Frene was her very child. +All words were spoken, and there was nothing more to hide. + +"Thou art my daughter, fair friend." + +Then for reason of the pity that was hers, she fell to the ground, and +lay in a swoon. When the lady came again to herself, she sent for her +husband, who, all adread, hastened to the chamber. He marvelled the +more sorely when his wife fell at his feet, and embracing him closely, +entreated pardon for the evil that she had done. + +Knowing nothing of her trespass, he made reply, "Wife, what is this? +Between you and me there is nothing to call for forgiveness. Pardon +you may have for whatever fault you please. Tell me plainly what is +your wish." + +"Husband, my offence is so black, that you had better give me +absolution before I tell you the sin. A long time ago, by reason of +lightness and malice, I spoke evil of my neighbour, whenas she bore +two sons at a birth. I fell afterwards into the very pit that I had +digged. Though I told you that I was delivered of a daughter, the +truth is that I had borne two maids. One of these I wrapped in our +stuff of samite, together with the ring you gave me the first time we +met, and caused her to be laid beside a church. Such a sin will out. +The cloth and the ring I have found, and I have recognised our maid, +whom I had lost by my own folly. She is this very damsel--so fair and +amiable to all--whom the knight so greatly loved. Now we have married +the lord to her sister." + +The husband made answer, "Wife, if your sin be double, our joy is +manifold. Very tenderly hath God dealt with us, in giving us back our +child. I am altogether joyous and content to have two daughters for +one. Daughter, come to your father's side." + +The damsel rejoiced greatly to hear this story. Her father tarried no +longer, but seeking his son-in-law, brought him to the Archbishop, and +related the adventure. The knight knew such joy as was never yet. The +Archbishop gave counsel that on the morrow he would part him and her +whom he had joined together. This was done, for in the morning he +severed them, bed and board. Afterwards he married Frene to her +friend, and her father accorded the damsel with a right good heart. +Her mother and sister were with her at the wedding, and for dowry her +father gave her the half of his heritage. When they returned to their +own realm they took Coudre, their daughter, with them. There she was +granted to a lord of those parts, and rich was the feast. + +When this adventure was bruited abroad, and all the story, the Lay of +the Ash Tree was written, so called of the lady, named Frene. + + + + +X + + +THE LAY OF THE HONEYSUCKLE + +With a glad heart and right good mind will I tell the Lay that men +call Honeysuckle; and that the truth may be known of all it shall be +told as many a minstrel has sung it to my ear, and as the scribe hath +written it for our delight. It is of Tristan and Isoude, the Queen. +It is of a love which passed all other love, of love from whence came +wondrous sorrow, and whereof they died together in the self-same day. + +King Mark was sorely wrath with Tristan, his sister's son, and bade +him avoid his realm, by reason of the love he bore the Queen. So +Tristan repaired to his own land, and dwelt for a full year in South +Wales, where he was born. Then since he might not come where he would +be, Tristan took no heed to his ways, but let his life run waste to +Death. Marvel not overmuch thereat, for he who loves beyond measure +must ever be sick in heart and hope, when he may not win according +to his wish. So sick in heart and mind was Tristan that he left his +kingdom, and returned straight to the realm of his banishment, because +that in Cornwall dwelt the Queen. There he hid privily in the deep +forest, withdrawn from the eyes of men; only when the evening was +come, and all things sought their rest, he prayed the peasant and +other mean folk of that country, of their charity to grant him shelter +for the night. From the serf he gathered tidings of the King. These +gave again to him what they, in turn, had taken from some outlawed +knight. Thus Tristan learned that when Pentecost was come King Mark +purposed to hold high Court at Tintagel, and keep the feast with pomp +and revelry; moreover that thither would ride Isoude, the Queen. + +When Tristan heard this thing he rejoiced greatly, since the Queen +might not adventure through the forest, except he saw her with his +eyes. After the King had gone his way, Tristan entered within the +wood, and sought the path by which the Queen must come. There he cut a +wand from out a certain hazel-tree, and having trimmed and peeled it +of its bark, with his dagger he carved his name upon the wood. This he +placed upon her road, for well he knew that should the Queen but mark +his name she would bethink her of her friend. Thus had it chanced +before. For this was the sum of the writing set upon the wand, for +Queen Isoude's heart alone: how that in this wild place Tristan had +lurked and waited long, so that he might look upon her face, since +without her he was already dead. Was it not with them as with the +Honeysuckle and the Hazel tree she was passing by! So sweetly laced +and taken were they in one close embrace, that thus they might remain +whilst life endured. But should rough hands part so fond a clasping, +the hazel would wither at the root, and the honeysuckle must fail. +Fair friend, thus is the case with us, nor you without me, nor I +without you. + +Now the Queen fared at adventure down the forest path. She spied the +hazel wand set upon her road, and well she remembered the letters +and the name. She bade the knights of her company to draw rein, and +dismount from their palfreys, so that they might refresh themselves a +little. When her commandment was done she withdrew from them a space, +and called to her Brangwaine, her maiden, and own familiar friend. +Then she hastened within the wood, to come on him whom more she loved +than any living soul. How great the joy between these twain, that once +more they might speak together softly, face to face. Isoude showed him +her delight. She showed in what fashion she strove to bring peace +and concord betwixt Tristan and the King, and how grievously his +banishment had weighed upon her heart. Thus sped the hour, till it +was time for them to part; but when these lovers freed them from +the other's arms, the tears were wet upon their cheeks. So Tristan +returned to Wales, his own realm, even as his uncle bade. But for the +joy that he had had of her, his friend, for her sweet face, and for +the tender words that she had spoken, yea, and for that writing upon +the wand, to remember all these things, Tristan, that cunning harper, +wrought a new Lay, as shortly I have told you. Goatleaf, men call this +song in English. Chevrefeuille it is named in French; but Goatleaf +or Honeysuckle, here you have the very truth in the Lay that I have +spoken. + + + + +XI + + +THE LAY OF EQUITAN + +In ancient days many a noble lord lived in Brittany beyond the Seas. +By reason of their courtesy and nobleness they would gladly keep +in remembrance the deeds that were done in the land. That these +marvellous things should not be forgotten they fashioned them into +Lays. Amongst these Lays I have heard tell of one which is not made to +die as though it had never been. + +Equitan, lord of Nantes, was a loyal and courteous gentleman, of great +worth, beloved by all in his own country. He was set on pleasure, and +was Love's lover, as became a gentle knight. Like many others who dote +on woman, he observed neither sense nor measure in love. But it is in +the very nature of Love that proportion cannot enter into the matter. + +Equitan had for seneschal a right brave and loyal knight, who was +captain of his army, and did justice in his realm. He was often abroad +upon his master's business, for the King would not forego his delight +for any reason whatever. To dance, to hunt, to fish within the +river--this was all his joy. This seneschal was married to a wife, +by whom great evil came upon the land. Very desirable was the lady; +passing tender of body, and sweet of vesture, coiffed and fretted with +gold. Her eyes were blue; her face warmly coloured, with a fragrant +mouth, and a dainty nose. Certainly she had no peer in all the realm. +The King had heard much in praise of this lady and many a time +saluted her upon the way. He had also sent her divers gifts. Often he +considered in his mind how best he might get speech with the dame. For +his privy pleasure this amorous King went to chase in that country +where the seneschal had his castle. The lady being in her own house, +Equitan craved a lodging for the night. By this means when the hunt +was done, he could speak with her, and show what was in his heart. +Equitan found the lady as discreet as courteous. He looked closely +upon her, for she was fair of face and person, and sweet of semblance +and address. Love bound him captive to his car. The god loosed a shaft +which entered deeply in his breast. The arrow pierced to his heart, +and from thenceforth he cared nothing for measure, or kingship, or +delight. Equitan was so surprised of the lady, that he remained silent +and pensive. He heard nothing, and nothing he could do. All night he +lay in unrest upon the bed, reproaching himself for what had come to +pass. + +"Alas," said he, "what evil fate has led me into this land! The sight +only of this lady has put such anguish into my heart that my members +fail beneath me. It is Love, I deem, who rides me thus cruelly. But +if I love this lady I shall do a great wrong. She is the wife of my +seneschal, and it is my duty to keep the same love and faith to him as +I would wish him to observe with me. If by any means I could know what +is in her mind, I should be the easier, for torment is doubled that +you bear alone. There is not a dame, however curst, but would rather +love than not; for if she were a contemner of love where would be her +courtesy? But if she loves, there is not a woman under the sky who +would not suck thereout all the advantage that she may. If the matter +came to the ears of the seneschal, he ought not to think too hardly +of me. He cannot hope to keep such treasure for himself alone; and, +certes, I shall claim my portion." + +Equitan tossed on his bed, and sighed. His thoughts were still on the +lady, so that in a little he said, "I think of the ford, before I come +to the river. I go too quickly, for I know not yet whether the lady +will take me as her friend. But know I will as swiftly as I can, since +I cannot get rest or sleep. I will come before her as soon as it is +day, and if she feels as I feel, the sooner I shall be rid of my +pain." + +The King kept vigil till the daylight came at last. He arose and went +forth, as if to the chase. He returned presently, telling that he +was sick, and going straight to his chamber, lay upon his bed. The +seneschal was very troubled, for he could not imagine the sickness of +which his master felt the pangs. He counselled his wife to seek their +guest, that she might cheer and comfort him in his trouble. When they +were alone the King opened to her his heart. He told her that he was +dying for her love, and that if she had no more than friendship to +offer, he preferred death before life. + +"Sire," replied the dame, "I require a little time to think of what +you say, for I cannot answer yes or no, without thought, in a business +of this moment. I am not of your wealth, and you are too high a lord, +for your love to do more than rest lightly on me. When you have had +your desire, it will as lightly fly away. My sorrow would be overlong, +if I should love you, and grant you what you wish. It is much the +best that between you and me love should not be spoken of. You are +a puissant prince; my husband is one of your vassals, and faith and +trust should bind us--not the dangerous bond of love. Love is only +lasting between like and like. Better is the love of an honest man--so +he be of sense and worth--than that of a prince or king, with no +loyalty in him. She who sets her love more highly than she can reach, +may pluck no fruit from the tree. The rich man deems that love is his +of right. He prays little of his friend, for he thinks none dare +take her from his hand, and that her tenderness is his by prize of +lordship." + +When she had ceased, Equitan made answer, "Lady, I can offer you but +short thanks for your words, since they savour of scant courtesy. You +speak of love as a burgess makes a bargain. Those who desire to get, +rather than to give, often find that they have the worser half of the +business. There is no lady under heaven--so she be courteous and kind +and of a good heart--but would grant her grace to a true lover, even +though she have beneath her cloak only a rich prince in his castle. +Those who care but for a fresh face--tricksters in love as a cozener +with dice--are justly flouted and deceived, as oftentimes we see. None +wastes pity on him who receives the stripes he deserves. Dear lady, +let me make myself plain. Do not regard me as your King; look on me as +your servant and your friend. I give my word and plight my troth that +all my happiness shall be found in your pleasure. Let me not die for +your love. You shall be the Dame, and I the page; you shall be the +scornful beauty, and I the prayer at your knee." + +The King prayed the lady so urgently, so tenderly he sued for grace, +that at the last she assured him of her love, and gave him the gift +of her heart. They granted rings one to another, and pledged affiance +between them. They kept this faith, and guarded this love, till they +died together, and there was an end to all. + +Equitan and the lady loved for a great while without it coming to the +ears of any. When the King desired to have speech of his friend, +he told his household that he would be alone, since it was the day +appointed for his bleeding. The King having shut the doors of his +chamber, there was none so bold as to enter therein, save he were +bidden of his lord. Whilst he was busied in this fashion, the +seneschal sat in open court to hear the pleas and right the wrong. He +was as much to the King's mind, as his wife was to the King's heart. +The lord was so assotted upon the lady that he would neither take +to himself a wife, nor listen to a word upon the matter. His people +blamed him loudly, so loudly that it came to the ears of the lady. She +was passing heavy, for she feared greatly that the barons would have +their way. When next she had speech with Equitan, in place of the kiss +and sweetness of her customary greeting, she came before him making +great sorrow and in tears. The King inquiring the reason of her +dolour, the lady replied, "Sire, I lament our love, and the trouble I +always said would be mine. You are about to wed the daughter of some +King, and my good days are over. Everybody says so, and I know it to +be true. What will become of me when you put me away! I will die, +rather than lose you, for I may have no other comfort." + +The King made answer very tenderly, "Fair friend, you need not fear. +There will never be wife of mine to put you from me. I shall never +wed, except your husband die, and then it is you who would be my queen +and lady. I will leave you for no other dame." + +The lady thanked him sweetly for his words. Much was she beholden to +him in her heart. Since she was assured that he would not leave her +for any other, she turned over swiftly in her mind the profit that +would come from her husband's death. Much happiness might be bought at +a little cost, if Equitan would lend his aid. + +The King made answer that he would do her will to the utmost of his +power, whether her counsel were for good or evil. + +"Sire," said the lady, "let it please you to hunt the forest within +the country where I dwell. You can lodge in my lord's castle, and +there you must be bled. Three days after your surgery is done, you +must call for your bath. My lord shall be bled with you, so that he +may go to his bathing at the same time. It will be your part to keep +him at your side, and make him your constant companion. It will be +mine to heat the water, and to carry the baths to your chamber. My +husband's bath shall boil so fiercely, that no breathing man, having +entered therein, may come forth living. When he is dead you must call +for your people, and show them how the seneschal has died suddenly in +his bath." + +Because of his love the King granted her desire, and promised to do +according to her will. Before three months were done the King rode to +the chase within the lady's realm. He caused surgeons to bleed him for +his health, and the seneschal with him. He said that he would take his +bath on the third day, and the seneschal required his, too, to be made +ready. The lady caused the water to be heated, and carried the baths +to the chamber. According to her device she set a bath beside each +bed, filling with boiling water that bath which her lord should enter. +Her lord had gone forth for a little, so for a space the King and the +lady were alone. They sat on the husband's bed, and looked tenderly +each on the other, near by that heated bath. The door of the chamber +was kept by a young damsel to give them warning. The seneschal made +haste to return, and would have struck on the door of the chamber, but +was stayed by the maiden. He put her by, and in his impatience flung +the door wide open. Entering he found his master and his wife clasped +in each other's arms. When the King saw the seneschal he had no +thought but to hide his dishonour. He started up, and sprang with +joined feet in the bath that was filled with boiling water. There he +perished miserably, in the very snare he had spread for another, who +was safe and sound. The seneschal marked what had happened to the +King. In his rage he turned to his wife, and laying hands upon her +thrust her, head first, in the self-same bath. So they died together, +the King first, and the lady afterwards, with him. + +Those who are willing to listen to fair words, may learn from this +ensample, that he who seeks another's ill often brings the evil upon +himself. + +As I have told you before, of this adventure the Bretons made the Lay +of Equitan, the lady whom he loved, and of their end. + + + + +XII + + +THE LAY OF MILON + +He who would tell divers tales must know how to vary the tune. To +win the favour of any, he must speak to the understanding of all. I +purpose in this place to show you the story of Milon, and--since few +words are best--I will set out the adventure as briefly as I may. + +Milon was born in South Wales. So great was his prowess that from the +day he was dubbed knight there was no champion who could stand before +him in the lists. He was a passing fair knight, open and brave, +courteous to his friends, and stern to his foes. Men praised his name +in whatever realm they talked of gallant deeds--Ireland, Norway, and +Wales, yea, from Jutland even to Albania. Since he was praised by the +frank, he was therefore envied of the mean. Nevertheless, by reason of +his skill with the spear, he was counted a very worshipful knight, and +was honourably entreated by many a prince in divers lands. + +In Milon's own realm there lived a lord whose name has gone from +mind. With this baron dwelt his daughter, a passing fair and gracious +damsel. Much talk had this maiden heard of Milon's knightly deeds, so +that she began to set her thoughts upon him, because of the good men +spoke of him. She sent him a message by a sure hand, saying that if +her love was to his mind, sweetly would it be to her heart. Milon +rejoiced greatly when he knew this thing. He thanked the lady for her +words, giving her love again in return for her own, and swearing that +he would never depart therefrom any day of his days. Beyond this +courteous answer Milon bestowed on the messenger costly gifts, and +made him promises that were richer still. + +"Friend," said he, "of your charity I pray you that I may have speech +with my friend, in such a fashion that none shall know of our meeting. +Carry her this, my golden ring. Tell her, on my part, that so she +pleases she shall come to me, or, if it be her better pleasure, I will +go to her." + +The messenger bade farewell, and returned to his lady. He placed the +ring in her hand, saying that he had done her will, as he was bidden +to do. + +Right joyous was the damsel to know that Milon's love was tender as +her own. She required her friend to come for speech within the private +garden of her house, where she was wont to take her delight. Milon +came at her commandment. He came so often, and so dearly she loved +him, that in the end she gave him all that maid may give. When the +damsel perceived how it was with her, she sent messages to her friend, +telling him of her case, and making great sorrow. + +"I have lost my father and all his wealth," said the lady, "for when +he hears of this matter he will make of me an example. Either I shall +be tormented with the sword, or else he will sell me as a slave in a +far country." + +(For such was the usage of our fathers in the days of this tale). + +Milon grieved sorely, and made answer that he would do the thing the +damsel thought most seemly to be done. + +"When the child is born," replied the lady, "you must carry him +forthwith to my sister. She is a rich dame, pitiful and good, and is +wedded to a lord of Northumberland. You will send messages with the +babe--both in writing and by speech--that the little innocent is her +sister's child. Whether it be a boy or girl his mother will have +suffered much because of him, and for her sister's sake you will pray +her to cherish the babe. Beyond this I shall set your signet by a lace +about his neck, and write letters wherein shall be made plain the name +of his sire, and the sad story of his mother. When he shall have grown +tall, and of an age to understand these matters, his aunt will give +him your ring, and rehearse to him the letter. If this be done, +perchance the orphan will not be fatherless all his days." + +Milon approved the counsel of the lady, and when her time had come she +was brought to bed of a boy. The old nurse who tended her mistress +was privy to the damsel's inmost mind. So warily she went to work, so +cunning was she in gloss and concealment, that none within the palace +knew that there was aught to hide. The damsel looked upon her boy, and +saw that he was very fair. She laced the ring about his neck, and set +the letter that it were death to find, within a silken chatelaine. The +child was then placed in his cradle, swathed close in white linen. A +pillow of feathers was put beneath his head, and over all was laid a +warm coverlet, wadded with fur. In this fashion the ancient nurse +gave the babe to his father, who awaited him within the garden. Milon +commended the child to his men, charging them to carry him loyally, by +such towns as they knew, to that lady beyond the Humber. The servitors +set forth, bearing the infant with them. Seven times a day they +reposed them in their journey, so that the women might nourish +the babe, and bathe and tend him duly. They served their lord so +faithfully, keeping such watch upon the way, that at the last they +won to the lady to whom they were bidden. The lady received them +courteously, as became her breeding. She broke the seal of the letter, +and when she was assured of what was therein, marvellously she +cherished the infant. These having bestowed the boy in accordance with +their lord's commandment, returned to their own land. + +Milon went forth from his realm to serve beyond the seas for guerdon. +His friend remained within her house and was granted by her father in +marriage to a right rich baron of that country. Though this baron was +a worthy knight, justly esteemed of all his fellows, the damsel was +grieved beyond measure when she knew her father's will. She called to +mind the past, and regretted that Milon had gone from the country, +since he would have helped her in her need. + +"Alas!" said the lady, "what shall I do? I doubt that I am lost, for +my lord will find that his bride is not a maid. If this becomes known +they will make me a bondwoman for all my days. Would that my friend +were here to free me from this coil. It were good for me to die rather +than to live, but by no means can I escape from their hands. They +have set warders about me, men, old and young, whom they call my +chamberlains, contemners of love, who delight themselves in sadness. +But endure it I must, for, alas, I know not how to die." + +So on the appointed day the lady was wedded to the baron, and her +husband took her to dwell with him in his fief. + +When Milon returned to his own country he was right heavy and +sorrowful to learn of this marriage. He lamented his wretched case, +but in this he found comfort, that he was not far from the realm where +the lady abode whom so tenderly he loved. Milon commenced to think +within himself how best he might send letters to the damsel that he +was come again to his home, yet so that none should have knowledge +thereof. He wrote a letter, and sealed it with his seal. This message +he made fast to the neck, and hid within the plumage of a swan that +was long his, and was greatly to his heart. He bade his squire to +come, and made him his messenger. + +"Change thy raiment swiftly," said he, "and hasten to the castle of my +friend. Take with thee my swan, and see that none, neither servant nor +handmaid, delivers the bird to my lady, save thyself alone." + +The squire did according to his lord's commandment. He made him ready +quickly, and went forth, bearing the swan with him. He went by the +nearest road, and passing through the streets of the city, came before +the portal of the castle. In answer to his summons the porter drew +near. + +"Friend," said he, "hearken to me. I am of Caerleon, and a fowler by +craft. Within my nets I have snared the most marvellous swan in the +world. This wondrous bird I would bestow forthwith upon your lady, but +perforce I must offer her the gift with my own hand." + +"Friend," replied the porter, "fowlers are not always welcomed of +ladies. If you come with me I will bring you where I may know whether +it pleases my lady to have speech with you and to receive your gift." + +The porter entered in the hall, where he found none but two lords +seated at a great table, playing chess for their delight. He swiftly +returned on his steps, and the fowler with him, so furtively withal +that the lords were not disturbed at their game, nor perceived aught +of the matter. They went therefore to the chamber of the lady. In +answer to their call the door was opened to them by a maiden, who +led them before her dame. When the swan was proffered to the lady +it pleased her to receive the gift. She summoned a varlet of her +household and gave the bird to his charge, commanding him to keep it +safely, and to see that it ate enough and to spare. + +"Lady," said the servitor, "I will do your bidding. We shall never +receive from any fowler on earth such another bird as this. The swan +is fit to serve at a royal table, for the bird is plump as he is +fair." + +The varlet put the swan in his lady's hands. She took the bird kindly, +and smoothing his head and neck, felt the letter that was hidden +beneath its feathers. The blood pricked in her veins, for well she +knew that the writing was sent her by her friend. She caused the +fowler to be given of her bounty, and bade the men to go forth from +her chamber. When they had parted the lady called a maiden to her aid. +She broke the seal, and unfastening the letter, came upon the name of +Milon at the head. She kissed the name a hundred times through her +tears. When she might read the writing she learned of the great pain +and dolour that her lover suffered by day and by night. In you--he +wrote--is all my pleasure, and in your white hands it lies to heal me +or to slay. Strive to find a plan by which we may speak as friend to +friend, if you would have me live. The knight prayed her in his letter +to send him an answer by means of the swan. If the bird were well +guarded, and kept without provand for three days, he would of a surety +fly back to the place from whence he came, with any message that the +lady might lace about his neck. + +When the damsel had considered the writing, and understood what was +put therein, she commanded that her bird should be tended carefully, +and given plenteously to eat and to drink. She held him for a month +within her chamber, but this was less from choice, than for the craft +that was necessary to obtain the ink and parchment requisite for her +writing. At the end she wrote a letter according to her heart, and +sealed it with her ring. The lady caused the swan to fast for three +full days; then having concealed the message about his neck, let him +take his flight. The bird was all anhungered for food, and remembering +well the home from which he drew, he returned thither as quickly as +his wings might bear him. + +He knew again his town, and his master's house, and descended to the +ground at Milon's very feet. Milon rejoiced greatly when he marked his +own. He caught the bird by his wings, and crying for his steward, bade +him give the swan to eat. The knight removed the missive from the +messenger's neck. He glanced from head to head of the letter, seeking +the means that he hoped to find, and the salutation he so tenderly +wished. Sweet to his heart was the writing, for the lady wrote that +without him there was no joy in her life, and since it was his desire +to hear by the swan, it would be her pleasure also. + +For twenty years the swan was made the messenger of these two lovers, +who might never win together. There was no speech between them, save +that carried by the bird. They caused the swan to fast for three days, +and then sent him on his errand. He to whom the letter came, saw to +it that the messenger was fed to heart's desire. Many a time the swan +went upon his journey, for however strictly the lady was held of her +husband, there was none who had suspicion of a bird. + +The dame beyond the Humber nourished and tended the boy committed to +her charge with the greatest care. When he was come to a fitting age +she made him to be knighted of her lord, for goodly and serviceable +was the lad. On the same day the aunt read over to him the letter, and +put in his hand the ring. She told him the name of his mother, and his +father's story. In all the world there was no worthier knight, nor a +more chivalrous and gallant gentleman. The lad hearkened diligently to +the lady's tale. He rejoiced greatly to hear of his father's prowess, +and was proud beyond measure of his renown. He considered within +himself, saying to his own heart, that much should be required of his +father's son, and that he would not be worthy of his blood if he did +not endeavour to merit his name. He determined therefore that he would +leave his country, and seek adventure as a knight errant, beyond the +sea. The varlet delayed no longer than the evening. On the morrow he +bade farewell to his aunt, who having warned and admonished him for +his good, gave him largely of her wealth, to bring him on his way. He +rode to Southampton, that he might find a ship equipped for sea, and +so came to Barfleur. Without any tarrying the lad went straight to +Brittany, where he spent his money and himself in feasts and in +tourneys. The rich men of the land were glad of his friendship, for +there was none who bore himself better in the press with spear or with +sword. What he took from the rich he bestowed on such knights as were +poor and luckless. These loved him greatly, since he gained largely +and spent freely, granting of his wealth to all. Wherever this knight +sojourned in the realm he bore away the prize. So debonair was he and +chivalrous that his fame and praise crossed the water, and were noised +abroad in his own land. Folk told how a certain knight from beyond the +Humber, who had passed the sea in quest of wealth and honour, had so +done, that by reason of his prowess, his liberality, and his modesty, +men called him the Knight Peerless, since they did not know his name. + +This praise of the good knight, and of his deeds, came to be heard of +Milon. Very dolent was he and sorely troubled that so young a knight +should be esteemed above his fathers. He marvelled greatly that the +stout spears of the past had not put on their harness and broken a +lance for their ancient honour. One thing he determined, that he +would cross the sea without delay, so that he might joust with the +dansellon, and abate his pride. In wrath and anger he purposed to +fight, to beat his adversary from the saddle, and bring him at last +to shame. After this was ended he would seek his son, of whom he had +heard nothing, since he had gone from his aunt's castle. Milon caused +his friend to know of his wishes. He opened out to her all his +thought, and craved her permission to depart. This letter he sent by +the swan, commending the bird to her care. + +When the lady heard of her lover's purpose, she thanked him for his +courtesy, for greatly was his counsel to her mind. She approved his +desire to quit the realm for the sake of his honour, and far from +putting let and hindrance in his path, trusted that in the end he +would bring again her son. Since Milon was assured of his friend's +goodwill, he arrayed himself richly, and crossing the sea to Normandy, +came afterwards into the land of the Bretons. There he sought +the friendship of the lords of that realm, and fared to all the +tournaments of which he might hear. Milon bore himself proudly, and +gave graciously of his wealth, as though he were receiving a gift. +He sojourned till the winter was past in that land, he, and a brave +company of knights whom he held in his house with him. When Easter +had come, and the season that men give to tourneys and wars and the +righting of their private wrongs, Milon considered how he could meet +with the knight whom men called Peerless. At that time a tournament +was proclaimed to be held at Mont St. Michel. Many a Norman and Breton +rode to the game; knights of Flanders and of France were there in +plenty, but few fared from England. Milon drew to the lists amongst +the first. He inquired diligently of the young champion, and all men +were ready to tell from whence he came, and of his harness, and of the +blazon on his shield. At length the knight appeared in the lists and +Milon looked upon the adversary he so greatly desired to see. Now in +this tournament a knight could joust with that lord who was set over +against him, or he could seek to break a lance with his chosen foe. A +player must gain or lose, and he might find himself opposed either +by his comrade or his enemy. Milon did well and worshipfully in the +press, and was praised of many that day. But the Knight Peerless +carried the cry from all his fellows, for none might stand before him, +nor rival him in skill and address. Milon observed him curiously. The +lad struck so heavily, he thrust home so shrewdly, that Milon's hatred +changed to envy as he watched. Very comely showed the varlet, and +much to Milon's mind. The older knight set himself over against the +champion, and they met together in the centre of the field. Milon +struck his adversary so fiercely, that the lance splintered in his +gauntlet; but the young knight kept his seat without even losing a +stirrup. In return his spear was aimed with such cunning that he bore +his antagonist to the ground. Milon lay upon the earth bareheaded, for +his helmet was unlaced in the shock. His hair and beard showed +white to all, and the varlet was heavy to look on him whom he had +overthrown. He caught the destrier by the bridle, and led him before +the stricken man. + +"Sir," said he, "I pray you to get upon your horse. I am right grieved +and vexed that I should have done this wrong. Believe me that it was +wrought unwittingly." + +Milon sprang upon his steed. He approved the courtesy of his +adversary, and looking upon the hand that held his bridle, he knew +again his ring. He made inquiry of the lad. + +"Friend," said he, "hearken to me. Tell me now the name of thy sire. +How art thou called; who is thy mother? I have seen much, and gone to +and fro about the world. All my life I have journeyed from realm to +realm, by reason of tourneys and quarrels and princes' wars, yet never +once by any knight have I been borne from my horse. This day I am +overthrown by a boy, and yet I cannot help but love thee." + +The varlet answered, "I know little of my father. I understand that +his name is Milon, and that he was a knight of Wales. He loved the +daughter of a rich man, and was loved again. My mother bore me in +secret, and caused me to be carried to Northumberland, where I was +taught and tended. An old aunt was at the costs of my nourishing. She +kept me at her side, till of all her gifts she gave me horse and arms, +and sent me here, where I have remained. In hope and wish I purpose to +cross the sea, and return to my own realm. There I would seek out my +father, and learn how it stands between him and my mother. I will show +him my golden ring, and I will tell him of such privy matters that he +may not deny our kinship, but must love me as a son, and ever hold me +dear." + +When Milon heard these words he could endure them no further. He got +him swiftly from his horse, and taking the lad by the fringe of his +hauberk, he cried, "Praise be to God, for now am I healed. Fair +friend, by my faith thou art my very son, for whom I came forth from +my own land, and have sought through all this realm." + +The varlet climbed from the saddle, and stood upon his feet. Father +and son kissed each other tenderly, with many comfortable words. Their +love was fair to see, and those who looked upon their meeting, wept +for joy and pity. + + +Milon and his son departed from the tournament so soon as it came +to an end, for the knight desired greatly to speak to the varlet at +leisure, and to open before him all his mind. They rode to their +hostel, and with the knights of their fellowship, passed the hours in +mirth and revelry. Milon spoke to the lad of his mother. He told him +of their long love, and how she was given by her father in marriage to +a baron of his realm. He rehearsed the years of separation, accepted +by both with a good heart, and of the messenger who carried letters +between them, when there was none they dared to trust in, save only +the swan. + +The son made answer, + +"In faith, fair father, let us return to our own land. There I will +slay this husband, and you shall yet be my mother's lord." + +This being accorded between them, on the morrow they made them ready +for the journey, and bidding farewell to their friends, set forth for +Wales. They embarked in a propitious hour, for a fair wind carried the +ship right swiftly to its haven. They had not ridden far upon their +road, when they met a certain squire of the lady's household on his +way to Brittany, bearing letters to Milon. His task was done long +before sundown in chancing on the knight. He gave over the sealed +writing with which he was charged, praying the knight to hasten to his +friend without any tarrying, since her husband was in his grave. Milon +rejoiced greatly when he knew this thing. He showed the message to his +son, and pressed forward without pause or rest. They made such speed, +that at the end they came to the castle where the lady had her +lodging. Light of heart was she when she clasped again her child. +These two fond lovers sought neither countenance of their kin, nor +counsel of any man. Their son handselled them together, and gave the +mother to his sire. From the day they were wed they dwelt in wealth +and in sweetness to the end of their lives. + +Of their love and content the minstrel wrought this Lay. I, also, who +have set it down in writing, have won guerdon enough just by telling +over the tale. + + + + +XIII + + +THE LAY OF YONEC + +Since I have commenced I would not leave any of these Lays untold. +The stories that I know I would tell you forthwith. My hope is now to +rehearse to you the story of Yonec, the son of Eudemarec, his mother's +first born child. + +In days of yore there lived in Britain a rich man, old and full of +years, who was lord of the town and realm of Chepstow. This town is +builded on the banks of the Douglas, and is renowned by reason of many +ancient sorrows which have there befallen. When he was well stricken +in years this lord took to himself a wife, that he might have children +to come after him in his goodly heritage. The damsel, who was bestowed +on this wealthy lord, came of an honourable house, and was kind and +courteous, and passing fair. She was beloved by all because of her +beauty, and none was more sweetly spoken of from Chepstow to Lincoln, +yea, or from there to Ireland. Great was their sin who married the +maiden to this aged man. Since she was young and gay, he shut her fast +within his tower, that he might the easier keep her to himself. He set +in charge of the damsel his elder sister, a widow, to hold her more +surely in ward. These two ladies dwelt alone in the tower, together +with their women, in a chamber by themselves. There the damsel might +have speech of none, except at the bidding of the ancient dame. More +than seven years passed in this fashion. The lady had no children for +her solace, and she never went forth from the castle to greet her +kinsfolk and her friends. Her husband's jealousy was such that when +she sought her bed, no chamberlain or usher was permitted in her +chamber to light the candles. The lady became passing heavy. She spent +her days in sighs and tears. Her loveliness began to fail, for she +gave no thought to her person. Indeed at times she hated the very +shadow of that beauty which had spoiled all her life. + +Now when April had come with the gladness of the birds, this lord rose +early on a day to take his pleasure in the woods. He bade his sister +to rise from her bed to make the doors fast behind him. She did his +will, and going apart, commenced to read the psalter that she carried +in her hand. The lady awoke, and shamed the brightness of the sun with +her tears. She saw that the old woman was gone forth from the chamber, +so she made her complaint without fear of being overheard. + +"Alas," said she, "in an ill hour was I born. My lot is hard to be +shut in this tower, never to go out till I am carried to my grave. Of +whom is this jealous lord fearful that he holds me so fast in prison? +Great is a man's folly always to have it in mind that he may be +deceived. I cannot go to church, nor hearken to the service of God. If +I might talk to folk, or have a little pleasure in my life, I should +show the more tenderness to my husband, as is my wish. Very greatly +are my parents and my kin to blame for giving me to this jealous old +man, and making us one flesh. I cannot even look to become a widow, +for he will never die. In place of the waters of baptism, certainly he +was plunged in the flood of the Styx. His nerves are like iron, and +his veins quick with blood as those of a young man. Often have I heard +that in years gone by things chanced to the sad, which brought their +sorrows to an end. A knight would meet with a maiden, fresh and fair +to his desire. Damsels took to themselves lovers, discreet and brave, +and were blamed of none. Moreover since these ladies were not seen of +any, except their friends, who was there to count them blameworthy! +Perchance I deceive myself, and in spite of all the tales, such +adventures happened to none. Ah, if only the mighty God would but +shape the world to my wish!" + +When the lady had made her plaint, as you have known, the shadow of a +great bird darkened the narrow window, so that she marvelled what it +might mean. This falcon flew straightway into the chamber, jessed and +hooded from the glove, and came where the dame was seated. Whilst +the lady yet wondered upon him, the tercel became a young and comely +knight before her eyes. The lady marvelled exceedingly at this +sorcery. Her blood turned to water within her, and because of her +dread she hid her face in her hands. By reason of his courtesy the +knight first sought to persuade her to put away her fears. + +"Lady," said he, "be not so fearful. To you this hawk shall be as +gentle as a dove. If you will listen to my words I will strive to make +plain what may now be dark. I have come in this shape to your tower +that I may pray you of your tenderness to make of me your friend. I +have loved you for long, and in my heart have esteemed your love above +anything in the world. Save for you I have never desired wife or maid, +and I shall find no other woman desirable, until I die. I should have +sought you before, but I might not come, nor even leave my own realm, +till you called me in your need. Lady, in charity, take me as your +friend." + +The lady took heart and courage whilst she hearkened to these words. +Presently she uncovered her face, and made answer. She said that +perchance she would be willing to give him again his hope, if only she +had assurance of his faith in God. This she said because of her fear, +but in her heart she loved him already by reason of his great beauty. +Never in her life had she beheld so goodly a youth, nor a knight more +fair. + +"Lady," he replied, "you ask rightly. For nothing that man can give +would I have you doubt my faith and affiance. I believe truly in God, +the Maker of all, who redeemed us from the woe brought on us by our +father Adam, in the eating of that bitter fruit. This God is and was +and ever shall be the life and light of us poor sinful men. If you +still give no credence to my word, ask for your chaplain; tell him +that since you are sick you greatly desire to hear the Service +appointed by God to heal the sinner of his wound. I will take your +semblance, and receive the Body of the Lord. You will thus be +certified of my faith, and never have reason to mistrust me more." + +When the sister of that ancient lord returned from her prayers to the +chamber, she found that the lady was awake. She told her that since it +was time to get her from bed, she would make ready her vesture. +The lady made answer that she was sick, and begged her to warn the +chaplain, for greatly she feared that she might die. The aged dame +replied, + +"You must endure as best you may, for my lord has gone to the woods, +and none will enter in the tower, save me." + +Right distressed was the lady to hear these words. She called a +woman's wiles to her aid, and made seeming to swoon upon her bed. This +was seen by the sister of her lord, and much was she dismayed. She set +wide the doors of the chamber, and summoned the priest. The chaplain +came as quickly as he was able, carrying with him the Lord's Body. The +knight received the Gift, and drank of the Wine of that chalice; then +the priest went his way, and the old woman made fast the door behind +him. + +The knight and the lady were greatly at their ease; a comelier and a +blither pair were never seen. They had much to tell one to the other, +but the hours passed till it was time for the knight to go again to +his own realm. He prayed the dame to give him leave to depart, and she +sweetly granted his prayer, yet so only that he promised to return +often to her side. + +"Lady," he made answer, "so you please to require me at any hour, you +may be sure that I shall hasten at your pleasure. But I beg you to +observe such measure in the matter, that none may do us wrong. This +old woman will spy upon us night and day, and if she observes our +friendship, will certainly show it to her lord. Should this evil +come upon us, for both it means separation, and for me, most surely, +death." + +The knight returned to his realm, leaving behind him the happiest lady +in the land. On the morrow she rose sound and well, and went lightly +through the week. She took such heed to her person, that her former +beauty came to her again. The tower that she was wont to hate as her +prison, became to her now as a pleasant lodging, that she would not +leave for any abode and garden on earth. There she could see her +friend at will, when once her lord had gone forth from the chamber. +Early and late, at morn and eve, the lovers met together. God grant +her joy was long, against the evil day that came. + +The husband of the lady presently took notice of the change in +his wife's fashion and person. He was troubled in his soul, and +misdoubting his sister, took her apart to reason with her on a day. +He told her of his wonder that his dame arrayed her so sweetly, and +inquired what this should mean. The crone answered that she knew no +more than he, "for we have very little speech one with another. She +sees neither kin nor friend; but, now, she seems quite content to +remain alone in her chamber." + +The husband made reply, + +"Doubtless she is content, and well content. But by my faith, we must +do all we may to discover the cause. Hearken to me. Some morning when +I have risen from bed, and you have shut the doors upon me, make +pretence to go forth, and let her think herself alone. You must hide +yourself in a privy place, where you can both hear and see. We shall +then learn the secret of this new found joy." + +Having devised this snare the twain went their ways. Alas, for those +who were innocent of their counsel, and whose feet would soon be +tangled in the net. + +Three days after, this husband pretended to go forth from his house. +He told his wife that the King had bidden him by letters to his Court, +but that he should return speedily. He went from the chamber, making +fast the door. His sister arose from her bed, and hid behind her +curtains, where she might see and hear what so greedily she desired +to know. The lady could not sleep, so fervently she wished for her +friend. The knight came at her call, but he might not tarry, nor +cherish her more than one single hour. Great was the joy between them, +both in word and tenderness, till he could no longer stay. All this +the crone saw with her eyes, and stored in her heart. She watched the +fashion in which he came, and the guise in which he went. But she was +altogether fearful and amazed that so goodly a knight should wear the +semblance of a hawk. When the husband returned to his house--for +he was near at hand--his sister told him that of which she was the +witness, and of the truth concerning the knight. Right heavy was he +and wrathful. Straightway he contrived a cunning gin for the slaying +of this bird. He caused four blades of steel to be fashioned, with +point and edge sharper than the keenest razor. These he fastened +firmly together, and set them securely within that window, by which +the tercel would come to his lady. Ah, God, that a knight so fair +might not see nor hear of this wrong, and that there should be none to +show him of such treason. + +On the morrow the husband arose very early, at daybreak, saying that +he should hunt within the wood. His sister made the doors fast behind +him, and returned to her bed to sleep, because it was yet but dawn. +The lady lay awake, considering of the knight whom she loved so +loyally. Tenderly she called him to her side. Without any long +tarrying the bird came flying at her will. He flew in at the open +window, and was entangled amongst the blades of steel. One blade +pierced his body so deeply, that the red blood gushed from the wound. +When the falcon knew that his hurt was to death, he forced himself to +pass the barrier, and coming before his lady fell upon her bed, so +that the sheets were dabbled with his blood. The lady looked upon her +friend and his wound, and was altogether anguished and distraught. + +"Sweet friend," said the knight, "it is for you that my life is lost. +Did I not speak truly that if our loves were known, very surely I +should be slain?" + +On hearing these words the lady's head fell upon the pillow, and for a +space she lay as she were dead. The knight cherished her sweetly. He +prayed her not to sorrow overmuch, since she should bear a son who +would be her exceeding comfort. His name should be called Yonec. He +would prove a valiant knight, and would avenge both her and him by +slaying their enemy. The knight could stay no longer, for he was +bleeding to death from his hurt. In great dolour of mind and body he +flew from the chamber. The lady pursued the bird with many shrill +cries. In her desire to follow him she sprang forth from the window. +Marvellous it was that she was not killed outright, for the window was +fully twenty feet from the ground. When the lady made her perilous +leap she was clad only in her shift. Dressed in this fashion she set +herself to follow the knight by the drops of blood which dripped from +his wound. She went along the road that he had gone before, till she +lighted on a little lodge. This lodge had but one door, and it was +stained with blood. By the marks on the lintel she knew that Eudemarec +had refreshed him in the hut, but she could not tell whether he was +yet within. The damsel entered in the lodge, but all was dark, and +since she might not find him, she came forth, and pursued her way. She +went so far that at the last the lady came to a very fair meadow. She +followed the track of blood across this meadow, till she saw a city +near at hand. This fair city was altogether shut in with high walls. +There was no house, nor hall, nor tower, but shone bright as silver, +so rich were the folk who dwelt therein. Before the town lay a still +water. To the right spread a leafy wood, and on the left hand, near by +the keep, ran a clear river. By this broad stream the ships drew to +their anchorage, for there were above three hundred lying in the +haven. The lady entered in the city by the postern gate. The gouts of +freshly fallen blood led her through the streets to the castle. None +challenged her entrance to the city; none asked of her business in the +streets; she passed neither man nor woman upon her way. Spots of red +blood lay on the staircase of the palace. The lady entered and found +herself within a low ceiled room, where a knight was sleeping on a +pallet. She looked upon his face and passed beyond. She came within a +larger room, empty, save for one lonely couch, and for the knight who +slept thereon. But when the lady entered in the third chamber she saw +a stately bed, that well she knew to be her friend's. This bed was of +inwrought gold, and was spread with silken cloths beyond price. The +furniture was worth the ransom of a city, and waxen torches in sconces +of silver lighted the chamber, burning night and day. Swiftly as the +lady had come she knew again her friend, directly she saw him with her +eyes. She hastened to the bed, and incontinently swooned for grief. +The knight clasped her in his arms, bewailing his wretched lot, but +when she came to her mind, he comforted her as sweetly as he might. + +"Fair friend, for God's love I pray you get from hence as quickly as +you are able. My time will end before the day, and my household, in +their wrath, may do you a mischief if you are found in the castle. +They are persuaded that by reason of your love I have come to my +death. Fair friend, I am right heavy and sorrowful because of you." + +The lady made answer, "Friend, the best thing that can befall me is +that we shall die together. How may I return to my husband? If he +finds me again he will certainly slay me with the sword." + +The knight consoled her as he could. He bestowed a ring upon his +friend, teaching her that so long as she wore the gift, her husband +would think of none of these things, nor care for her person, nor seek +to revenge him for his wrongs. Then he took his sword and rendered it +to the lady, conjuring her by their great love, never to give it to +the hand of any, till their son should be counted a brave and worthy +knight. When that time was come she and her lord would go--together +with the son--to a feast. They would lodge in an Abbey, where should +be seen a very fair tomb. There her son must be told of this death; +there he must be girt with this sword. In that place shall be +rehearsed the tale of his birth, and his father, and all this bitter +wrong. And then shall be seen what he will do. + +When the knight had shown his friend all that was in his heart, he +gave her a bliaut, passing rich, that she might clothe her body, and +get her from the palace. She went her way, according to his command, +bearing with her the ring, and the sword that was her most precious +treasure. She had not gone half a mile beyond the gate of the city +when she heard the clash of bells, and the cries of men who lamented +the death of their lord. Her grief was such that she fell four +separate times upon the road, and four times she came from out her +swoon. She bent her steps to the lodge where her friend had refreshed +him, and rested for awhile. Passing beyond she came at last to her own +land, and returned to her husband's tower. There, for many a day, she +dwelt in peace, since--as Eudemarec foretold--her lord gave no thought +to her outgoings, nor wished to avenge him, neither spied upon her any +more. + +In due time the lady was delivered of a son, whom she named Yonec. +Very sweetly nurtured was the lad. In all the realm there was not his +like for beauty and generosity, nor one more skilled with the spear. +When he was of a fitting age the King dubbed him knight. Hearken now, +what chanced to them all, that self-same year. + +It was the custom of that country to keep the feast of St. Aaron with +great pomp at Caerleon, and many another town besides. The husband +rode with his friends to observe the festival, as was his wont. +Together with him went his wife and her son, richly apparelled. As the +roads were not known of the company, and they feared to lose their +way, they took with them a certain youth to lead them in the straight +path. The varlet brought them to a town; in all the world was none so +fair. Within this city was a mighty Abbey, filled with monks in +their holy habit. The varlet craved a lodging for the night, and the +pilgrims were welcomed gladly of the monks, who gave them meat and +drink near by the Abbot's table. On the morrow, after Mass, they would +have gone their way, but the Abbot prayed them to tarry for a little, +since he would show them his chapter house and dormitory, and all the +offices of the Abbey. As the Abbot had sheltered them so courteously, +the husband did according to his wish. + +Immediately that the dinner had come to an end, the pilgrims rose from +table, and visited the offices of the Abbey. Coming to the chapter +house they entered therein, and found a fair tomb, exceeding great, +covered with a silken cloth, banded with orfreys of gold. Twenty +torches of wax stood around this rich tomb, at the head, the foot, and +the sides. The candlesticks were of fine gold, and the censer swung in +that chantry was fashioned from an amethyst. When the pilgrims saw +the great reverence vouchsafed to this tomb, they inquired of the +guardians as to whom it should belong, and of the lord who lay +therein. The monks commenced to weep, and told with tears, that in +that place was laid the body of the best, the bravest, and the fairest +knight who ever was, or ever should be born. "In his life he was King +of this realm, and never was there so worshipful a lord. He was slain +at Caerwent for the love of a lady of those parts. Since then the +country is without a King. Many a day have we waited for the son of +these luckless lovers to come to our land, even as our lord commanded +us to do." + +When the lady heard these words she cried to her son with a loud voice +before them all. + +"Fair son," said she, "you have heard why God has brought us to this +place. It is your father who lies dead within this tomb. Foully was he +slain by this ancient Judas at your side." + +With these words she plucked out the sword, and tendered him the +glaive that she had guarded for so long a season. As swiftly as she +might she told the tale of how Eudemarec came to have speech with his +friend in the guise of a hawk; how the bird was betrayed to his death +by the jealousy of her lord; and of Yonec the falcon's son. At the end +she fell senseless across the tomb, neither did she speak any further +word until the soul had gone from her body. When the son saw that his +mother lay dead upon her lover's grave, he raised his father's sword +and smote the head of that ancient traitor from his shoulders. In +that hour he avenged his father's death, and with the same blow gave +quittance for the wrongs of his mother. As soon as these tidings were +published abroad, the folk of that city came together, and setting the +body of that fair lady within a coffin, sealed it fast, and with due +rite and worship placed it beside the body of her friend. May God +grant them pardon and peace. As to Yonec, their son, the people +acclaimed him for their lord, as he departed from the church. + +Those who knew the truth of this piteous adventure, after many days +shaped it to a Lay, that all men might learn the plaint and the dolour +that these two friends suffered by reason of their love. + + + + +XIV + + +THE LAY OF THE THORN + +Whosoever counts these Lays as fable, may be assured that I am not of +his mind. The dead and past stories that I have told again in divers +fashions, are not set down without authority. The chronicles of these +far off times are yet preserved in the land. They may be read by the +curious at Caerleon, or in the monastery of St. Aaron. They may be +heard in Brittany, and in many another realm besides. To prove how +the remembrance of such tales endures, I will now relate to you the +adventure of the Two Children, making clear what has remained hidden +to this very hour. + +In Brittany there lived a prince, high of spirit, fair of person, +courteous and kind to all. This Childe was a King's son, and there +were none to cherish him but his father and his father's wife, for +his mother was dead. The King held him dearer than aught else in the +world, and close he was to the lady's heart. The lady, for her part, +had a daughter by another husband than the King. Very dainty was the +maiden, sweet of colour and of face, passing young and fair. Both +these children, born to so high estate, were right tender of age, for +the varlet, who was the elder of the twain, was but seven years. The +two children loved together very sweetly. Nothing seemed of worth to +one, if it were not shared with the other. They were nourished at the +same table, went their ways together, and lived side by side. The +guardians who held them in ward, seeing their great love, made no +effort to put them apart, but allowed them to have all things in +common. The love of these children increased with their years, but +Dame Nature brought another love to youth and maid than she gave to +the child. They delighted no more in their old frolic and play. Such +sport gave place to clasp and kisses, to many words, and to long +silences. To savour their friendship they took refuge in an attic of +the keep, but all the years they had passed together, made the new +love flower more sweetly in their hearts, as each knew well. Very pure +and tender was their love, and good would it have been if they could +have hidden it from their fellows. This might not be, for in no great +while they were spied upon, and seen. + +It chanced upon a day that this prince, so young and debonair, came +home from the river with an aching head, by reason of the heat. He +entered in a chamber, and shutting out the noise and clamour, lay +upon his bed, to ease his pain. The Queen was with her daughter in a +chamber, instructing her meetly in that which it becomes a maid to +know. Closer to a damsel's heart is her lover than her kin. So soon as +she heard that her friend was come again to the house, she stole forth +from her mother, without saying word to any, and accompanied by none, +went straight to the chamber where he slept. The prince welcomed her +gladly, for they had not met together that day. The lady, who thought +no wrong, condoled with him in his sickness, and of her sweetness gave +him a hundred kisses to soothe his hurt. Too swiftly sped the time +in this fashion. Presently the Queen noticed that the damsel was no +longer with her at her task. She rose to her feet, and going quickly +to the chamber of the prince, entered therein without call or knock, +for the door was unfastened on the latch. When the Queen saw these two +lovers fondly laced in each other's arms, she knew and was certified +of their love. Right wrathful was the Queen. She caught the maiden +by the wrist, and shut her fast in her room. She prayed the King to +govern his son more strictly, and to hold him in such ward about the +Court that he might get no speech with the damsel. Since he could have +neither sight nor word of his friend, save only the sound of weeping +from her chamber, the prince determined to tarry no further in the +palace. He sought his father the self-same hour, and showed him what +was in his mind. + +"Sire," said he, "I crave a gift. If it pleases you to be a father to +your son, make me now a knight. I desire to seek another realm, and to +serve some prince for guerdon. The road calls me, for many a knight +has won much riches with his sword." + +The King did not refuse the lad's request, but accorded it should be +even as he wished. He prayed the prince to dwell for a year about the +Court, that he might the more readily assist at such tourneys and +follow such feats of arms as were proclaimed in the kingdom. This the +prince agreed to do--the more readily because there was nothing else +to be done. He remained therefore at the Court, moving ever by his +father's side. The maiden, for her part, was in the charge of her +mother, who reproached her always for that she had done amiss. The +Queen did not content herself with reproaches and threats. She used +the sharp discipline upon her, so that the maiden suffered grievously +in her person. Sick at heart was the varlet whilst he hearkened to the +beatings, the discipline and the chastisement wherewith her mother +corrected the damsel. He knew not what to do, for well he understood +that his was the fault, and that by reason of him was her neck bowed +down in her youth. More and more was he tormented because of his +friend. + +More and more the stripes with which she was afflicted became heavier +for him to bear. He shut himself close within his chamber, and making +fast the door, gave his heart over to tears. + +"Alas," cried he, "what shall I do! How may the ill be cured that I +have brought on us by my lightness and folly! I love her more than +life, and, certes, if I may not have my friend I will prove that I can +die for her, though I cannot live without her." + +Whilst the prince made this lamentation, the Queen came before the +King. + +"Sir," said she, "I pledge my oath and word as a crowned lady that I +keep my daughter as strictly as I may. Think to your own son, and see +to it that he cannot set eyes on the maid. He considers none other +thing but how to get clasp and speech of his friend." + +For this reason the King guarded his son about the Court as closely as +the Queen held the maiden in her chamber. So vigilant was the watch +that these pitiful lovers might never have word together. They had no +leisure to meet; they never looked one on the other; nor heard tidings +of how they did, whether by letter or by sergeant. + +They lived this death in life till the same year--eight days before +the Feast of St. John--the varlet was dubbed knight. The King spent +the day in the chase, and returning, brought with him great store of +fowl and venison that he had taken. After supper, when the tables were +removed, the King seated himself for his delight upon a carpet spread +before the dais, his son and many a courteous lord with him. The fair +company gave ear to the Lay of Alys, sweetly sung by a minstrel from +Ireland, to the music of his rote. When his story was ended, forthwith +he commenced another, and related the Lay of Orpheus; none being so +bold as to disturb the singer, or to let his mind wander from the +song. Afterwards the knights spoke together amongst themselves. They +told of adventures which in ancient days had chanced to many, and were +noised about Brittany. Amongst these lords sat a damsel, passing sweet +of tongue. In her turn she told of a certain adventure which awaited +the adventurous at the Ford of the Thorn, once every year, on the +vigil of St. John, "but much I doubt whether now there be knights +so bold as to dare the perils of that passage." When the newly made +knight heard these words his pride quickened within him. He considered +that although he was belted with the sword, he had as yet done no deed +to prove his courage in the eyes of men. He deemed the time had come +to show his hardihood, and to put to silence the malicious lips. He +stood upon his feet, calling upon damsel, King and barons to hearken +to his voice, and spake out manfully in the ears of great and small. + +"Lords," cried he, "whatever says the maiden, I boast before you all +that on St. John's Eve I will ride alone to the Ford of the Thorn, and +dare this adventure, whether it bring me gain or whether it bring me +loss." + +The King was right heavy to hear these words. He thought them to be +the gab and idle speech of a boy. + +"Fair son," said he, "put this folly from your mind." + +But when the King was persuaded that whether it were foolishness or +wisdom the lad was determined to go his way, and abide the issue of +the adventure, + +"Go swiftly," said he, "in the care of God. Since risk your life you +must, play it boldly like a pawn, and may God grant you heart's desire +and happy hours." + +The self-same night, whilst the lad lay sleeping in his bed, that +fair lady, his friend, was in much unrest in hers. The tidings of her +lover's boast had been carried quickly to her chamber, and sorely was +she adread for what might chance. When the Eve of St. John was come, +and the day drew towards evening, the varlet, with all fair hopes, +made him ready to ride to the Ford Adventurous. He had clad himself +from basnet to shoes in steel, and mounted on a strong destrier, went +his road to essay the Passage of the Thorn. Whilst he took his path +the maiden took hers. She went furtively to the orchard, that she +might importune God to bring her friend again, safe and sound to his +own house. She seated herself on the roots of a tree, and with sighs +and tears lamented her piteous case. + +"Father of Heaven," said the girl, "Who was and ever shall be, be +pitiful to my prayer. Since it is not to Thy will that any man should +be wretched, be merciful to a most unhappy maid. Fair Sire, give back +the days that are gone, when my friend was at my side, and grant that +once again I may be with him. Lord God of Hosts, when shall I be +healed? None knows the bitterness of my sorrow, for none may taste +thereof, save such as set their heart on what they may not have. These +only, Lord, know the wormwood and the gall." + +Thus prayed the maiden, seated on the roots of that ancient tree, her +feet upon the tender grass. At the time of her orisons much was she +sought and inquired after in the palace, but none might find where she +had hidden. The damsel herself was given over altogether to her love +and her sorrow, and had no thought for anything, save for prayers and +tears. The night wore through, and dawn already laced the sky, when +she fell on a little slumber, in the tree where she was sheltered. She +woke with a start, but returned to her sleep more deeply than before. +She had not slept long, when herseemed she was ravished from the +tree--but I cannot make this plain for I know no wizardry--to that +Ford of the Thorn, where her friend and lover had repaired. The knight +looked upon the sleeping maiden, and marvelled at so fair a sight. All +adread was the lady when she came from her slumber, for she knew not +where she lay, and wondered greatly. She covered her head by reason of +her exceeding fear, but the knight consoled her courteously. + +"Diva," said he, "there is no reason for terror. If you are an earthly +woman, speaking with a mortal tongue, tell me your story. Tell me in +what guise and manner you came so suddenly to this secret place." + +The maiden began to be of more courage, till she remembered that she +was no longer in the orchard of the castle. She inquired of the knight +to what haunt she had come. + +"Lady," he made answer, "you are laid at the Ford of the Thorn, where +adventures chance to the seeker, sometimes greatly against the mind, +and sometimes altogether according to the heart." + +"Ah, dear God," cried the lady, "now shall I be made whole. Sir, look +a little closer upon me, for I have been your friend. Thanks be to +God, who so soon has heard my prayer." + +This was the beginning of adventures which happened that night to the +seeker. The maiden hastened to embrace her lover. He got him nimbly +from his horse, and taking her softly between his arms, kissed her +with more kisses than I can tell. Then they sat together beneath the +thorn, and the damsel told how she fell asleep within that old tree in +the pleasaunce, of how she was rapt from thence in her slumber, and of +how, yet sleeping, he came upon her by the Ford. When the knight had +hearkened to all that she had to say, he looked from her face, and +glancing across the river, marked a lord, with lifted lance, riding +to the ford. This knight wore harness of a fair vermeil colour, and +bestrode a horse white of body, save for his two ears, which were red +as the rider's mail. Slender of girdle was this knight, and he made no +effort to enter the river, but drew rein upon the other side of the +passage, and watched. The varlet said to his friend that it became +his honour to essay some feats of arms with this adversary. He got to +horse, and rode to the river, leaving the maiden beneath the thorn. +Had she but found another horse at need, very surely would she have +ridden to his aid. The two knights drew together as swiftly as their +steeds could bear them. They thrust so shrewdly with the lance, that +their shields were split and broken. The spears splintered in the +gauntlet, and both champions were unhorsed by the shock, rolling on +the sand; but nothing worse happened to them. Since they had neither +squire nor companion to help them on their feet, they pained them +grievously to get them from the ground. When they might climb upon +their steeds, they hung again the buckler about the neck, and lowered +their ashen spears. Passing heavy was the varlet, for shame that his +friend had seen him thrown. The two champions met together in the +onset, but the prince struck his adversary so cunningly with the +lance, that the laces of his buckler were broken, and the shield fell +from his body. When the varlet saw this he rejoiced greatly, for he +knew that the eyes of his friend were upon him. He pressed his quarrel +right fiercely, and tumbling his foe from the saddle, seized his horse +by the bridle.[2] + +The two knights passed the ford, and the prince feared sorely because +of the skill and mightiness of his adversary. He could not doubt that +if they fell upon him together he would perish at their hands. He put +the thought from mind, for he would not suspect them of conduct so +unbecoming to gentle knight, and so contrary to the laws of chivalry. +If they desired some passage of arms, doubtless they would joust as +gentlemen, and each for himself alone. When these three knights were +mounted on their steeds, they crossed the ford with courtesy and +order, each seeking to give precedence to his companion. Having come +to the bank the stranger knights prayed the prince to run a course for +their pleasure. He answered that it was his wish, too, and made him +ready for the battle. The prince rejoiced greatly when he saw one of +these two adversaries ride a little apart, that he might the more +easily observe the combat. He was assured that he would suffer no +felony at their hands. For their part the two knights were persuaded +that they had to do with an errant who had ridden to the ford for no +other gain than honour and praise. The two adversaries took their +places within the lists. They lowered their lance, and covering their +bodies with the shield, smote fiercely together. So rude was the shock +that the staves of the spears were broken, and the strong destriers +were thrown upon their haunches. Neither of the good knights had lost +his saddle. Each of the combatants got him to his feet, and drawing +the sword, pressed upon his fellow, till the blood began to flow. When +the knight who judged this quarrel saw their prowess, he came near, +and commanded that the battle should cease. The adversaries drew +apart, and struck no further blow with the sword. Right courteously +and with fair words he spake to the prince. "Friend," said the knight, +"get to your horse, and break a lance with me. Then we can go in +peace, for our time grows short. You must endure till the light be +come if you hope to gain the prize. Do your devoir, valiantly, +for should you chance to be thrown in this course, or slain by +misadventure, you have lost your desire. None will ever hear of this +adventure; all your life you will remain little and obscure. Your +maiden will be led away by the victor, seated on the good Castilian +horse you have gained by right of courage. Fight bravely. The +trappings of the destrier are worth the spoil of a king's castle, and +as for the horse himself he is the swiftest and the fairest in the +world. Be not amazed that I tell you of these matters. I have watched +you joust, and know you for a hardy knight and a gallant gentleman. +Besides I stand to lose horse and harness equally with you." + +[Footnote 2: There is here some omission in the manuscript.] + +The prince listened to these words, and accorded that the knight spoke +wisely and well. He would willingly have taken counsel of the maiden, +but first, as surely he knew, he must joust with this knight. He +gathered the reins in his glove, and choosing a lance with an ashen +staff, opposed himself to his adversary. The combatants met together +so fiercely that the lance pierced the steel of the buckler; yet +neither lost stirrup by the shock. When the prince saw this he smote +the knight so shrewdly that he would have fallen from the saddle, had +he not clung to the neck of his destrier. Of his courtesy the prince +passed on, and refrained his hand until his enemy had recovered his +seat. On his return he found the knight full ready to continue his +devoir. Each of the champions plucked forth his sword, and sheltered +him beneath his shield. They struck such mighty blows that the +bucklers were hewn in pieces, but in spite of all they remained firm +in the saddle. The maiden was aghast whilst she watched the melee. She +had great fear for her friend, lest mischief should befall him, and +she cried loudly to the knight that, for grace, he should give over +this combat, and go his way. Very courteous was the knight, and meetly +schooled in what was due to maidens. He saluted the damsel, and, +together with his companion, rode straightway from the ford. The +prince watched them pass for a little, then without further tarrying +he went swiftly to the maiden, where, all fearful and trembling, she +knelt beneath the thorn. The lady stood upon her feet as her lover +drew near. She climbed behind him on the saddle, for well she knew +that their pains were done. They fared so fast that when it was yet +scarce day they came again to the palace. The King saw them approach, +and rejoiced greatly at his son's prowess; but at this he marvelled +much, that he should return with the daughter of the Queen. + +The self-same day of this home-coming--as I have heard tell--the King +had summoned to Court his barons and vassals because of a certain +quarrel betwixt two of his lords. This quarrel being accorded between +them, and come to a fair end, the King related to that blithe company +the story of this adventure. He told again that which you know, of how +the prince defended the Ford, of the finding of the maiden beneath the +thorn, of the mighty joust, and of that white horse which was taken +from the adversary. + +The prince both then and thereafter caused the horse to be entreated +with the greatest care. He received the maiden to wife, and cherished +her right tenderly. She, and the steed on which she would always ride, +were his richest possessions. The destrier lived many years in much +honour, but on a day when his master was taking the harness from his +head, he fell and died forthwith. + +Of the story which has been set before you the Bretons wrought a Lay. +They did not call the song the Lay of the Ford, although the adventure +took place at a river; neither have they named it The Lay of the Two +Children. For good or ill the rhyme is known as the Lay of the Thorn. +It begins well and endeth better, for these kisses find their fruition +in marriage. + + + + +XV + + +THE LAY OF GRAELENT + +Now will I tell you the adventure of Graelent, even as it was told to +me, for the Lay is sweet to hear, and the tune thereof lovely to bear +in mind. + +Graelent was born in Brittany of a gentle and noble house, very comely +of person and very frank of heart. The King who held Brittany in that +day, made mortal war upon his neighbours, and commanded his vassals to +take arms in his quarrel. Amongst these came Graelent, whom the King +welcomed gladly, and since he was a wise and hardy knight greatly was +he honoured and cherished by the Court. So Graelent strove valiantly +at tourney and at joust, and pained himself mightily to do the enemy +all the mischief that he was able. The Queen heard tell the prowess of +her knight, and loved him in her heart for reason of his feats of arms +and of the good men spoke of him. So she called her chamberlain apart, +and said, "Tell me truly, hast thou not often heard speak of that fair +knight, Sir Graelent, whose praise is in all men's mouths?" + +"Lady," answered the chamberlain, "I know him for a courteous +gentleman, well spoken of by all." + +"I would he were my friend," replied the lady, "for I am in much +unrest because of him. Go thou, and bid him come to me, so he would be +worthy of my love." "Passing gracious and rich is your gift, lady, and +doubtless he will receive it with marvellous joy. Why, from here to +Troy there is no priest even, however holy, who in looking on your +face would not lose Heaven in your eyes." + +Thereupon the chamberlain took leave of the Queen, and seeking +Graelent within his lodging saluted him courteously, and gave him the +message, praying him to come without delay to the palace. + +"Go before, fair friend," answered the knight, "for I will follow you +at once." + +So when the chamberlain was gone Graelent caused his grey horse to be +saddled, and mounting thereon, rode to the castle, attended by his +squire. He descended without the hall, and passing before the King +entered within the Queen's chamber. When the lady saw him she embraced +him closely, and cherished and honoured him sweetly. Then she made the +knight to be seated on a fair carpet, and to his face praised him +for his exceeding comeliness. But he answered her very simply and +courteously, saying nothing but what was seemly to be said. Then the +Queen kept silence for a great while, considering whether she should +require him to love her for the love of love; but at the last, made +bold by passion, she asked if his heart was set on any maid or dame. + +"Lady," said he, "I love no woman, for love is a serious business, +not a jest. Out of five hundred who speak glibly of love, not one +can spell the first letter of his name. With such it is idleness, +or fulness of bread, or fancy, masking in the guise of love. Love +requires of his servants chastity in thought, in word and in deed. If +one of two lovers is loyal, and the other jealous and false, how may +their friendship last, for Love is slain! But sweetly and discreetly +love passes from person to person, from heart to heart, or it is +nothing worth. For what the lover would, that would the beloved; what +she would ask of him that should he go before to grant. Without accord +such as this, love is but a bond and a constraint. For above all +things Love means sweetness, and truth, and measure; yea, loyalty to +the loved one and to your word. And because of this I dare not meddle +with so high a matter." + +The Queen heard Graelent gladly, finding him so tripping of tongue, +and since his words were wise and courteous, at the end she discovered +to him her heart. + +"Friend, Sir Graelent, though I am a wife, yet have I never loved my +lord. But I love you very dearly, and what I have asked of you will +you not go before to grant?" + +"Lady," said he, "give me pity and forgiveness, but this may not be. +I am the vassal of the King, and on my knees have pledged him loyalty +and faith, and sworn to defend his life and honour. Never shall he +have shame because of me." + +With these words Sir Graelent took his leave of the Queen, and went +his way. + +Seeing him go in this fashion the Queen commenced to sigh. She was +grieved in her heart, and knew not what to do. But whatever chanced +she would not renounce her passion, so often she required his love by +means of soft messages and costly gifts, but he refused them all. Then +the Queen turned from love to hate, and the greatness of her passion +became the measure of her wrath, for very evilly she spoke of Graelent +to the King. So long as the war endured Graelent remained in that +realm. He spent all that he had upon his company, for the King grudged +wages to his men. The Queen persuaded the King to this, counselling +him that by withholding the pay of the sergeants, Graelent might in no +wise flee the country, nor take service with another lord. So at the +end Graelent was wonderfully downcast, nor was it strange that he was +sad, for there remained nothing which he might pledge, but one poor +steed, and when this was gone, no horse had he to carry him from the +country. + +It was now the month of May, when the hours are long and warm. The +burgess, with whom Graelent lodged, had risen early in the morning, +and with his wife had gone to eat with neighbours in the town. No one +was in the house except Graelent, no squire, nor archer, nor servant, +save only the daughter of his host, a very courteous maid. When the +hour for dinner was come she prayed the knight that they might sit at +board together. But he had no heart for mirth, and seeking out his +squire bade him bridle and saddle his horse, for he had no care to +eat. + +"I have no saddle," replied the squire. + +"Friend," said the demoiselle, "I will lend you bridle and saddle as +well." + +So when the harness was done upon him, Graelent mounted his horse, and +went his way through the town, clad in a cloak of sorry fur, which +he had worn overlong already. The townsfolk in the street turned and +stared upon him, making a jest of his poverty, but of their jibes +he took no heed, for such act but after their kind, and seldom show +kindliness or courtesy. + +Now without the town there spread a great forest, thick with trees, +and through the forest ran a river. Towards this forest Graelent rode, +deep in heavy thought, and very dolent. Having ridden for a little +space beneath the trees, he spied within a leafy thicket a fair white +hart, whiter even than snow on winter branches. The hart fled before +him, and Graelent followed so closely in her track that man and deer +presently came together to a grassy lawn, in the midst of which sprang +a fountain of clear, sweet water. Now in this fountain a demoiselle +disported herself for her delight. Her raiment was set on a bush near +by, and her two maidens stood on the bank busied in their lady's +service. Graelent forgot the chase at so sweet a sight, since never +in his life had he seen so lovely a dame. For the lady was slender in +shape and white, very gracious and dainty of colour, with laughing +eyes and an open brow, certainly the most beautiful thing in all the +world. Graelent dared not draw nigh the fountain for fear of troubling +the dame, so he came softly to the bush to set hands upon her raiment. +The two maidens marked his approach, and at their fright the lady +turned, and calling him by name, cried with great anger, + +"Graelent, put my raiment down, for it will profit you little even if +you carry it away, and leave me naked in this wood. But if you are +indeed too greedy of gain to remember your knighthood, at least return +me my shift, and content yourself with my mantle, since it will bring +you money, as it is very good." + +"I am not a merchant's son," answered Graelent merrily, "nor am I a +huckster to sell mantles in a booth. If your cloak were worth the +spoil of three castles I would not now carry it from the bush. Come +forth from your bathing, fair friend, and clothe yourself in your +vesture, for you have to say a certain word to me." + +"I will not trust myself to your hand, for you might seize upon me," +answered the lady, "and I tell you frankly that I put no faith in your +word, nor have had any dealings with your school." + +Then Graelent answered still more merrily, "Lady, needs must I suffer +your wrath. But at least I will guard your raiment till you come forth +from the well and, fairest, very dainty is your body in my eyes." + +When the lady knew that Graelent would not depart, nor render again +her raiment, then she demanded surety that he would do her no hurt. +This thing was accorded between them, so she came forth from the +fountain, and did her vesture upon her. Then Graelent took her gently +by the left hand, and prayed and required of her that she would grant +him love for love. But the lady answered, "I marvel greatly that you +should dare to speak to me in this fashion, for I have little reason +to think you discreet. You are bold, sir knight, and overbold, to seek +to ally yourself with a woman of my lineage." + +Sir Graelent was not abashed by the dame's proud spirit, but wooed and +prayed her gently and sweetly, promising that if she granted him her +love he would serve her in all loyalty, and never depart therefrom +all the days of his life. The demoiselle hearkened to the words of +Graelent, and saw plainly that he was a valiant knight, courteous and +wise. She thought within herself that should she send him from her, +never might she find again so sure a friend. Since, then, she knew him +worthy of her love, she kissed him softly, and spoke to him in this +manner, "Graelent, I will love you none the less truly, though we have +not met until this day. But one thing is needful that our love may +endure. Never must you speak a word by which this hidden thing may +become known. I will furnish you with deniers in your purse, with +cloth of silk, with silver and with gold. Night and day will I stay +with you, and great shall be the love between us twain. You shall +see me riding at your side; you may talk and laugh with me at your +pleasure, but I must never be seen of your comrades, nor must they +know aught concerning your bride. Graelent, you are loyal, brave, and +courteous, and comely enough to the view. For you I spread my snare +at the fountain; for you shall I suffer heavy pains, as well I knew +before I set forth on this adventure. Now must I trust to your +discretion, for if you speak vainly and boastfully of this thing then +am I undone. Remain now for a year in this country, which shall be for +you a home that your lady loves well. But noon is past, and it is time +for you to go. Farewell, and a messenger shortly shall tell you that +which I would have you do." + +Graelent took leave of the lady, and she sweetly clasped and kissed +him farewell. He returned to his lodging, dismounted from his steed, +and entering within a chamber, leaned from the casement, considering +this strange adventure. Looking towards the forest he saw a varlet +issue therefrom riding upon a palfrey. He drew rein before Graelent's +door, and taking his feet from the stirrup, saluted the knight. So +Graelent inquired from whence he rode, and of his name and business. + +"Sir," answered he, "I am the messenger of your lady. She sends you +this destrier by my hand, and would have me enter in your service, to +pay your servitors their wages and to take charge of your lodging." + +When Graelent heard this message he thought it both good and fair. He +kissed the varlet upon the cheek, and accepting his gift, caused the +destrier--which was the noblest, the swiftest and the most speedy +under the sun--to be led to the stable. Then the varlet carried his +baggage to his master's chamber, and took therefrom a large cushion +and a rich coverlet which he spread upon the couch. After this he drew +thereout a purse containing much gold and silver, and stout cloth +fitting for the knight's apparel. Then he sent for the host, and +paying him what was owing, called upon him to witness that he was +recompensed most largely for the lodging. He bade him also to seek out +such knights as should pass through the town to refresh and solace +themselves in the company of his lord. The host was a worthy man. He +made ready a plenteous dinner, and inquired through the town for such +poor knights as were in misease by reason of prison or of war. These +he brought to the hostelry of Sir Graelent, and comforted them with +instruments of music, and with all manner of mirth. Amongst them sat +Graelent at meat, gay and debonair, and richly apparelled. Moreover, +to these poor knights and the harpers Graelent gave goodly gifts, so +that there was not a citizen in all the town who did not hold him in +great worship, and regard him as his lord. + +From this moment Graelent lived greatly at his ease, for not a cloud +was in his sky. His lady came at will and pleasure; all day long they +laughed and played together, and at night she lay softly at his side. +What truer happiness might he know than this? Often, besides, he rode +to such tournaments of the land as he was able, and all men esteemed +him for a stout and worthy knight. Very pleasant were his days, and +his love, and if such things might last for ever he had nothing else +to ask of life. + +When a full year had passed by, the season drew to the Feast of +Pentecost. Now it was the custom of the King to summon at that tide +his barons and all who held their fiefs of him to his Court for a rich +banquet. Amongst these lords was bidden Sir Graelent. After men had +eaten and drunk the whole day, and all were merry, the King commanded +the Queen to put off her royal robes, and to stand forth upon the +dais. Then he boasted before the company, + +"Lord barons, how seems it to you? Beneath the sky is there a lovelier +Queen than mine, be she maid, lady or demoiselle?" + +So all the lords made haste to praise the Queen, and to cry and affirm +that in all the world was neither maid nor wife so dainty, fresh and +fair. Not a single voice but bragged of her beauty, save only that +of Graelent. He smiled at their folly, for his heart remembered his +friend, and he held in pity all those who so greatly rejoiced in the +Queen. So he sat with covered head, and with face bent smiling to the +board. The Queen marked his discourtesy, and drew thereto the notice +of the King. + +"Sire, do you observe this dishonour! Not one of these mighty lords +but has praised the beauty of your wife, save Graelent only, who makes +a mock of her. Always has he held me in envy and despite." + +The King commanded Graelent to his throne, and in the hearing of all +bade the knight to tell, on his faith as vassal to his liege, for what +reason he had hid his face and laughed. + +"Sire," answered Graelent to the King, "Sire, hearken to my words. In +all the world no man of your lineage does so shameful a deed as this. +You make your wife a show upon a stage. You force your lords to praise +her just with lies, saying that the sun does not shine upon her peer. +One man will tell the truth to your face, and say that very easily can +be found a fairer dame than she." + +Right heavy was the King when he heard these words. He conjured +Graelent to tell him straightly if he knew a daintier dame. + +"Yes, Sire, and thirty times more gracious than the Queen." + +The Queen was marvellously wrathful to hear this thing, and prayed her +husband of his grace to compel the knight to bring that woman to the +Court of whose beauty he made so proud a boast. + +"Set us side by side, and let the choice be made between us. Should +she prove the fairer let him go in peace; but if not, let justice be +done on him for his calumny and malice." + +So the King bade his guards to lay hands on Graelent, swearing that +between them never should be love nor peace, nor should the knight +issue forth from prison, until he had brought before him her whose +beauty he had praised so much. + +Graelent was held a captive. He repented him of his hasty words, and +begged the King to grant him respite. He feared to have lost his +friend, and sweated grievously with rage and mortification. But though +many of the King's house pitied him in his evil case, the long days +brought him no relief, until a full year went by, and once again the +King made a great banquet to his barons and his lieges. Then was +Graelent brought to hall, and put to liberty on such terms that he +would return bringing with him her whose loveliness he had praised +before the King. Should she prove so desirable and dear, as his boast, +then all would be well, for he had naught to fear. But if he returned +without his lady, then he must go to judgment, and his only hope would +be in the mercy of the King. + +Graelent mounted his good horse, and parted from the Court sad and +wrathful. He sought his lodging, and inquired for his servant, but +might not find him. He called upon his friend, but the lady did not +heed his voice. Then Graelent gave way to despair, and preferred death +to life. He shut himself within his chamber, crying upon his dear one +for grace and mercy, but from her he got neither speech nor comfort. +So seeing that his love had withdrawn herself from him by reason of +his grievous fault, he took no rest by night or day, and held his life +in utter despite. For a full year he lived in this piteous case, so +that it was marvellous to those about him that he might endure his +life. + +On the day appointed the sureties brought Graelent where the King was +set in hall with his lords. Then the King inquired of Graelent where +was now his friend. + +"Sire," answered the knight, "she is not here, for in no wise might I +find her. Now do with me according to your will." + +"Sir Graelent," said the King, "very foully have you spoken. You have +slandered the Queen, and given all my lords the lie. When you go from +my hands never will you do more mischief with your tongue." + +Then the King spoke with a high voice to his barons. + +"Lords, I pray and command you to give judgment in this matter. You +heard the blame that Graelent set upon me before all my Court. You +know the deep dishonour that he fastened on the Queen. How may such a +disloyal vassal deal honestly with his lord, for as the proverb tells, +'Hope not for friendship from the man who beats your dog!'" + +The lords of the King's household went out from before him, and +gathered themselves together to consider their judgment. They kept +silence for a great space, for it was grievous to them to deal harshly +with so valiant a knight. Whilst they thus refrained from words a +certain page hastened unto them, and prayed them not to press the +matter, for (said he) "even now two young maidens, the freshest maids +in all the realm, seek the Court. Perchance they bring succour to +the good knight, and, so it be the will of God, may deliver him from +peril." So the lords waited right gladly, and presently they saw two +damsels come riding to the palace. Very young were these maidens, very +slender and gracious, and daintily cloaked in two fair mantles. So +when the pages had hastened to hold their stirrup and bridle, the +maidens dismounted from their palfreys and entering within the hall +came straight before the King. + +"Sire," said one of the two damsels, "hearken now to me. My lady +commands us to pray you to put back this cause for a while, nor to +deliver judgment therein, since she comes to plead with you for the +deliverance of this knight." + +When the Queen heard this message she was filled with shame, and made +speed to get her from the hall Hardly had she gone than there entered +two other damsels, whiter and more sweetly flushed even than their +fellows. These bade the King to wait for a little, since their +mistress was now at hand. So all men stared upon them, and praised +their great beauty, saying that if the maid was so fair, what then +must be the loveliness of the dame. When, therefore, the demoiselle +came in her turn, the King's household stood upon their feet to give +her greeting. Never did woman show so queenly to men's sight as did +this lady riding to the hall. Passing sweet she was to see, passing +simple and gracious of manner, with softer eyes and a daintier face +than girl of mother born. The whole Court marvelled at her beauty, for +no spot or blemish might be found in her body. She was richly dressed +in a kirtle of vermeil silk, broidered with gold, and her mantle was +worth the spoil of a king's castle. Her palfrey was of good race, +and speedy; the harness and trappings upon him were worth a thousand +livres in minted coin. All men pressed about her, praising her face +and person, her simplicity and queenlihead. She came at slow pace +before the King, and dismounting from the palfrey, spoke very +courteously in this fashion. + +"Sire," said she, "hearken to me, and you, lord barons, give heed to +my pleading. You know the words Graelent spake to the King, in the +ears of men, when the Queen made herself a show before the lords, +saying that often had he seen a fairer lady. Very hasty and foolish +was his tongue, since he provoked the King to anger. But at least he +told the truth when he said that there is no dame so comely but that +very easily may be found one more sweet than she. Look now boldly upon +my face, and judge you rightly in this quarrel between the Queen and +me. So shall Sir Graelent be acquitted of this blame." + +Then gazing upon her, all the King's household, lord and lackey, +prince and page, cried with one voice that her favour was greater than +that of the Queen. The King himself gave judgment with his barons that +this thing was so; therefore Sir Graelent was acquitted of his blame, +and declared a free man. + +When judgment was given the lady took her leave of the King, and +attended by her four damsels departed straightway from the hall upon +her palfrey. Sir Graelent caused his white horse to be saddled, and +mounting, followed hotly after her through the town. Day after day +he rode in her track, pleading for pity and pardon, but she gave him +neither good words nor bad in answer. So far they fared that at last +they came to the forest, and taking their way through a deep wood rode +to the bank of a fair, clear stream. The lady set her palfrey to the +river, but when she saw that Graelent also would enter therein she +cried to him, + +"Stay, Graelent, the stream is deep, and it is death for you to +follow." + +Graelent took no heed to her words, but forced his horse to enter the +river, so that speedily the waters closed above his head. Then the +lady seized his bridle, and with extreme toil brought horse and rider +back again to land. + +"Graelent," said she, "you may not pass this river, however mightily +you pain yourself, therefore must you remain alone on this bank." + +Again the lady set her palfrey to the river, but Graelent could not +suffer to see her go upon her way alone. Again he forced his horse to +enter the water; but the current was very swift and the stream was +very deep, so that presently Graelent was torn from his saddle, and +being borne away by the stream came very nigh to drown. When the four +maidens saw his piteous plight they cried aloud to their lady, and +said, + +"Lady, for the love of God, take pity on your poor friend. See, how he +drowns in this evil case. Alas, cursed be the day you spake soft words +in his ear, and gave him the grace of your love. Lady, look how the +current hurries him to his death. How may your heart suffer him to +drown whom you have held so close! Aid him, nor have the sin on your +soul that you endured to let the man who loved you die without your +help." + +When the lady heard the complaint of her maidens, no longer could +she hide the pity she felt in her heart. In all haste she turned her +palfrey to the river, and entering the stream clutched her lover by +the belt. Thus they won together to the bank. There she stripped the +drowned man of his raiment, and wrapping him fast in her own dry +mantle cherished him so meetly that presently he came again to life. +So she brought him safely into her own land, and none has met Sir +Graelent since that day. + +But the Breton folk still hold firmly that Graelent yet liveth with +his friend. His destrier, when he escaped him from the perilous river, +grieved greatly for his master's loss. He sought again the mighty +forest, yet never was at rest by night or day. No peace might he find, +but ever pawed he with his hoofs upon the ground, and neighed so +loudly that the noise went through all the country round about. Many a +man coveted so noble a steed, and sought to put bit and bridle in his +mouth, yet never might one set hands upon him, for he would not suffer +another master. So each year in its season the forest was filled with +the cry and the trouble of this noble horse which might not find its +lord. + +This adventure of the good steed and of the stout knight, who went +to the land of faery with his love, was noised abroad throughout all +Brittany, and the Bretons made a Lay thereof which was sung in +the ears of many people, and was called a Lay of the Death of Sir +Graelent. + + + + +XVI + + +A STORY OF BEYOND THE SEA + +In times gone by there lived a Count of Ponthieu, who loved chivalry +and the pleasures of the world beyond measure, and moreover was a +stout knight and a gallant gentleman. In the self-same day there lived +a Count of St. Pol, who was lord of much land, and a right worthy man. +One grief he had, that there was no heir of his body; but a sister was +his, a prudent woman and a passing good gentlewoman, who was dame of +Dommare in Ponthieu. This lady had a son, Thibault by name, who was +heir to this County of St. Pol, but he was a poor man so long as his +uncle lived. He was a prudent knight, valiant and skilled with the +spear, noble and fair. Greatly was he loved and honoured of all honest +people, for he was of high race and gentle birth. + +The Count of Ponthieu, of whom the tale hath spoken, had to wife a +very worthy lady. He and his dame had but one child, a daughter, +very good and gracious, who increased with her days in favour and in +virtues; and the maid was of some sixteen years. The third year after +her birth her mother died, whereof she was sorely troubled and right +heavy. The Count, her father, took to himself another wife with no +long tarrying, a dame of gentle race and breeding. Of this lady he got +him quickly a son; very near was the boy to his father's heart. The +lad grew with his years in stature and in valour, and gave promise to +increase in all good qualities. + +The Count of Ponthieu marked my lord Thibault of Dommare. He summoned +the knight to his castle, and made him of his house for guerdon. When +Sir Thibault was of his fellowship he rejoiced greatly, for the Count +prospered in goods and in praise by reason of his servant's deeds. As +they came from a tournament on a day, the Count and my lord Thibault +together, the Count required of his companion and said, + +"Thibault, by the aid of God tell me truly which jewel of my crown +shines the fairest in your eyes!" + +"Sir," replied Messire Thibault, "I am only a beggar, but so help me +God, of all the jewels in your crown I love and covet none, save only +my demoiselle, your daughter." + +When he heard this thing the Count had great content. He laughed in +his heart and said, + +"Thibault, I will grant her to the beggar, if it be to her mind." + +"Sir," answered he, "thanks and gramercy. May God make it up to you." + +Then went the Count to his daughter, and said, + +"Fair daughter, I have promised you in marriage, so it go not against +your heart." + +"Sir," inquired the maid, "to whom?" + +"In the name of God, to a loyal man, and a true man, of whom much is +hoped; to a knight of my own household, Thibault of Dommare." + +"Dear sir," answered the maiden sweetly, "if your county were a +kingdom, and I were the king's only child, I would choose him as my +husband, and gladly give him all that I had." + +"Daughter," said the Count, "blessed be your pretty person, and the +hour that you were born." + +Thus was this marriage made. The Count of Ponthieu and the Count of +St. Pol were at the feast, and many another honourable man besides. +Great was the joy in which they met, fair was the worship, and +marvellous the delight. The bride and groom lived together in all +happiness for five years. This was their only sorrow, that it pleased +not our Lord Jesus Christ that they should have an heir to their +flesh. + +On a night Sir Thibault lay in his bed. He considered within himself +and said, + +"Lord, whence cometh it that I love this dame so fondly, and she me, +yet we may have no heir of our bodies to serve God and to do a little +good in the world?" + +Then he remembered my lord St. James, the Apostle of Spain, who gives +to the fervent supplicant that which rightly he desires. Earnestly, to +his own heart, he promised that he would walk a pilgrim in his way. +His wife lay sleeping at his side, but when she came from out her +sleep, he took her softly in his arms, and required of her that she +would bestow on him a gift. + +"Sir," said the lady, "what gift would you have?" + +"Wife," he made answer, "that you shall know when it is mine." + +"Husband," said she, "if it be mine to grant, I will give it you, +whatever the price." + +"Wife," he said, "I pray you to grant me leave to seek my lord St. +James the Apostle, that he may intercede with our Lord Jesus Christ to +bestow on us an heir of our flesh, whereby God may be served in this +world and Holy Church glorified." + +"Sir," cried the lady, "sweet and dear it is that you should crave +such bounty, and I grant the permission you desire right willingly." + +Deep and long was the tenderness that fell betwixt these twain. Thus +passed a day, and another day, and yet a third. On this third day it +chanced that they lay together in their bed, and it was night. Then +said the dame, + +"Husband, I pray and require of you a gift." + +"Wife," he replied, "ask, and I will give it you, if by any means I +can." + +"Husband," she said, "I require leave to come with you on this errand +and journey." + +When Messire Thibault heard this thing he was right sorrowful, and +said, + +"Wife, grievous would be the journey to your body, for the way is very +long, and the land right strange and perilous." + +Said she, + +"Husband, be not in doubt because of me. You shall be more hindered of +your squire than of your wife." + +"Dame," said he, "as God wills and as you wish." + +The days went, and these tidings were so noised abroad that the Count +of Ponthieu heard thereof. He commanded my lord Sir Thibault to his +house, and said, + +"Thibault, you are a vowed pilgrim, as I hear, and my daughter too!" + +"Sir," answered he, "that is verily and truly so." + +"Thibault," replied the Count, "as to yourself what pleases you is to +my mind also, but concerning my daughter that is another matter." + +"Sir," made answer Sir Thibault, "go she must, and I cannot deny her." + +"Since this is so," said the Count, "part when you will. Make ready +for the road your steeds, your palfreys, and the pack horses, and I +will give you riches and gear enough for the journey." + +"Sir," said Messire Thibault, "thanks and gramercy." + +Thus these pilgrims arrayed them, and sought that shrine with +marvellous joy. They fared so speedily upon the way, that at length +they came near to my lord St. James, by less than two days faring. +That night they drew to a goodly town. After they had eaten in the +hostel, Sir Thibault called for the host and inquired of him the road +for the morrow, how it ran, and whether it were smooth. + +"Fair sir," replied the innkeeper to the knight, "at the gate of this +town you will find a little wood. Beyond the wood a strong smooth road +runs for the whole day's journey." + +Hearing this they asked no more questions, but the beds being laid +down, they went to their rest. The morrow broke full sweetly. The +pilgrims rose lightly from their beds as soon as it was day, and made +much stir and merriment. Sir Thibault rose also, since he might not +sleep, but his head was heavy. He therefore called his chamberlain, +and said, + +"Rise quickly, and bid the company to pack the horses and go their +way. Thou shalt remain with me, and make ready our harness, for I am a +little heavy and disquieted." + +The chamberlain made known to the sergeants the pleasure of their +lord, so that presently they took the road. In no great while Messire +Thibault and his dame got them from the bed, and arraying their +persons, followed after their household. The chamberlain folded the +bed linen, and it was yet but dawn, though warm and fair. The three +went forth through the gate of the city, those three together, with no +other companion save God alone, and drew near to the forest. When they +came close they found two roads, the one good, the other ill; so that +Sir Thibault said to his chamberlain, + +"Put spurs to your horse, and ride swiftly after our people. Bid them +await our coming, for foul it is for lady and knight to pass through +this wood with so little company." + +The servitor went speedily, and Messire Thibault entered the forest. +He drew rein beside the two roads, for he knew not which to follow. + +"Wife," he said, "which way is ours?" + +"Please God, the good," she answered. + +Now in this wood were robbers, who spoiled the fair way, and made wide +and smooth the false, so that pilgrims should mistake and wander from +the path. Messire Thibault lighted from his horse. He looked from one +to the other, and finding the wrong way broader and more smooth than +the true, he cried, + +"Wife, come now; in the name of God, this." + +They had proceeded along this road for some quarter of a mile when the +path grew strict and narrow, and boughs made dark the way. + +"Wife," said the knight, "I fear that we fare but ill." + +When he had thus spoken he looked before him, and marked four armed +thieves, seated on four strong horses, and each bore lance in hand. +Thereupon he glanced behind him, and, lo, four other robbers, armed +and set in ambush, so he said, + +"Dame, be not affrighted of aught that you may see from now." + +Right courteously Sir Thibault saluted the robbers in his path, but +they gave no answer to his greeting. Afterwards he sought of them +what was in their mind, and one replied that he should know anon. +The thief, who had thus spoken, drew towards my lord Thibault, with +outstretched sword, thinking to smite him in the middle. Messire +Thibault saw the blow about to fall, and it was no marvel if he feared +greatly. He sprang forward nimbly, as best he might, so that the +glaive smote the air. Then as the robber staggered by, Sir Thibault +seized him fiercely, and wrested the sword from his hand. The knight +advanced stoutly against those three from whom the thief had come. He +struck the foremost amidst the bowels, so that he perished miserably. +Then he turned and went again to that one who had first come against +him with the sword, and slew him also. Now it was decreed of God that +after the knight had slain three of this company of robbers, that +the five who were left, encompassed him round about, and killed his +palfrey. Sir Thibault tumbled flat upon his back, although he was not +wounded to his hurt. Since he had neither sword nor other harness +he could do no more. The thieves therefore stripped him to his very +shirt, his boots and hosen, and binding him hand and foot with a +baldrick, cast him into a thorn bush, right thick and sharp. When +they had done this they hastened to the lady. From her they took her +palfrey and her vesture, even to the shift. Passing fair was the lady; +she wept full piteously, and never was dame more sorrowful than she. +Now one of these bold robbers stared upon the lady, and saw that she +was very fair. He spoke to his companions in this fashion, + +"Comrades, I have lost my brother in this broil. I will take this +woman for his blood money." + +But the others made answer, + +"I, too, have lost my kin. I claim as much as you, and my right is +good as yours." + +So said a third, and a fourth, and a fifth. Then spake yet another. + +"In keeping of the lady will be found neither peace nor profit. Rather +let us lead her from here within the forest, there do our pleasure +upon her, and then put her again upon the path, so that she may go her +way." + +Thus they did as they had devised together, and left her on the road. + +Right sick at heart was Messire Thibault when he saw her so entreated, +but nothing could he do. He bore no malice against his wife by reason +of that which had befallen, for well he knew that it, was by force, +and not according to her will. When he saw her again, weeping bitterly +and altogether shamed, he called to her, and said, + +"Wife, for God's love unloose me from these bonds, and deliver me from +the torment that I suffer, for these thorns are sharper than I can +endure." + +The lady hastened to the place where Sir Thibault lay, and marked a +sword flung behind the bush, belonging to one of those felons that +were slain. She took the glaive, and went towards her lord, filled +full of wrath and evil thoughts because of what had chanced to her. +She feared greatly lest her husband should bear malice for that which +he had seen, reproaching her upon a day, and taunting her for what was +past. She said, + +"Sir, you are out of your pain already." + +She raised the sword, and came towards her husband, thinking to strike +him midmost the body. When he marked the falling glaive he deemed that +his day had come, for he was a naked man, clad in nought but his shirt +and hosen. He trembled so sorely that his bonds were loosed, and the +lady struck so feebly that she wounded him but little, severing that +baldrick with which his hands were made fast. Thereat the knight brake +the cords about his legs, and leaping upon his feet, cried, "Dame, +by the grace of God it is not to-day that you shall slay me with the +sword." + +Then she made answer, "Truly, sir, the sorer grief is mine." + +Sir Thibault took the sword, and set it again in the sheath, +afterwards he put his hand upon the lady's shoulder, and brought her +back by the path they had fared. At the fringe of the woodland he +found a large part of his fellowship, who were come to meet him. When +these saw their lord and lady so spoiled and disarrayed they inquired +of them, "Sir, who hath put you in this case?" + +He set them by, saying that they had fallen amongst felons who had +done them much mischief. + +Mightily the sergeants lamented; but presently they fetched raiment +from the packs, and arrayed them, for enough they had and to spare. So +they climbed into the saddle, and continued their journey. + +They rode that day, nor for aught that had chanced did Messire +Thibault show sourer countenance to the lady. At nightfall they came +to a goodly town, and there took shelter in an inn. Messire Thibault +sought of his host if there was any convent of nuns in those parts +where a lady might repose her. The host made answer to him, + +"Sir, you are served to your wish. Just beyond the walls is a right +fair religious house, with many holy women." + +On the morrow Messire Thibault went to this house, and heard Mass. +Afterwards he spoke to the Abbess and her chapter, praying that he +might leave his lady in their charge, until his return; and this they +accorded very willingly. Messire Thibault bestowed the lady in this +convent, with certain of his house to do her service, and went his way +to bring his pilgrimage to a fair end. When he had knelt before the +shrine, and honoured the Saint, he came again to the convent and the +lady. He gave freely of his wealth to the house, and taking to himself +his wife, returned with her to their own land, in the same joy and +honour as he had brought her forth, save only that they lay not +together. + +Great was the gladness of the folk of that realm when Sir Thibault +returned to his home. The Count of Ponthieu, the father of his wife +was there, and there, too, was his uncle the Count of St. Pol. Many +worthy and valiant gentlemen came for his welcome, and a fair company +of dames and maidens likewise honoured the lady. That day the Count +of Ponthieu sat at meat with my lord Thibault, and ate from the same +dish, the two together. Then it happed that the Count spake to him, + +"Thibault, fair son, he who journeys far hears many a strange matter +and sees many strange sights, which are hidden from those who sit over +the fire. Tell me therefore, of your favour, something of all you have +seen and heard since you went from amongst us." + +Messire Thibault answered shortly that he knew no tale worth the +telling. The Count would take no denial, but plagued him so sorely, +begging him of his courtesy to tell over some adventure, that at the +last he was overborne. + +"Sir, I will narrate a story, since talk I must; but at least let it +be in your private ear, if you please, and not for the mirth of all." + +The Count replied that his pleasure was the same. After meat, when men +had eaten their fill, the Count rose in his chair, and taking my lord +Thibault by the hand, entreated, + +"Tell me now, I pray, that which it pleases you to tell, for there are +few of the household left in hall." + +Then Messire Thibault began to relate that which chanced to a knight +and a dame, even as it has been rehearsed before you in this tale; +only he named not the persons to whom this lot was appointed. The +Count, who was wise and sober of counsel, inquired what the knight had +done with the lady. Thibault made answer that the knight had brought +the lady back by the way she went, with the same joy and worship as he +led her forth, save only that they slept not together. + +"Thibault," said the Count, "your knight walked another road than I +had trod. By my faith in God and my love for you, I had hanged this +dame by her tresses to a tree. The laces of her gown would suffice if +I could find no other cord." + +"Sir," said Messire Thibault, "you have but my word. The truth can +only be assured if the lady might bear witness and testify with her +own mouth." + +"Thibault," said the Count, "know you the name of this knight?" + +"Sir," cried Messire Thibault, "I beg you again to exempt me from +naming the knight to whom this sorrow befell. Know of a truth that his +name will bring no profit." + +"Thibault," said the Count, "it is my pleasure that his name should +not be hid." + +"Sir," answered Thibault, "tell I must, as you will not acquit me; but +I take you to witness that I speak only under compulsion, since gladly +I would have kept silence, had this been your pleasure, for in the +telling there is neither worship nor honour." + +"Thibault," replied the Count, "without more words I would know +forthwith who was the knight to whom this adventure chanced. By the +faith that you owe to your God and to me, I conjure you to tell me his +name, since it is in your mind." + +"Sir," replied Messire Thibault, "I will answer by the faith I owe +my God and you, since you lay this charge upon me. Know well, and be +persuaded, that I am the knight on whom this sorrow lighted. Hold it +for truth that I was sorely troubled and sick of heart. Be assured +that never before have I spoken to any living man about the business, +and moreover that gladly would I have held my peace, had such been +your will." + +When the Count heard this adventure he was sore astonied, and +altogether cast down. He kept silence for a great space, speaking +never a word. At the last he said, "Thibault, was it indeed my child +who did this thing?" + +"Sir, it is verily and truly so." + +"Thibault," said the Count, "sweet shall be your vengeance, since you +have given her again to my hand." + +Because of his exceeding wrath the Count sent straightway for his +daughter, and demanded of her if those things were true of which +Messire Thibault had spoken. She inquired of the accusation, and her +father answered, "That you would have slain him with the sword, even +as he has told me?" + +"Sir, of a surety." + +"And wherefore would you slay your husband?" + +"Sir, for reason that I am yet heavy that he is not dead." + +When the Count heard the lady speak in this fashion, he answered her +nothing, but suffered in silence until the guests had departed. After +these were gone, the Count came on a day to Rue-sur-Mer, and Messire +Thibault with him, and the Count's son. With them also went the lady. +Then the Count caused a ship to be got ready, very stout and speedy, +and he made the dame to enter in the boat. He set also on the ship an +untouched barrel, very high and strong. These three lords climbed into +the nave, with no other company, save those sailors who should labour +at the oar. The Count commanded the mariners to put the ship to sea, +and all marvelled greatly as to what he purposed, but there was none +so bold as to ask him any questions. When they had rowed a great way +from the land, the Count bade them to strike the head from out the +barrel. He took that dame, his own child, who was so dainty and so +fair, and thrust her in the tun, whether she would or whether she +would not. This being done he caused the cask to be made fast again +with staves and wood, so that the water might in no manner enter +therein. Afterwards he dragged the barrel to the edge of the deck, and +with his own hand cast it into the sea, saying, + +"I commend thee to the wind and waves." + +Passing heavy was Messire Thibault at this, and the lady's brother +also, and all who saw. They fell at the Count's feet, praying him of +his grace that she might be delivered from the barrel. So hot was his +wrath that he would not grant their prayer, for aught that they might +do or say. They therefore left him to his rage, and turning to the +Heavenly Father, besought our Lord Jesus Christ that of His most sweet +pity He would have mercy on her soul, and give her pardon for her +sins. + +The ship came again to land, leaving the lady in sore peril and +trouble, even as the tale has told you. But our Lord Jesus Christ, who +is Lord and Father of all, and desireth not the death of a sinner, but +rather that he should turn from his wickedness and live--as each day +He showeth us openly by deed, by example and by miracle--sent succour +to this lady, even as you shall hear. For a ship from Flanders, laden +with merchandise, marked this barrel drifting at the mercy of winds +and waters, before ever the Count and his companions were come ashore. +One of the merchants said to his comrades, + +"Friends, behold a barrel drifting in our course. If we may reach it, +perchance we may find it to our gain." + +This ship was wont to traffic with the Saracens in their country, so +the sailors rowed towards the barrel, and partly by cunning and partly +by strength, at the last got it safely upon the deck. The merchants +looked long at the cask. They wondered greatly what it could be, and +wondering, they saw that the head of the barrel was newly closed. They +opened the cask, and found therein a woman at the point of death, for +air had failed her. Her body was gross, her visage swollen, and the +eyes started horribly from her head. When she breathed the fresh air +and felt the wind blow upon her, she sighed a little, so that the +merchants standing by, spoke comfortably to her, but she might not +answer them a word. In the end, heart and speech came again to her. +She spoke to the chapmen and the sailors who pressed about her, and +much she marvelled how she found herself amongst them. When she +perceived that she was with merchants and Christian men she was the +more easy, and fervently she praised Jesus Christ in her heart, +thanking Him for the loving kindness which had kept her from death. +For this lady was altogether contrite in heart, and earnestly desired +to amend her life towards God, repenting the trespass she had done +to others, and fearing the judgment that was rightly her due. The +merchants inquired of the lady whence she came, and she told them the +truth, saying that she was a miserable wretch and a poor sinner, as +they could see for themselves. She related the cruel adventure which +had chanced to her, and prayed them to take pity on a most unhappy +lady, and they answered that mercy they would show. So with meat and +drink her former beauty came to her again. + +Now this merchant ship fared so far that she came to the land of the +Paynims, and cast anchor in the port of Aumarie. Galleys of these +Saracens came to know their business, and they answered that they were +traffickers in divers merchandise in many a realm. They showed them +also the safe conduct they carried of princes and mighty lords that +they might pass in safety through their countries to buy and sell +their goods. The merchants got them to land in this port, taking the +lady with them. They sought counsel one of the other to know what it +were best to do with her. One was for selling her as a slave, but his +companion proposed to give her as a sop to the rich Soudan of Aumarie, +that their business should be the less hindered. To this they all +agreed. They arrayed the lady freshly in broidered raiment, and +carried her before the Soudan, who was a lusty young man. He accepted +their gift, receiving the lady with a right glad heart, for she was +passing fair. The Soudan inquired of them as to who she was. + +"Sire," answered the merchants, "we know no more than you, but +marvellous was the fashion in which she came to our hands." + +The gift was so greatly to the Soudan's mind that he served the +chapmen to the utmost of his power. He loved the lady very tenderly, +and entreated her in all honour. He held and tended her so well, that +her sweet colour came again to her, and her beauty increased beyond +measure. The Soudan sought to know by those who had the gift of +tongues as to the lady's home and race, but these she would not reveal +to any. He was the more thoughtful therefore, because he might see +that she was a dame of birth and lineage. He inquired of her as to +whether she were a Christian woman, promising that if she would deny +her faith, he would take her as his wife, since he was yet unwed. The +lady saw clearly that it were better to be converted by love than +perforce; so she answered that her religion was to do her master's +pleasure. When she had renounced her faith, and rejected the Christian +law, the Soudan made her his dame according to the use and wont of +this country of the Paynim. He held her very dear, cherishing her in +all honour, for his love waxed deeper as the days wore on. + +In due time it was with this lady after the manner of women, and she +came to bed of a son. The Soudan rejoiced greatly, being altogether +merry and content. The lady, for her part, lived in fair fellowship +with the folk of her husband's realm. Very courteous was she, and +very serviceable, so that presently she was instructed in the Saracen +tongue. In no long while after the birth of her son she conceived of +a maid, who in the years that befell grew passing sweet and fair, and +richly was she nurtured as became the daughter of so high a prince. +Thus for two years and a half the lady dwelt with the Paynim in much +softness and delight. + +Now the story keeps silence as to the lady and the Soudan, her +husband, till later, as you may hear, and returns to the Count of +Ponthieu, the son of the Count, and to my lord Thibault of Dommare, +who were left grieving for the dame who was flung into the sea, as you +have heard, nor knew aught of her tidings, but deemed that she were +rather dead than alive. Now tells the story--and the truth bears +witness to itself and is its own confirmation--that the Count was in +Ponthieu, together with his son, and Messire Thibault. Very heavy was +the Count, for in no wise could he get his daughter from his mind, +and grievously he lamented the wrong that he had done her. Messire +Thibault dared not take to himself another wife, because of the +anguish of his friend. The son of the Count might not wed also; +neither durst he to become knight, though he was come to an age when +such things are greatly to a young man's mind. + +On a day the Count considered deeply the sin that he had committed +against his own flesh. He sought the Archbishop of Rheims in +confession, and opened out his grief, telling in his ear the crime +that he had wrought. He determined to seek those holy fields beyond +the sea, and sewed the Cross upon his mantle. When Messire Thibault +knew that his lord, the Count, had taken the Cross, he confessed him, +and did likewise. And when the Count's son was assured of the purpose +of his sire and of Messire Thibault, whom he loved dearly, he took the +Cross with them. Passing heavy was the Count to mark the Sign upon his +son's raiment. + +"Fair son, what is this you have done; for now the land remains +without a lord!" + +The son answered, and said, "Father, I wear the Sign first and +foremost for the love of God; afterwards for the saving of my soul, +and by reason that I would serve and honour Him to the utmost of my +power, so long as I have life in my body." + +The Count put his realm in ward full wisely. He used diligence in +making all things ready, and bade farewell to his friends. Messire +Thibault and the son of the Count ordered their business, and the +three set forth together, with a fair company. They came to that holy +land beyond the sea, safe of person and of gear. There they made +devout pilgrimage to every place where they were persuaded it was meet +to go, and God might be served. When the Count had done all that +he was able, he deemed that there was yet one thing to do. He gave +himself and his fellowship to the service of the Temple for one year; +and at the end of this term he purposed to seek his country and his +home. He sent to Acre, and made ready a ship against his voyage. He +took his leave of the Knights Templar, and other lords of that land, +and greatly they praised him for the worship that he had brought them. +When the Count and his company were come to Acre they entered in the +ship, and departed from the haven with a fair wind. But little was +their solace. For when they drew to the open sea a strong and horrible +tempest sprang suddenly upon them, so that the sailors knew not where +they went, and feared each hour that all would be drowned. So piteous +was their plight that, with ropes, they bound themselves one to +another, the son to the father, the uncle to the nephew, according as +they stood. The Count, his son, and Messire Thibault for their part, +fastened themselves together, so that the same end should chance to +all. In no long time after this was done they saw land, and inquired +of the shipmen whither they were come. The mariners answered that this +realm belonged to the Paynim, and was called the Land of Aumarie. They +asked of the Count, + +"Sire, what is your will that we do? If we seek the shore, doubtless +we shall be made captives, and fall into the hands of the Saracen." + +The Count made answer, "Not my will, but the will of Jesus Christ be +done. Let the ship go as He thinks best. We will commit our bodies and +our lives to His good keeping, for a fouler and an uglier death we +cannot die, than to perish in this sea." + +They drove with the wind along the coast of Aumarie, and the galleys +and warships of the Saracens put out to meet them. Be assured that +this was no fair meeting, for the Paynims took them and led them +before the Soudan, who was lord of that realm. There they gave him +the goods and the bodies of these Christians as a gift. The Soudan +sundered this fair fellowship, setting them in many places and in +divers prisons; but since the Count, his son, and Messire Thibault +were so securely bound together, he commanded that they should be cast +into a dungeon by themselves, and fed upon the bread of affliction and +the water of affliction. So it was done, even as he commanded. In this +prison they lay for a space, till such time as the Count's son fell +sick. His sickness was so grievous that the Count and Messire Thibault +feared greatly that this sorrow was to death. + +Now it came to pass that the Soudan held high Court because of the day +of his birth, for such was the custom of the Saracens. After they had +well eaten, the Saracens stood before the Soudan, and said, + +"Sire, we require of you our right." + +He inquired of what right they were speaking, and they answered, + +"Sire, a Christian captive to set as a mark for our arrows." + +When the Soudan heard this he gave no thought to such a trifle, but +made reply, + +"Get you to the prison, and take out that captive who has the least of +life in him." + +The Paynim hastened to the dungeon, and brought forth the Count, +bearded, unkempt and foredone. The Soudan marked his melancholy case, +so he said to them, "This man has not long to live; take him hence, +and do your will on him." + +The wife of the Soudan, of whom you have heard, the daughter of this +very Count, was in the hall, when they brought forth her father to +slay him. Immediately that her eyes fell upon him the blood in her +veins turned to water; not so much that she knew him as her sire, but +rather that Nature tugged at her heart strings. Then spake the dame to +the Soudan, "Husband, I, too, am French, and would gladly speak with +this poor wretch ere he die, if so I may." + +"Wife," answered the Soudan, "truly, yes; it pleases me well." + +The lady came to the Count. She took him apart, and bidding the +Saracens fall back, she inquired of him whence he was. + +"Lady, I am from the kingdom of France, of a county that men call +Ponthieu." + +When the lady heard this her bowels were moved. Earnestly she demanded +his name and race. + +"Of a truth, lady, I have long forgotten my father's house, for I have +suffered such pain and anguish since I departed, that I would rather +die than live. But this you may know, that I--even the man who speaks +to you--was once the Count of Ponthieu." + +The lady hearkened to this, but yet she made no sign. She went from +the Count, and coming to the Soudan, said, + +"Husband, give me this captive as a gift, if such be your pleasure. He +knows chess and draughts and many fair tales to bring solace to the +hearer. He shall play before you, and we will make our pastime of his +skill." + +"Wife," answered the Soudan, "I grant him to you very willingly; do +with him as you wish." + +The lady took the captive, and bestowed him in her chamber. The +gaolers sought another in his stead, and brought forth my lord +Thibault, the husband to the dame. He came out in tatters, for he was +clothed rather in his long hair and great beard, than in raiment. His +body was lean and bony, and he seemed as one who had endured pain and +sorrow enough, and to spare. When the lady saw him she said to the +Soudan, + +"Husband, with this one also would I gladly speak, if so I may." + +"Wife," answered the Soudan, "it pleases me well." + +The lady came to my lord Thibault, and inquired of him whence he was. + +"Lady, I am of the realm of that ancient gentleman who was taken from +prison before me. I had his daughter to wife, and am his knight." + +The lady knew well her lord, so she returned to the Soudan, and said +to him, "Husband, great kindness will you show me, if you give me this +captive also." + +"Wife," said the Soudan, "I grant him to you very willingly." + +She thanked him sweetly, and bestowed the gift in her chamber, with +the other. + +The archers hastened together, and drawing before the Soudan said, +"Sire, you do us wrong, for the day is far spent." + +They went straight to the prison, and brought forth the son of the +Count, shagged and filthy, as one who had not known of water for many +a day. He was a young man, so young that his beard had not come on +him, but for all his youth he was so thin and sick and weak, that +he scarce could stand upon his feet. When the lady saw him she had +compassion upon him. She came to him asking whose son he was and of +his home, and he replied that he was son to that gentleman, who was +first brought out of the dungeon. She knew well that this was her +brother, but she made herself strange unto him. + +"Husband," said she to the Soudan, "verily you will shew kindness to +your wife beyond measure if you grant me this captive. He knows chess +and draughts and other delights passing fair to see and hear." + +And the Soudan made answer, "Wife, by our holy law if they were a +hundred I would give them all to you gladly." + +The lady thanked him tenderly, and bestowed the captive swiftly in +her chamber. The Saracens went again to the prison and fetched out +another, but the lady left him to his fate, when she looked upon his +face. So he won a martyr's crown, and our Lord Jesus Christ received +his soul. As for the dame, she hid herself from the sight, for it gave +her little joy, this slaying of the Christian by the Paynims. + +The lady came to her chamber, and at her coming the captives would +have got them to their feet, but she made signs that they should +remain seated. Drawing close she made gestures of friendship. The +Count, who was very shrewd, asked at this, "Lady, when will they slay +us?" + +She answered that their time had not yet come. + +"Lady," said he, "the sorer grief is ours, for we are so anhungered, +that for a little our souls would leave our bodies." + +The lady went out, and bade meat to be made ready. This she carried +in, giving to each a little, and to each a little drink. When they had +eaten, they had yet greater hunger than before. In this manner she fed +them, little by little, ten times a day, for she deemed that should +they eat to their desire, they would die of repletion. For this reason +she caused them to break their fast temperately. Thus the good lady +dealt with them for the first seven days, and at nights, by her grace, +they lay softly at their ease. She did away with their rags, and clad +them in seemly apparel. When the week was done she set before them +meat and drink to their heart's desire, so that their strength +returned to them again. They had chess and draughts, and played these +games to their great content. The Soudan was often with them. He +watched the play, and took pleasure in their gladness. But the lady +refrained, so that none might conceive, either by speech or fashion, +that he had known her before. + +Now a short while after this matter of the captives, the story tells +that the Soudan had business enough of his own, for a mighty Sultan +laid waste his realm, and sought to do him much mischief. To avenge +his wrong the Soudan commanded his vassals from every place, and +assembled a great host. When the lady knew this, she entered the +chamber where the captives lay, and sitting amidst them lifted her +hand, and said, "Sirs, you have told me somewhat of your business; now +will I be assured whether you are true men or not. You told me that in +your own land you were once the Count of Ponthieu, that this man was +wedded to your daughter, and that this other was your son. Know that I +am a Saracen, having the science of astrology; so I tell you plainly +that you were never so near to a shameful death, as you are now, if +you hide from me the truth. What chanced to your daughter, the wife of +this knight?" + +"Lady," replied the Count, "I deem her to be dead." + +"How came she to her death?" + +"Certes, lady," said the Count, "because for once she received her +deserts." + +"Tell me of these deservings," said the dame. + +Then the Count began to tell, with tears, of how she was wedded, but +was yet a barren wife; how the good knight vowed pilgrimage to my lord +St. James in Galicia, and how the lady prayed that she might go with +him, which prayer he granted willingly. He told how they went their +way with joy, till alone, in the deep wood, they met with sturdy +felons who set upon them. The good knight might do nothing against so +many, for he was a naked man; but despite of all, he slew three, and +five were left, who killed his palfrey, and spoiling him to the very +shirt, bound him hands and feet, and flung him into a thorn bush. They +spoiled the lady also and stole her palfrey from her. When they looked +upon her, and saw that she was fair, each would have taken her. +Afterwards they accorded that she should be to all, and having +had their will in her despite, they departed and left her weeping +bitterly. This the good knight saw, so he besought her courteously to +unloose his hands, that they might get them from the wood. But the +lady marked a sword belonging to one of these felons that were slain. +She handselled it, and hastening where he lay, cried in furious +fashion, "You are unbound already." Then she raised the naked sword, +and struck at his body. But by the loving kindness of God, and the +vigour of the knight, she but sundered the bonds that bound him, so +that he sprang forth, and wounded as he was, cried, "Dame, by the +grace of God it is not to-day that you shall kill me with the sword." + +At this word that fair lady, the wife of the Soudan, spoke suddenly, +and said, + +"Ah, sir, you have told the tale honestly, and very clear it is why +she would have slain him." + +"For what reason, lady?" + +"Certes," answered she, "for reason of the great shame which had +befallen her." + +When Messire Thibault heard this he wept right tenderly, and said, +"Alas, what part had she in this wickedness! May God keep shut the +doors of my prison if I had shown her the sourer face therefore, +seeing that her will was not in the deed." + +"Sir," said the lady, "she feared your reproach. But tell me which is +the more likely, that she be alive or dead?" + +"Lady," said Thibault, "we know not what to think." + +"Well I know," cried the Count, "of the great anguish we have +suffered, by reason of the sin I sinned against her." + +"If it pleased God that she were yet living," inquired the lady, "and +tidings were brought which you could not doubt, what would you have to +say?" + +"Lady," said the Count, "I should be happier than if I were taken from +this prison, or were granted more wealth than ever I have had in my +life." + +"Lady," said Messire Thibault, "so God give me no joy of my heart's +dearest wish, if I had not more solace than if men crowned me King of +France." + +"Certes, lady," said the dansellon, who was her brother, "none could +give or promise me aught so sweet, as the life of that sister, who was +so fair and good." + +When the lady hearkened to these words her heart yearned with +tenderness. She praised God, rendering Him thanks, and said to them, +"Be sure that you speak with unfeigned lips." + +And they answered and said that they spoke with unfeigned lips. Then +the lady began to weep with happy tears, and said to them, "Sir, now +may you truly say that you are my father, for I am that daughter on +whom you wrought such bitter justice. And you, Messire Thibault, are +my lord and husband; and you, sir dansellon, are my brother." + +Then she rehearsed to them in what manner she was found of the +chapmen, and how they bestowed her as a gift on the Soudan. They were +very glad, and rejoiced mightily, humbling themselves before her, but +she forbade them to show their mirth, saying, "I am a Saracen, and +have renounced the faith; otherwise I should not be here, but were +dead already. Therefore I pray and beseech you as you love your lives +and would prolong your days, whatever you may see or hear, not to show +me any affection, but keep yourselves strange to me, and leave me to +unravel the coil. Now I will tell why I have revealed myself to you. +My husband, the Soudan, rides presently to battle. I know well, +Messire Thibault, that you are a hardy knight, and I will pray the +Soudan to take you with him. If ever you were brave, now is the time +to make it plain. See to it that you do him such service that he have +no grievance against you." + +The lady departed forthwith, and coming before the Soudan, said, +"Husband, one of my captives desires greatly to go with you, if such +be your pleasure." + +"Wife," answered he, "I dare not put myself in his hand, for fear that +he may do me a mischief." + +"Husband, he will not dare to be false, since I hold his companions as +hostages." + +"Wife," said he, "I will take him with me, because of your counsel, +and I will deliver him a good horse and harness, and all that warrior +may require." + +The lady returned straightway to the chamber. She said to Messire +Thibault, "I have persuaded the Soudan to bring you to the battle. Act +therefore manfully." + +At this her brother knelt at her knee, praying her to plead with the +Soudan that he might go also. + +"That I may not do," said she, "or the thing will be too clear." + +The Soudan ordered his business, and went forth, Messire Thibault +being with him, and came upon the enemy. According to his word, the +Soudan had given to the knight both horse and harness. By the will of +Jesus Christ, who faileth never such as have faith and affiance in +Him, Messire Thibault did such things in arms that in a short space +the enemies of the Soudan were put under his feet. The Soudan rejoiced +greatly at his knight's deeds and his victory, and returned bringing +many captives with him. He went straight to the dame, and said, "Wife, +by my law I have naught but good to tell of your prisoner, for he has +done me faithful service. So he deny his faith, and receive our holy +religion, I will grant him broad lands, and find him a rich heiress in +marriage." + +"Husband, I know not, but I doubt if he will do this thing." + +No more was spoken of the matter; but the lady set her house in order, +as best she was able, and coming to her captives said, "Sirs, go +warily, so that the Saracens see nothing of what is in our mind; for, +please God, we shall yet win to France and the county of Ponthieu." + +On a day the lady came before the Soudan. She went in torment, and +lamented very grievously. + +"Husband, it is with me as it was before. Well I know it, for I have +fallen into sore sickness, and my food has no relish in my mouth, no, +not since you went to the battle." + +"Wife, I am right glad to hear that you are with child, although your +infirmity is very grievous unto me. Consider and tell me those things +that you deem will be to your healing, and I will seek and procure +them whatever the cost." + +When the lady heard this, her heart beat lightly in her breast. She +showed no semblance of joy, save this only, that she said, "Husband, +my old captive tells me that unless I breathe for awhile such air as +that of my native land, and that quickly, I am but dead, for in nowise +have I long to live." + +"Wife," said the Soudan, "your death shall not be on my conscience. +Consider and show me where you would go, and there I will cause you to +be taken." + +"Husband, it is all one to me, so I be out of this city." + +Then the Soudan made ready a ship, both fair and strong, and garnished +her plenteously with wines and meats. + +"Husband," said the lady to the Soudan, "I will take of my captives +the aged and the young, that they may play chess and draughts at my +bidding, and I will carry with me my son for my delight." + +"Wife," answered he, "your will is my pleasure. But what shall be done +with the third captive?" + +"Husband, deal with him after your desire." + +"Wife, I desire that you take him on the ship; for he is a brave man, +and will keep you well, both on land and sea, if you have need of his +sword." + +The lady took leave of the Soudan, bidding him farewell, and urgently +he prayed her to return so soon as she was healed of her sickness. The +stores being put upon the ship and all things made ready, they entered +therein and set sail from the haven. With a fair wind they went very +swiftly, so that the shipmen sought the lady, saying, "Madam, this +wind is driving the boat to Brindisi. Is it your pleasure to take +refuge there, or to go elsewhere?" + +"Let the ship keep boldly on her course," answered the lady to them, +"for I speak French featly and other tongues also, so I will bring you +to a good end." + +They made such swift passage by day and by night, that according to +the will of Our Lord they came quickly to Brindisi. The ship cast +anchor safely in the harbour, and they lighted on the shore, being +welcomed gladly by the folk of that country. The lady, who was very +shrewd, drew her captives apart, and said, "Sirs, I desire you to +call to mind the pledge and the covenant you have made. I must now be +certain that you are true men, remembering your oaths and plighted +words. I pray you to let me know, by all that you deem of God, whether +you will abide or not by our covenant together; for it is yet not too +late to return to my home." + +They answered, "Lady, know beyond question that the bargain we have +made we will carry out loyally. By our faith in God and as christened +men we will abide by this covenant; so be in no doubt of our +assurance." + +"I trust you wholly," replied the lady; "but, sirs, see here my son, +whom I had of the Soudan, what shall we do with him?" + +"Lady, the boy is right welcome, and to great honour shall he come in +our own land." + +"Sirs," said the dame, "I have dealt mischievously with the Soudan, +for I have stolen my person from him, and the son who was so dear to +his heart." + +The lady went again to the shipmen, and lifting her hand, said to +them, "Sirs, return to the Soudan whence you came, and greet him with +this message. Tell him that I have taken from him my body and the son +he loved so well, that I might deliver my father, my lord, and my +brother from the prison where they were captive." + +When the sailors heard this they were very dolent, but there was +naught that they might do. They set sail for their own country, sad +and very heavy by reason of the lady, of the young lad, whom they +loved greatly, and of the captives who were escaped altogether from +their hand. + +For his part the Count arrayed himself meetly by grace of merchants +and Templars, who lent him gladly of their wealth. He abode in the +town, together with his fellowship, for their solace, till they made +them ready for the journey, and took the road to Rome. The Count +sought the Pontiff, and his company with him. Each confessed him +of the secrets of his heart, and when the Bishop heard thereof, +he accepted their devotion, and comforted them right tenderly. He +baptised the child, who was named William. He reconciled the lady with +Holy Church, and confirmed the lady and Messire Thibault her lord, in +their marriage bond, reknitting them together, giving penance to each, +and absolution for their sins. After this they made no long sojourn +in Rome, but took their leave of the Apostle who had honoured them so +greatly. He granted them his benison, and commended them to God. So +they went their way in great solace and delight, praising God and His +Mother, and all the calendar of saints, and rendering thanks for the +mercies which had been vouchsafed to them. Journeying thus they +came at last to the country of their birth, and were met by a fair +procession of bishops and abbots, monks and priests, who had desired +them fervently. But of all these welcomes they welcomed most gladly +her who was recovered from death, and had delivered her sire, her +lord, and her brother from the hands of the Paynim, even as you have +heard. There we leave them for awhile, and will tell you of the +shipmen and Saracens who had fared with them across the sea. + +The sailors and Saracens who had carried them to Brindisi, returned +as quickly as they were able, and with a fair wind cast anchor before +Aumarie. They got them to land, very sad and heavy, and told their +tidings to the Soudan. Right sorrowful was the Soudan, and neither for +time nor reason could he forget his grief. Because of this mischief he +loved that daughter the less who tarried with him, and showed her the +less courtesy. Nevertheless the maiden increased in virtue and in +wisdom, so that the Paynim held her in love and honour, praising her +for the good that was known of her. But now the story is silent as to +that Soudan who was so tormented by reason of the flight of his dame +and captives; and comes again to the Count of Ponthieu, who was +welcomed to his realm with such pomp and worship, as became a lord of +his degree. + +In no long while after his return the son of the Count was dubbed +knight, and rich was the feast. He became a knight both chivalrous and +brave. Greatly he loved all honourable men, and gladly he bestowed +fair gifts on the poor knights and poor gentlewomen of the country. +Much was he esteemed of lord and hind, for he was a worthy knight, +generous, valiant and debonair, proud only to his foes. Yet his days +on earth were but a span, which was the sorer pity, for he died +lamented of all. + +Now it befell that the Count held high Court, and many a knight and +lord sat with him at the feast. Amongst these came a very noble man +and knight, of great place, in Normandy, named my lord Raoul des +Preaux. This Raoul had a daughter, passing sweet and fair. The Count +spoke so urgently to Raoul and to the maiden's kin that a marriage +was accorded between William, his grandson, the son of the Soudan of +Aumarie, and the daughter of my lord Raoul, the heiress to all his +wealth. William wedded the damsel with every rich observance, and in +right of his wife this William became Lord of Preaux. + +For a long while the realm had peace from its foes. + +Messire Thibault dwelt with the lady, and had of her two sons, who +in later days were worthy gentlemen of great worship. The son of the +Count of Ponthieu, of whom we have spoken much and naught but good, +died shortly after, to the grief of all the land. The Count of St. Pol +was yet alive; therefore the two sons of my lord Thibault were heirs +to both these realms, and attained thereto in the end. That devout +lady, their mother, because of her contrite heart, gave largely to +the poor; and Messire Thibault, like the honourable gentleman he was, +abounded in good works so long as he was quick. + +Now it chanced that the daughter of the lady, who abode with the +Soudan her father, increased greatly in favour and in virtue. She was +called The Fair Captive, by reason that her mother had left her in +the Soudan's keeping, as you have heard. A certain brave Turk in the +service of the Soudan--Malakin of Baudas by name--saw this damsel, so +fair and gracious, and desired her dearly in his heart, because of the +good men told of her. He came before his master, and said to him, + +"Sire, in return for his labour your servant craves a gift." + +"Malakin," returned the Soudan, "what gift would you have?" + +"Sire, I would dare to tell it to your face, if only she were not so +high above my reach." + +The Sultan who was both shrewd and quick witted made reply, + +"Say out boldly what is in your mind, for I hold you dear, and +remember what you have done. If there is aught it beseems me to +grant--saving only my honour--be assured that it is yours." + +"Sire, well I know that your honour is without spot, nor would I seek +anything against it. I pray you to bestow on your servant--if so it be +your pleasure--my lady your daughter, for she is the gift I covet most +in all the world." + +The Soudan kept silence, and considered for a space. He knew well that +Malakin was both valiant and wise, and might easily come to great +honour and degree. Since the servant was worthy of his high desire, +the Soudan said, "By my law you have required of me a great thing, for +I love my daughter dearly, and have no other heir. You know well, and +it is the simple truth, that she comes of the best and bravest blood +in France, for her mother is the child of the Count of Ponthieu. But +since you too are valiant, and have done me loyal service, for my part +I will give her to you willingly, save only that it be to the maiden's +mind." + +"Sire," said Malakin, "I would not take her against her wish." + +The Soudan bade the girl be summoned. When she came, he said, "Fair +daughter, I have granted you in marriage, if it pleases you." + +"Sir," answered the maiden, "my pleasure is in your will." + +The Soudan took her by the hand, saying, "Take her, Malakin, the maid +is yours." + +Malakin received her with a glad heart, and wedded her according to +the Paynim rite, bringing her to his house right joyously, with the +countenance of all his friends. Afterwards he returned with her to his +own land. The Soudan escorted them upon their way, with such a fair +company of his household as seemed good to him. Then he bade farewell +to his child and her lord, and returned to his home. But a great part +of his fellowship he commanded to go with her for their service, +Malakin came back to his own land, where he was welcomed right gladly +of his friends, and served and honoured by all the folk of his realm. +He lived long and tenderly with his wife, neither were they childless, +as this story testifies. For of this lady, who was called the Fair +Captive, was born the mother of that courteous Turk, the Sultan +Saladin, an honourable, a wise, and a conquering lord. + + + + +XVII + + +THE CHATELAINE OF VERGI + +There are divers men who make a great show of loyalty, and pretend to +such discretion in the hidden things they hear, that at the end folk +come to put faith in them. When by their false seeming they have +persuaded the simple to open out to them their love and their deeds, +then they noise the matter about the country, and make it their song +and their mirth. Thus it chances that the lesser joy is his who has +bared to them his heart. For the sweeter the love, the more bitter is +the pang that lovers know, when each deems the other to have bruited +abroad the secret he should conceal. Oftentimes these blabbers do such +mischief with their tongue, that the love they spoil comes to its +close in sorrow and in care. This indeed happened in Burgundy to a +brave and worthy knight, and to the Lady of Vergi. This knight loved +his lady so dearly that she granted him her tenderness, on such +covenant as this--that the day he showed her favour to any, that very +hour he would lose the love and the grace she bestowed on him. To seal +this bond they devised together that the knight should come a days to +an orchard, at such hour as seemed good to his friend. He must remain +coy in his nook within the wall till he might see the lady's lapdog +run across the orchard. Then without further tarrying he should enter +her chamber, knowing full well she was alone, whom so fondly he +desired to greet. This he did, and in this fashion they met together +for a great while, none being privy to their sweet and stolen love, +save themselves alone. + +The knight was courteous and fair, and by reason of his courage was +right welcome to that Duke who was lord of Burgundy. He came and went +about the Court, and that so often that the Duchess set her mind upon +him. She cared so little to hide her thought, that had his heart not +been in another's keeping, he must surely have perceived in her eyes +that she loved him. But however tender her semblance the knight showed +no kindness in return, for he marked nothing of her inclination. +Passing troubled was the dame that he should treat her thus; so that +on a day she took him apart, and sought to make him of her counsel. + +"Sir, as men report, you are a brave and worthy knight, for the which +give God thanks. It would not be more than your deserts, if you had +for friend a lady in so high a place that her love would bring to you +both honour and profit. How richly could such a lady serve you!" + +"Lady," said he, "I have never yet had this in my thought." + +"By my faith," she answered, "it seems to me that the longer you wait, +the less is your hope. Perchance the lady will stoop very readily from +her throne, if you but kneel at her knee." + +The knight replied, "Lady, by my faith, I know little why you speak +such words, and I understand their meaning not at all. I am neither +duke nor count to dare to set my love in so high a seat. There is +nought in me to gain the love of so sovereign a dame, pain me how I +may." + +"Such things have been," said she, "and so may chance again. Many more +marvellous works have been wrought than this, and the day of miracles +is not yet past. Tell me, know you not yet that you have gained the +love of some high princess, even mine?" + +The knight made answer forthwith, "Lady, I know it not. I would desire +to have your love in a fair and honourable fashion; but may God keep +me from such love between us, as would put shame upon my lord. In no +manner, nor for any reason, will I enter on such a business as would +lead me to deal my true and lawful lord so shrewd and foul a wrong." + +Bitter at heart was the dame to see her love so scorned. + +"Fie upon you," she cried, "and who required of you any such thing?" + +"Ah, lady, to God be the praise; you have said enough to make your +meaning passing plain." + +The lady strove no more to show herself kind to him. Great was the +wrath and sharp the malice that she hid within her heart, and well she +purposed that, if she might, she would avenge herself speedily. All +the day she considered her anger. That night as she lay beside the +Duke she began to sigh, and afterwards to weep. Presently the Duke +inquired of her grief, bidding her show it him forthwith. + +"Certes," said the dame, "I make this great sorrow because no prince +can tell who is his faithful servant, and who is not. Often he gives +the more honour and wealth to those who are traitors rather than +friends, and sees nothing of their wrong." + +"In faith, wife," answered the Duke, "I know not why you speak these +words. At least I am free of such blame as this, for in nowise would I +nourish a traitor, if only a traitor I knew him to be." + +"Hate then this traitor," cried she,--and she named a name--"who gives +me no peace, praying and requiring me the livelong day that I should +grant him my love. For a great while he had been in this mind--as he +says--but did not dare to speak his thoughts. I considered the whole +matter, fair lord, and resolved to show it you at once. It is likely +enough to be true that he cherished this hope, for we have never heard +that he loves elsewhere. I entreat you in guerdon, to look well to +your own honour, since this, as you know, is your duty and right." + +Passing grievous was this business to the Duke. He answered to the +lady, + +"I will bring it to a head, and very quickly, as I deem." + +That night the Duke lay upon a bed of little ease. He could neither +sleep nor rest, by reason of that lord, his friend, who, he was +persuaded, had done him such bitter wrong as justly to have forfeited +his love. Because of this he kept vigil the whole night through. He +rose very early on the morrow, and bade him come whom his wife had put +to blame, although he had done nothing blameworthy. Then he took him +to task, man to man, when there were but these two together. + +"Certes," he said, "it is a heavy grief that you who are so comely +and brave, should yet have no honour in you. You have deceived me the +more, for I have long believed you to be a man of good faith, giving +loyalty, at least, to me, in return for the love I have given to you. +I know not how you can have harboured such a felon's wish, as to pray +and require the Duchess to grant you her grace. You are guilty of such +treachery that conduct more vile it would be far to seek. Get you +hence from my realm. You have my leave to part, and it is denied to +you for ever. If you return here it will be at your utmost peril, for +I warn you beforehand that if I lay hands upon you, you will die a +shameful death." + +When the knight heard this judgment, such wrath and mortification +were his that his members trembled beneath him. He called to mind his +friend, of whom he would have no joy, if he might not come and go and +sojourn in that realm from which the Duke had banished him. Moreover +he was sick at heart that his lord should deem him a disloyal traitor, +without just cause. He knew such sore discomfort that he held himself +as dead and betrayed. + +"Sire," said he, "for the love of God believe this never, neither +think that I have been so bold. To do that of which you wrongfully +charge me, has never entered my mind, not one day, nor for one single +hour. Who has told you this lie has wrought a great ill." + +"You gain nothing by such denials," answered the Duke, "for of a +surety the thing is true. I have heard from her own lips the very +guise and fashion in which you prayed and required her love, like the +envious traitor that you are. Many another word it may well be that +you spoke, as to which the lady of her courtesy keeps silence." + +"My lady says what it pleases her to say," replied the dolorous +knight, "and my denials are lighter than her word. Naught is there for +me to say; nothing is left for me to do, so that I may be believed +that this adventure never happened." + +"Happen it did, by my soul," said the Duke, remembering certain words +of his wife. Well he deemed that he might be assured of the truth, +if but the lady's testimony were true that this lord had never loved +otherwhere. Therefore the Duke said to the knight, "If you will pledge +your faith to answer truly what I may ask, I shall be certified by +your words whether or not you have done this deed of which I misdoubt +you." + +The knight had but one desire--to turn aside his lord's wrath, which +had so wrongfully fallen upon him. He feared only lest he should be +driven from the land where lodged the dame who was the closest to his +mind. Knowing nothing of what was in the Duke's thought, he considered +that his question could only concern the one matter; so he replied +that without fraud or concealment he would do as his lord had said. +Thus he pledged his faith, and the Duke accepted his affiance. + +When this was done the Duke made question, + +"I have loved you so dearly that at the bottom of my heart I cannot +believe you guilty of such shameless misdoing as the Duchess tells me. +I would not credit it a moment, if you yourself were not the cause of +my doubtfulness. From your face, the care you bestow upon your person, +and a score of trifles, any who would know, can readily see that you +are in love with some lady. Since none about the Court perceives +damsel or dame on whom you have set your heart, I ask myself whether +indeed it may not be my wife, who tells me that you have entreated her +for love. Nothing that any one may do can take this suspicion from my +mind, except you tell me yourself that you love elsewhere, making it +so plain that I am left without doubt that I know the naked truth. If +you refuse her name you will have broken your oath, and forth from my +realm you go as an outlawed man." + +The knight had none to give him counsel. To himself he seemed to stand +at the parting of two ways, both one and the other leading to death. +If he spoke the simple truth (and tell he must if he would not be a +perjurer) then was he as good as dead; for if he did such wrong as to +sin against the covenant with his lady and his friend, certainly he +would lose her love, so it came to her knowledge. But if he concealed +the truth from the Duke, then he was false to his oath, and had lost +both country and friend. But little he recked of country, so only he +might keep his Love, since of all his riches she was the most dear. +The knight called to heart and remembrance the fair joy and the solace +that were his when he had this lady between his arms. He considered +within himself that if by reason of his misdoing she came to harm, or +were lost to him, since he might not take her where he went, how could +he live without her. It would be with him also, as erst with the +Castellan of Couci, who having his Love fast only in his heart, told +over in his song, + + Ah, God, strong Love, I sit and weep alone, + Remembering the solace that was given; + The tender guise, the semblance that was shown + By her, my friend, my comrade, and my Heaven. + + When grief brings back the joy that was mine own, + I would the heart from out my breast were riven. + Ah, Lord, the sweet words hushed, the beauty flown; + Would God that I were dead, and low, and shriven. + +The knight was in anguish such as this, for he knew not whether to +make clear the truth, or to lie and be banished from the country. + +Whilst he was deep in thought, turning over in his mind what it were +best to do, tears rose in his heart and flowed from his eyes, so that +his face was wet, by reason of the sorrow that he suffered. The Duke +had no more mirth than the knight, deeming that his secret was so +heavy that he dared not make it plain. The Duke spoke swiftly to his +friend, + +"I see clearly that you fear to trust me wholly, as a knight should +trust his lord. If you confess your counsel privily to me, you cannot +think that I shall show the matter to any man. I would rather have my +teeth drawn one by one, than speak a word." + +"Ah," cried the knight, "for God's love, have pity, Sire. I know not +what I ought to say, nor what will become of me; but I would rather +die than lose what lose I shall if she only hears that you have the +truth, and that you heard it from my lips, whilst I am a living man." + +The Duke made answer, + +"I swear to you by my body and my soul, and on the faith and love I +owe you again by reason of your homage, that never in my life will I +tell the tale to any creature born, or even breathe a word or make a +sign about the business." + +With the tears yet running down his face the knight said to him, + +"Sire, right or wrong, now will I show my secret. I love your niece of +Vergi, and she loves me, so that no friends can love more fondly." + +"If you wish to be believed," replied the Duke, "tell me now, if any, +save you two alone, knows anything of this joy?" + +And the knight made answer to him, + +"Nay, not a creature in the world." + +Then said the Duke, + +"No love is so privy as that. If none has heard thereof, how do you +meet together, and how devise time and place?" + +"By my faith, Sire, I will tell you all, and keep back nothing, since +you know so much of our counsel." + +So he related the whole story of his goings to and fro within the +pleasaunce; of that first covenant with his friend, and of the office +of the little dog. + +Then said the Duke, + +"I require of you that I may be your comrade at such fair meeting. +When you go again to the orchard, I too, would enter therein, and +mark for myself the success of your device. As for my niece she shall +perceive naught." + +"Sire, if it be your will it is my pleasure also; save, only, that you +find it not heavy or burdensome. Know well that I go this very night." + +The Duke said that he would go with him, for the vigil would in no +wise be burdensome, but rather a frolic and a game. They accorded +between them a place of meeting, where they would draw together on +foot, and alone. When nightfall was come they fared to the hostel of +the Duke's niece, for her dwelling was near at hand. They had not +tarried long in the garden, when the Duke saw his niece's lapdog run +straight to that end of the orchard where the knight was hidden. +Wondrous kindness showed the knight to his lady's dog. Immediately he +took his way to her lodging, and left his master in his nook by the +wall. The Duke followed after till he drew near the chamber, and held +himself coy, concealing him as best he might. It was easy enough to +do this, for a great tree stood there, high and leafy, so that he was +covered close as by a shield. From this place he marked the little dog +enter the chamber, and presently saw his niece issue therefrom, and +hurry forth to meet her lover in the pleasaunce. He was so close that +he could see and hear the solace of that greeting, the salutation of +her mouth and of her hands. She embraced him closely in her fair white +arms, kissing him more than a hundred times, whilst she spoke many +comforting words. The knight for his part kissed her again, and held +her fast, praising her with many tender names. + +"My lady, my friend, my love," said he, "heart and mistress and hope, +and the sum of all that I hold dear, know well that I have yearned to +be with you as we are now, every day and all day long since we met." + +"Sweet lord, sweet friend, sweet love," replied the lady, "never has a +day nor an hour gone by but I was awearied of its length. But I grieve +no longer over the past, for I have my heart's desire when you are +with me, joyous and well. Right welcome are you to your friend." + +And the knight made answer, + +"Love, you are welcome and wellmet." + +From his place of hiding, near the entrance to the chamber, the Duke +hearkened to every word. His niece's voice and face were so familiar +to him, that he could not doubt that the Duchess had lied. Greatly was +he content, for he was now assured that his friend had not done amiss +in that of which he had misdoubted him. All through the night he kept +watch and ward. But during his vigil the dame and the knight, close +and sleepless in the chamber, knew such joy and tenderness as it is +not seemly should be told or heard, save of those who hope themselves +to attain such solace, when Love grants them recompense for all their +pains. For he who desires nothing of this joy and quittance, even +if it were told him, would but listen to a tongue he could not +understand, since his heart is not turned to Love, and none can know +the wealth of such riches, except Love whisper it in his ear. Of such +kingdom not all are worthy: for there joy goes without anger, and +solace is crowned with fruition. But so fleet are things sweet, that +to the lover his joy seems to find but a brief content. So pleasant +is the life he passes that he wishes his night a week, his week to +stretch to a month, the month become a year, and one year three, and +three years twenty, and the twenty attain to a hundred. Yea, when the +term and end were reached, he would that the dusk were closing, rather +than the dawn had come. + +This was the case with the lover whom the Duke awaited in the orchard. +When day was breaking, and he durst remain no longer, he came with his +lady to the door. The Duke marked the fashion of their leave-taking, +the kisses given and granted, the sighs and the weeping as they bade +farewell. When they had wept many tears, and devised an hour for their +next meeting, the knight departed in this fashion, and the lady shut +the door. But so long as she might see him, she followed his going +with her pretty eyes, since there was nothing better she could do. + +When the Duke knew the postern was made fast, he hastened on his road +until he overtook the knight, who to himself was making his complaint +of the season, that all too short was his hour. The same thought +and the self same words were hers from whom he had parted, for the +briefness of the time had betrayed her delight, and she had no praises +for the dawn. The knight was deep in his thought and speech, when he +was overtaken by the Duke. The Duke embraced his friend, greeting him +very tenderly. Then he said to him, + +"I pledge my faith that I will love you all the days of my life, never +on any day seeking to do you a mischief, for you have told me the very +truth, and have not lied to me by a single word." + +"Sire," he made answer, "thanks and gramercy. But for the love of +God I require and pray of you that it be your pleasure to hide this +counsel; for I should lose my love, and the peace and comfort of my +life--yea, and should die without sin of my own, if I deemed that any +other in this realm than yourself knew aught of the business." + +"Now speak of it never," replied the Duke. "Know that the counsel +shall be kept so hidden, that by me shall not a syllable be spoken." + +On this covenant they came again whence they had set forth together. +That day, when men sat at meat, the Duke showed to his knight a +friendlier semblance and a fairer courtesy than ever he had done +before. The Duchess felt such wrath and despitefulness at this, +that--without any leasing--she rose from the table, and making +pretence of sudden sickness, went to lie upon her bed, where she found +little softness. When the Duke had eaten and washed and made merry, he +afterwards sought his wife's chamber, and causing her to be seated on +her bed, commanded that none should remain, save himself. So all men +went forth at his word, even as he had bidden. Thereupon the Duke +inquired of the lady how this evil had come to her, and of what she +was sick. She made answer, + +"As God hears me, never till I ate at table did I deem that you had so +little sense or decency, as when I saw you making much of him, who, I +have told you already, strove to bring shame and disgrace on me. When +I watched you entreat him with more favour than even was your wont, +such great sorrow and such great anger took hold on me, that I could +not contain myself in the hall." + +"Sweet friend," replied the Duke, "know that I shall never +believe--either from your lips or from those of any creature in the +world--that the story ever happened as you rehearsed it. I am so deep +in his counsel that he has my quittance, for I have full assurance +that he never dreamed of such a deed. But as to this you must ask of +me no more." + +The Duke went straightway from the chamber, leaving the lady sunk in +thought. However long she had to live, never might she know an hour's +comfort, till she had learnt something of that secret of which the +Duke forbade her to seek further. No denial could now stand in her +way, for in her heart swiftly she devised a means to unriddle this +counsel, so only she might endure until the evening, and the Duke was +in her arms. She was persuaded that, beyond doubt, such solace would +win her wish more surely than wrath or tears. For this purpose she +held herself coy, and when the Duke came to lie at her side she betook +herself to the further side of the bed, making semblance that his +company gave her no pleasure. Well she knew that such show of anger +was the device to put her lord beneath her feet. Therefore she turned +her back upon him, that the Duke might the more easily be drawn by +the cords of her wrath. For this same reason when he had no more than +kissed her, she burst out, + +"Right false and treacherous and disloyal are you to make such a +pretence of affection, who yet have never loved me truly one single +day. All these years of our wedded life I have been foolish enough to +believe, what you took such pains in the telling, that you loved +me with a loyal heart. To-day I see plainly that I was the more +deceived." + +"In what are you deceived?" inquired the Duke. + +"By my faith," cried she, who was sick of her desire, "you warn me +that I be not so bold as to ask aught of that of which you know the +secret." + +"In God's name, sweet wife, of what would you know?" + +"Of all that he has told you, the lies and the follies he has put in +your mind, and led you to believe. But it matters little now whether I +hear it or not, for I remember how small is my gain in being your true +and loving wife. For good or for ill I have shown you all my counsel. +There was nothing that was known and seen of my heart that you were +not told at once; and of your courtesy you repay me by concealing your +mind. Know, now, without doubt, that never again shall I have in you +such affiance, nor grant you my love with such sweetness, as I have +bestowed them in the past." + + +Thereat the Duchess began to weep and sigh, making the most tender +sorrow that she was able. The Duke felt such pity for her grief that +he said to her, + +"Fairest and dearest, your wrath and anger are more heavy than I can +bear; but learn that I cannot tell what you wish me to say without +sinning against my honour too grievously." + +Then she replied forthwith, + +"Husband, if you do not tell me, the reason can only be that you do +not trust me to keep silence in the business. I wonder the more sorely +at this, because there is no matter, either great or small, that you +have told me, which has been published by me. I tell you honestly that +never in my life could I be so indiscreet." + +When she had said this, she betook her again to her tears. The Duke +kissed and embraced her, and was so sick of heart that strength failed +him to keep his purpose. + +"Fair wife," he said to her, "by my soul I am at my wits' end. I have +such trust and faith in you that I deem I should hide nothing, but +show you all that I know. Yet I dread that you will let fall some +word. Know, wife--and I tell it you again--that if ever you betray +this counsel you will get death for your payment." + +The Duchess made answer, + +"I agree to the bargain, for it is not possible that I should deal you +so shrewd a wrong." + +Then he who loved her, because of his faith and his credence in her +word, told all this story of his niece, even as he had learned it from +the knight. He told how those two were alone together in the shadow of +the wall, when the little dog ran to them. He showed plainly of that +coming forth from the chamber, and of the entering in; nothing was +hid, he concealed naught of that he had heard and seen. When the +Duchess understood that the love of a mighty dame was despised for the +sake of a lowly gentlewoman, her humiliation was bitter in her mouth +as death. She showed no semblance of despitefulness, but made covenant +and promise with the Duke to keep the matter close, saying that should +she repeat his tale he might hang her from a tree. + +Time went very heavily with the lady, till she could get speech with +her, whom she hated from the hour she knew her to be the friend of him +who had caused her such shame and grief. She was persuaded that for +this reason he would not give her love, in return for that she set on +him. She confirmed herself in her purpose, that at such time and place +she saw the Duke speaking with his niece, she would go swiftly to the +lady, and tell out all her mind, hiding nothing because it was evil. +Neither time nor place was met, till Pentecost was come, and the Duke +held high Court, commanding to the feast all the ladies of his realm, +amongst the first that lady, his niece, who was the Chatelaine of +Vergi. When the Duchess looked on her, the blood pricked in her veins, +for reason that she hated her more than aught else in the world. She +had the courage to hide her malice, and greeted the lady more gladly +than ever she had done before. But she yearned to show openly the +anger that burned in her heart, and the delay was much against her +mind. On Pentecost, whilst the tables were removed, the Duchess +brought the ladies to her chamber with her, that, apart from the +throng, they might the more graciously attire them for the dance. She +deemed her hour had come, and having no longer the power to refrain +her lips, she said gaily, as if in jest, + +"Chatelaine, array yourself very sweetly, since there is a fair and +worthy lord you have to please." + +The lady answered right simply, + +"In truth, madam, I know not what you are thinking of; but for my part +I wish for no such friendship as may not be altogether according to my +honour and to that of my lord." + +"I grant that readily," replied the Duchess, "you are a good mistress, +and have an apt pupil in your little dog." + +The ladies returned with the Duchess to the hall, where the dances +were already set. They had listened to the tale, but could not mark +the jest. The chatelaine remained in the chamber. Her colour came and +went, and because of her wrath and trouble the heart throbbed thickly +in her breast. She passed within a tiring chamber, where a little +maiden was lying at the foot of the bed; but for grief she might not +perceive her. The chatelaine flung herself upon the bed, bewailing her +evil plight, for she was exceedingly sorrowful. She said, + +"Ah, Lord God, take pity on me! What may this mean, that I have +listened to my lady's reproaches because of the training of my little +dog! This she can have learned from none--as well I know--save from +him whom I have loved, and who has betrayed me. He would never have +shown her this thing, except that he was her familiar friend, and +doubtless loves her more dearly than me, whom he has betrayed. I see +now the value of his oaths, since he finds it so easy to fail in his +covenant. Sweet God, and I loved him so fondly, more fondly than any +woman has loved before; who never had him from my thoughts one single +hour, whether it were night or day. For he was my mirth and my carol; +in him were my joy and my pleasure; he alone was my solace and +comfort. Ah, my friend, how can this have come; you who were always +with me, even when I might not see you with my eyes! What ill has +befallen you, that you durst prove false to me? I deemed you more +faithful--God take me in His keeping--than ever was Tristan to Isoude. +May God pity a poor fool, I loved you half as much again than I had +love for myself. From the first to the last of our friendship, never +by thought, or by word, or by deed, have I done amiss; there is no +wrong doing, trifling or great, to make plain your hatred, or to +excuse so vile a betrayal as this scorning of our love for a fresher +face, this desertion of me, this proclaiming of our secret. Alas, my +friend, I marvel greatly; for as God is my witness my heart was not +thus towards you. If God had offered me all the kingdoms of the world, +yea, and His Heaven and its Paradise besides, I would have refused +them gladly, had my gain meant the losing of you. For you were my +wealth and my song and my health, and nothing can hurt me any more, +since my heart has learnt that yours no longer loves me. Ah, lasting, +precious love! Who could have guessed that he would deal this blow, to +whom I gave the grace of my tenderness--who said that I was his lady +both in body and in soul, and he the slave at my bidding. Yea, he told +it over so sweetly, that I believed him faithfully, nor thought in any +wise that his heart would bear wrath and malice against me, whether +for Duchess or for Queen. How good was this love, since the heart in +my breast must always cleave to his! I counted him to be my friend, in +age as in youth, our lives together; for well I knew that if he died +first I should not dare to endure long without him, because of the +greatness of my love. The grave, with him, would be fairer, than life +in a world where I might never see him with my eyes. Ah, lasting, +precious love! Is it then seemly that he should publish our counsel, +and destroy her who had done him no wrong? When I gave him my love +without grudging, I warned him plainly, and made covenant with him, +that he would lose me the self same hour that he made our tenderness a +song. Since part we must, I may not live after so bitter a sorrow; nor +would I choose to live, even if I were able. Fie upon life, it has no +savour in it. Since it pleases me naught, I pray to God to grant me +death, and--so truly as I have loved him who requites me thus--to have +mercy on my soul. I forgive him his wrong, and may God give honour and +life to him who has betrayed and delivered me to death. Since it +comes from his hand, death, meseems, is no bitter potion; and when I +remember his love, to die for his sake is no grievous thing." + +When the chatelaine had thus spoken she kept silence, save only that +she said in sighing, + +"Sweet friend, I commend you to God." + +With these words she strained her arms tightly across her breast, the +heart failed her, and her face lost its fair colour. She swooned in +her anguish, and lay back, pale and discoloured in the middle of the +bed, without life or breath. + +Of this her friend knew nothing, for he sought his delight in the +hall, at carol and dance and play. But amongst all those ladies he had +no pleasure in any that he saw, since he might not perceive her to +whom his heart was given, and much he marvelled thereat. He took the +Duke apart, and said in his ear, + +"Sire, whence is this that your niece tarries so long, and comes not +to the dancing? Have you put her in prison?" + +The Duke looked upon the dancers, for he had not concerned himself +with the revels. He took his friend by the hand, and led him directly +to his wife's chamber. When he might not find her there he bade the +knight seek her boldly in the tiring chamber; and this he did of his +courtesy that these two lovers might solace themselves with clasp and +kiss. The knight thanked his lord sweetly, and entered softly in the +chamber, where his friend lay dark and discoloured upon the bed. Time +and place being met together, he took her in his arms and touched her +lips. But when he found how cold was her mouth, how pale and rigid her +person, he knew by the semblance of all her body that she was quite +dead. In his amazement he cried out swiftly, + +"What is this? Alas, is my dear one dead?" + +The maiden started from the foot of the bed where she still lay, +making answer, + +"Sir, I deem truly that she be dead. Since she came to this room +she has done nothing but call upon death, by reason of her friend's +falsehood, whereof my lady assured her, and because of a little dog, +whereof my lady made her jest. This sorrow brought her to her death." + +When the knight understood from this that the words he had spoken to +the Duke had slain his friend, he was discomforted beyond measure. + +"Alas," said he, "sweet love, the most gracious and the best that ever +knight had, loyal and true, how have I slain you, like the faithless +traitor that I am! It were only just that I should receive the wages +for my deed, so that you could have gone free of blame. But you were +so faithful of heart that you took it on yourself to pay the price. +Then I will do justice on myself for the treason I have wrought." + +The knight drew from its sheath a sword that was hanging from the +wall, and thrust it throught his heart. He pained himself to fall +upon his lady's body; and because of the mightiness of his hurt, bled +swiftly to death. The maiden fled forth from the chamber, when she +marked these lifeless lovers, for she was all adread at what she saw. +She lighted on the Duke, and told him all that she had heard and seen, +keeping back nothing. She showed him the beginning of the matter, and +also of the little dog, whereof the Duchess had spoken. + +Hearken all to what befell. The Duke went straightway to the tiring +chamber, and drew from out the wound that sword by which the knight +lay slain. He said no word, but hastened forthwith to the hall where +the guests were yet at their dancing. Entering there he acquitted +himself of his promise, for he smote the Duchess on the head with the +naked sword he carried in his hand. He struck the blow without one +word, since his wrath was too deep for speech. The Duchess fell at his +feet, in the sight of the barons of his realm, whereat the feast was +sorely troubled, for in place of mirth and carol, now were blood and +death. Then the Duke told loudly and swiftly, before all who cared to +hear, this pitiful story, in the midst of his Court. There was not one +but wept, and his tears were the more piteous when he beheld those two +lovers who lay dead in the chamber, and the Duchess in her hall. So +the Court broke up in dole and anger, for of this deed came mighty +mischief. On the morrow the Duke caused the lovers to be laid in one +tomb, and the Duchess in a place apart. But of this adventure the Duke +had such bitterness that never was he known to laugh again. He took +the Cross, and went beyond the sea, where joining himself to the +Knights Templar, he never returned to his own realm. + +Ah, God! all this mischief and encumbrance chanced to the knight by +reason of his making plain that he should have hid, and of publishing +what his friend forbade him to speak, if he would keep her love. From +this ensample we may learn that it is not seemly to love, and tell. He +who blabs and blazons his friendship gets not one kiss the more; but +he who goes discreetly preserves life and love and fame. For the +friendship of the discreet lover falls not before the mine of such +false and felon pryers as burrow privily into their neighbour's secret +love. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of French Mediaeval Romances from the +Lays of Marie de France, by Marie de France + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FRENCH MEDIAEVAL ROMANCES *** + +***** This file should be named 11417.txt or 11417.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/1/4/1/11417/ + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Bradley Norton and PG Distributed +Proofreaders + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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