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diff --git a/5988-h/5988-h.htm b/5988-h/5988-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0c5bc20 --- /dev/null +++ b/5988-h/5988-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,4083 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=US-ASCII" /> +<title>Old French Romances, translated by William Morris</title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + P { margin-top: .75em; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + P.gutsumm { margin-left: 5%;} + P.poetry {margin-left: 3%; } + .GutSmall { font-size: 0.7em; } + H1, H2 { + text-align: center; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + } + H3, H4, H5 { + text-align: center; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + } + BODY{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + table { border-collapse: collapse; } +table {margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto;} + td { vertical-align: top; border: 1px solid black;} + td p { margin: 0.2em; } + .blkquot {margin-left: 4em; margin-right: 4em;} /* block indent */ + + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .pagenum {position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: small; + text-align: right; + font-weight: normal; + color: gray; + } + img { border: none; } + img.dc { float: left; width: 50px; height: 50px; } + p.gutindent { margin-left: 2em; } + div.gapspace { height: 0.8em; } + div.gapline { height: 0.8em; width: 100%; border-top: 1px solid;} + div.gapmediumline { height: 0.3em; width: 40%; margin-left:30%; + border-top: 1px solid; } + div.gapmediumdoubleline { height: 0.3em; width: 40%; margin-left:30%; + border-top: 1px solid; border-bottom: 1px solid;} + div.gapshortdoubleline { height: 0.3em; width: 20%; + margin-left: 40%; border-top: 1px solid; + border-bottom: 1px solid; } + div.gapdoubleline { height: 0.3em; width: 50%; + margin-left: 25%; border-top: 1px solid; + border-bottom: 1px solid;} + div.gapshortline { height: 0.3em; width: 20%; margin-left:40%; + border-top: 1px solid; } + .citation {vertical-align: super; + font-size: .8em; + text-decoration: none;} + img.floatleft { float: left; + margin-right: 1em; + margin-top: 0.5em; margin-bottom: 0.5em; } + img.floatright { float: right; + margin-left: 1em; margin-top: 0.5em; + margin-bottom: 0.5em; } + img.clearcenter {display: block; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0.5em; + margin-bottom: 0.5em} + --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> +</head> +<body> +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Old French Romances, translated by William +Morris, Edited by Joseph Jacobs + + +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: Old French Romances + done into English + + +Translator: William Morris + +Editor: Joseph Jacobs + +Release Date: August 3, 2014 [eBook #5988] +[This file was first posted on October 8, 2002] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OLD FRENCH ROMANCES*** +</pre> +<p>Transcribed from the 1896 George Allen edition by David Price, +email ccx074@pglaf.org</p> +<h1>OLD FRENCH<br /> +ROMANCES</h1> +<p style="text-align: center">DONE INTO ENGLISH</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span +class="GutSmall">BY</span></p> +<p style="text-align: center"><b>WILLIAM MORRIS</b></p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="GutSmall">WITH AN +INTRODUCTION BY</span></p> +<p style="text-align: center">JOSEPH JACOBS</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/tpb.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Decorative graphic" +title= +"Decorative graphic" +src="images/tps.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span +class="GutSmall">LONDON</span><br /> +GEORGE ALLEN, RUSKIN HOUSE<br /> +1896</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>All rights reserved</i></p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center">Printed by <span +class="smcap">Ballantyne</span>, <span +class="smcap">Hanson</span> & <span +class="smcap">Co</span>.<br /> +At the Ballantyne Press</p> +<h2><a name="pagev"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +v</span>INTRODUCTION</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">Many</span> of us have first found our way +into the Realm of Romance, properly so called, through the pages +of a little crimson clad volume of the <i>Bibliothèque +Elzevirienne</i>. <a name="citation1"></a><a href="#footnote1" +class="citation">[1]</a> Its last pages contain the +charming Cante-Fable of <i>Aucassin et Nicolete</i>, which Mr. +Walter Pater’s praises and Mr. Andrew Lang’s +brilliant version have made familiar to all lovers of +letters. But the same volume contains four other tales, +equally charming in their way, which Mr. William Morris has now +made part of English literature by writing them out again for us +in English, reproducing, as his alone can do of living +men’s, the tone, the colour, the charm of the Middle +Ages. His versions have appeared in three successive issues +of the Kelmscott Press, which <a name="pagevi"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. vi</span>have been eagerly snapped up by the +lovers of good books. It seemed a pity that these cameos of +romance should suffer the same fate as Mr. Lang’s version +of <i>Aucassin et Nicolete</i>, which has been swept off the face +of the earth by the Charge of the Six Hundred, who were lucky +enough to obtain copies of the only edition of that little +masterpiece of translation. Mr. Morris has, therefore, +consented to allow his versions of the Romances to be combined +into one volume in a form not unworthy of their excellence but +more accessible to those lovers of books whose purses have a +habit of varying in inverse proportion to the amount of their +love. He has honoured me by asking me to introduce them to +that wider public to which they now make their appeal.</p> +<h3><a name="pagevii"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +vii</span>I</h3> +<p><span class="smcap">Almost</span> all literary roads lead back +to Greece. Obscure as still remains the origin of that +<i>genre</i> of romance to which the tales before us belong, +there is little doubt that their models, if not their originals, +were once extant at Constantinople. Though in no single +instance has the Greek original been discovered of any of these +romances, the mere name of their heroes would be in most cases +sufficient to prove their Hellenic or Byzantine origin. +Heracles, Athis, Porphirias, Parthenopeus, Hippomedon, +Protesilaus, Cliges, Cleomades, Clarus, Berinus—names such +as these can come but from one quarter of Europe, and it is as +easy to guess how and when they came as whence. The first +two crusades brought the flower of European chivalry to +Constantinople and restored that spiritual union between Eastern +and Western Christendom that had been interrupted by the great +schism of the Greek and Roman Churches. The crusaders <a +name="pageviii"></a><span class="pagenum">p. viii</span>came +mostly from the Lands of Romance. Permanent bonds of +culture began to be formed between the extreme East and the +extreme West of Europe by intermarriage, by commerce, by the +admission of the nobles of Byzantium within the orders of +chivalry. These ties went on increasing throughout the +twelfth century till they culminated at its close with the +foundation of the Latin kingdom of Constantinople. In +European literature these historic events are represented by the +class of romances represented in this volume, which all trace +back to versions in verse of the twelfth century, though they +were done into prose somewhere in Picardy during the course of +the next century. Daphnis and Chloe, one might say, had +revived after a sleep of 700 years, and donned the garb and spoke +the tongue of Romance.</p> +<h3>II</h3> +<p>The very first of our tales illustrates admirably the general +course of their history. It is, in effect, a folk etymology +of the name of the great capital of the Eastern Empire. +Constantinople, so runs the tale, received that name instead of +Byzantium, because of the remarkable career of one of its former +rulers, Coustans. M. Wesselovsky <a name="pageix"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. ix</span>has published in <i>Romania</i> (vi. +1. seq.) the <i>Dit de l’empereur Constant</i>, the verse +original of the story before us, and in this occur the +lines—</p> +<p class="poetry">Pour ce que si <i>nobles</i> estoit<br /> +Et que nobles œvres faisoit<br /> +L’appielloient <i>Constant le noble</i><br /> +Et pour çou ot <i>Constantinnoble</i><br /> +Li cytés de Bissence a non.</p> +<p>From which it would appear that we are mistaken in thinking of +the capital of Turkey as the “City of Constantine,” +whereas it is rather Constant the Noble, and the name Coustant is +further explained as “costing” too much. +Constantinople, therefore, is the city that costs too much, +according to the prophetic etymology of the folk.</p> +<p>The only historic personage with whom this Coustant can be +identified is Constantius Chlorus, the father of Constantine the +Great and the husband of St. Helena, to whom legend ascribes the +discovery of the Holy Rood. But the Coustans of our story +never lived or ruled on land or sea, and his predecessor, +Muselinus, is altogether unknown to Byzantine annals, while their +interlaced history reads more like a page of the <i>Arabian +Nights</i> than of Gibbon.</p> +<p><a name="pagex"></a><span class="pagenum">p. x</span>But such +a legend could scarcely have arisen elsewhere than at +Constantinople. It is one of those fables that the +disinherited folk have at all times invented to solace themselves +for their disinherison. The sudden and fated rise of one of +the folk to the heights of power occurs sufficiently often to +afford material for the day dreams of ambitious youth. +There is even a popular tendency to attribute a lowly origin to +all favourites of fortune, as witness the legends that have grown +up about the early careers of Beckett, Whittington, Wolsey, none +of whom was as ill-born as popular tradition asserts. Yet +such legends invariably grow up in the country of their heroes, +which is the only one sufficiently interested in their career, so +far as the common people are concerned. Hence the very +nature of our story would cause us to locate its origin on the +banks of the Bosphorus.</p> +<p>But once originated in this manner, there is no limit to the +travels it may take. Curiously enough, the very legend +before us in all its details has found a home among the English +peasantry. The Rev. S. Baring-Gould collected in Yorkshire +a story which he contributed to Henderson’s <i>Folklore of +the Northern Counties</i>, <a name="pagexi"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. xi</span>and entitled <i>The Fish and the +Ring</i>. <a name="citation2"></a><a href="#footnote2" +class="citation">[2]</a> In this legend a girl comes as the +unwelcome sixth of the family of a very poor man who lived under +the shadow of York Minster. A Knight, riding by on the day +of her birth, discovers, by consultation of the Book of Fate, +that she was destined to marry his son. He offers to adopt +her, and throws her into the River Ouse. A fisherman saves +her, and she is again discovered after many years by the Knight, +who learns what Fate has still in store for his son. He +sends her to his brother at Scarborough with a fatal letter, +ordering him to put her to death. But on the way she is +seized by a band of robbers, who read the letter and replace it +by one ordering the Baron’s son to be married to her +immediately on her arrival.</p> +<p>When the Baron discovers that he has not been able to evade +the decree of fate he still persists in his persecution, and +taking a ring from his finger throws it into the sea, saying that +the girl shall never live with his son till she can show him that +ring. She wanders about and becomes a scullery-maid at a +great castle, and one day <a name="pagexii"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. xii</span>when the Baron is dining at the +castle, while cleaning a great fish she finds his ring, and all +ends happily.</p> +<p>Now on the east wall of the chancel of Stepney Church there is +a monument erected to Dame Rebecca Berry, wife of Thomas Elton, +of Stratford, Bow, and relict of Sir John Berry, 1696. The +arms on the monument are thus blazoned by heralds . . . . +“Paly of six on a bend three mullets (Elton) impaling a +fish, and in the dexter chief point an annulet between two bends +wavy.” The reference in the impalement of the blazon +is obvious. A local tradition confidently identifies Dame +Berry as the heroine of the Yorkshire legend, though of course it +is ignorant of her connection with the etymology of +Constantinople.</p> +<p>Now this tale, or the first half of it, is but a Yorkshire +variant of one spread throughout Europe. The opening of the +twenty-ninth story of the collection of the Brothers Grimm, and +entitled <i>The Devil with the Three Golden Hairs</i>, is exactly +the same, and in their Notes they give references to many similar +European folk-tales. The story is found in Modern Greece +(Von Hahn, No. XX.), and it is, therefore, possible that the +story of King Coustans is the adaptation of a Greek folk-tale for +the purposes of a Folk Etymology. But <a +name="pagexiii"></a><span class="pagenum">p. xiii</span>the +letter, “On delivery, please kill bearer,” is +scarcely likely to have occurred twice to the popular +imagination, and one is almost brought to the conclusion that the +romance before us was itself either directly or indirectly the +source of all the European Folk-tales in which the letter +“To kill bearer” occurs. And as we have before +traced the Romance back to Constantinople, one is further tempted +to trace back the Letter itself to a reminiscence of +Homer’s σηματα +λυγρά.</p> +<p>I have said above that no Greek original of any of these +Romances has hitherto been discovered. But in the case of +King Coustans we can at any rate get within appreciable distance +of it. As recently as 1895 a learned Teuton, Dr. Ernst +Kuhn, pointed out, appropriately enough in the <i>Byzantinische +Zeitschrift</i>, the existence of an Ethiopic and of an Arabic +version of the legend. He found in one of Mr. +Quaritch’s catalogues a description of an illuminated +Ethiopic MS., once belonging to King Theodore of Magdala fame, +which from the account given of several of the illustrations he +was enabled to identify as the story of “The Man born to be +King.” His name in the Ethiopic version is +Thalassion, or Ethiopic words to that effect, and <a +name="pagexiv"></a><span class="pagenum">p. xiv</span>the Greek +<i>provenance</i> of the story is thereby established. Dr. +Kuhn was also successful in finding an Arabic version done by a +Coptic Christian. In both these versions the story is told +as a miracle due to the interference of the Angel Michael; and it +is a curious coincidence that in Mr. Morris’ poetical +version of our story in the “Earthly Paradise” he +calls his hero Michael. Unless some steps are taken to +prevent the misunderstanding, it is probable that some Teutonic +investigator of the next century will, on the strength of this +identity of names, bring Mr. Morris in guilty of a knowledge of +Ethiopic.</p> +<p>But for the name of the hero one might have suspected these +Oriental versions of being derived, not from a Greek, but from an +Indian original. Mr. Tawney has described a variant found +in the <i>Kathākosa</i> <a name="citation3"></a><a +href="#footnote3" class="citation">[3]</a> which resembles our +tale much more closely than any of the European folk-tales in the +interesting point that the predestined bride herself finds the +fatal letter and makes the satisfactory substitution. In +the Indian tale this is done with considerable ingenuity and +<i>vraisemblance</i>. The girl’s name is Visha, and +the operative clause of the fatal letter is:</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="pagexv"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +xv</span>“Before this man has washed his feet, do thou with +speed<br /> +Give him poison (<i>visham</i>), and free my heart from +care.”</p> +<p>The lady thinks (or wishes) that her father is a bad +orthographist, and corrects his spelling by omitting the final +<i>m</i>, so that the letter reads “Give him Visha,” +with results more satisfactory to the young lady than to her +father. This variant is so very close to our tale, while +the letter incident in it is so much more naturally developed +than in the romance that one might almost suspect it of having +been the original. But we must know more about the +<i>Kathākosa</i> and about the communication between +Byzantium and India before we can decisively determine which came +first.</p> +<h3>III</h3> +<p>Amis and Amil were the David and Jonathan, the Orestes and +Pylades, of the mediæval world. Dr. Hofmann, who has +edited the earliest French verse account of the Legend, +enumerates nearly thirty other versions of it in almost all the +tongues of Western and Northern Europe, not to mention various +versions which have crept into different collections of the Lives +of the <a name="pagexvi"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +xvi</span>Saints. For their peerless friendship raised them +to the ranks of the martyrs, at any rate, at Mortara and Novara, +where, according to the Legend, they died. The earliest of +all these forms is a set of Latin Hexameters by one Radulfus +Tortarius, born at Fleury, 1063, lived in Normandy, and died some +time after 1122. It was, therefore, possible that the story +had come back with the first crusaders, and the Grimms attribute +to it a Greek original. But in its earliest as well as in +its present form, it is definitely located on Romance soil, while +the names of the heroes are clearly Latin (Amicus and +Æmilius). It was, however, only at a later stage that +the story was affiliated to the Epic Cycle of Charlemagne. +On the face of it there is clearly stamped the impress of popular +tradition. Heads are not so easily replaced, except by a +freak of the Folk imagination. It is probably for this +reason that M. Gaston Paris attributes an Oriental origin to the +latter part of the tale, and for the same reason the Benedictine +Fathers have had serious doubts about admitting it into the +<i>Acta Sanctorum</i>. On the other hand, the editors of +the French text, the translation of which we have before us, go +so far as to conjecture that there is a historic germ for the +whole <a name="pagexvii"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +xvii</span>Legend in certain incidents of the War of Charlemagne +against Didier. But as the whole connection of the Legend +with the Charlemagne Cycle is late, we need not attribute much +importance to, indeed, we may at once dismiss their +conjecture.</p> +<p>These disputes of the pundits cannot destroy the charm of the +Legend. Never, even in antiquity, have the claims of +friendship been urged with such a passionate emphasis. The +very resemblance of the two heroes is symbolic of their +similarity of character; the very name of one of them is Friend +pure and simple. The world is well lost for +friendship’s sake on the one side, on the other nearest and +dearest are willingly and literally sacrificed on the altar of +friendship. One of the most charming of the <i>Fioretti</i> +tells how St. Francis overcame in himself the mediæval +dread at the touch of a leper, and washed and tended one of the +poor unfortunates. He was but following the example of +Amil, who was not deterred by the dreaded sound of the +“tartavelle”—the clapper or rattle which +announced the approach of the leper <a name="citation4"></a><a +href="#footnote4" class="citation">[4]</a>—from tending his +friend.</p> +<p><a name="pagexviii"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +xviii</span>Here again romance has points of contact with the +folk tale. The end of the Grimms’ tale of <i>Faithful +John</i> is clearly the same as that of <i>Amis and Amile</i>. <a +name="citation5"></a><a href="#footnote5" +class="citation">[5]</a> Once more we are led to believe in +some dependence of the Folk-Tale on Romance, or, <i>vice +versa</i>, since an incident like that of resuscitation by the +sacrifice of a child is not likely to occur independently to two +different tellers of tales. The tale also contains the +curious incident of the unsheathed sword in bed, which, both in +romances and folk-tales, is regarded as a complete bar to any +divorce court proceedings. It is probable that the sword +was considered as a living person, so that the principle +<i>publico</i> was applied, and the sword was regarded as a kind +of chaperon. <a name="citation6"></a><a href="#footnote6" +class="citation">[6]</a> It is noteworthy that the incident +occurs in <i>Aladdin and the Wonderful Lamp</i>, which is a late +interpolation into the <i>Arabian Nights</i>, and may be due +there to <a name="pagexix"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +xix</span>European influence. But another incident in the +romance suggests that it was derived from a folk-tale rather than +the reverse. The two bowls of wood given to the heroes at +baptism are clearly a modification of that familiar incident in +folk-tales, where one of a pair leaves with the other a +“Lifetoken” <a name="citation7"></a><a +href="#footnote7" class="citation">[7]</a> which will +sympathetically indicate his state of health. As this has +been considerably attenuated in our romance, we are led to the +conclusion that it is itself an adaptation of a folk-tale.</p> +<h3>IV</h3> +<p>The tale of <i>King Florus</i>—the gem of the +book—recalls the early part of Shakespeare’s +<i>Cymbeline</i> and the bet about a wife’s virtue, which +forms the subject of many romances, not a few folk-tales, and at +least one folk-song. <i>The Romance of the Violet</i>, by +Gerbert de Montruil, <i>circa</i> 1225, derives its name from the +mother’s mark of the heroine, which causes her husband to +lose his bet. This was probably the source of +Boccaccio’s novel (ii. 9), from which Shakespeare’s +more immediately grew. <a name="pagexx"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. xx</span>The Gaelic version of this incident, +collected by Campbell (<i>The Chest</i>, No. ii.), is clearly not +of folk origin, but derived directly or indirectly from +Boccaccio, in whom alone the Chest is found. Yet it is +curious that, practically, the same story as the <i>Romance of +the Violet</i> is found among folk-songs in modern Greece and in +Modern Scotland. In Passow’s collection of Romaic +Folk Songs there is one entitled <i>Maurianos and the King</i>, +which is in substance our story; and it is probably the existence +of this folk-song which causes M. Gaston Paris to place our tale +among the romances derived from Byzantium. Yet Motherwell +in his <i>Minstrelsy</i> has a ballad entitled <i>Reedisdale and +Wise William</i>, which has the bet as its motive. Here +again, then, we have a connection between our romance and the +story-store of European folk, and at the same time some slight +link with Byzantium.</p> +<h3>V</h3> +<p>The tale of “Oversea” has immediate connection +with the Crusades, since its heroine is represented to be no +other than the great grandmother of Saladin. But her +adventures resemble those of Boccaccio’s Princess of +Babylon (ii. 7), <a name="pagexxi"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +xxi</span>who was herself taken from one of the Greek romances by +Xenophon of Ephesus. Here again, then, we can trace back to +Greek influence reaching Western Europe in the twelfth century +through the medium of the Crusades. But the tale finds no +echo among the folk, so far as I am aware, and is thus purely and +simply a romance of adventure.</p> +<p>This, however, is not the only story connected with the +Crusades in which the Soudan loves a lady of the Franks. +Saladin is credited by the chatty Chronicle of Rheims with having +gained the love of Eleanor, wife of Louis VII., when they were in +Palestine on the Second Crusade. As Saladin did not ascend +the throne till twenty years later, chronology is enabled to +clear his memory of this piece of scandal. But its +existence chimes in with such relations between Moslem and +Christian as is represented in our story, which were clearly not +regarded at the time with any particular aversion by the folk; +they agree with Cardinal Mazarin on this point.</p> +<h3><a name="pagexxii"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +xxii</span>VI</h3> +<p>So much for the origin of our tales. Yet who cares for +origins nowadays? We are all democrats now, and a tale, +like a man, is welcomed for its merits and not for its +pedigree. Yet even democracy must own, that pedigree often +leaves its trace in style and manner, and certainly the tales +before us owe some of their charm to their lineage. +“Out of Byzantium by Old France” is a good strain by +which to produce thoroughbred romance.</p> +<p>Certainly we breathe the very air of romance in these +stories. There is none of your modern priggish care for the +state of your soul. Men take rank according to their might, +women are valued for their beauty alone. Adventures are to +the adventurous, and the world is full of them. Every place +but that in which one is born is equally strange and +wondrous. Once beyond the bounds of the city walls and none +knows what may happen. We have stepped forth into the Land +of Faerie, but at least we are in the open air.</p> +<p>Mr. Pater seems to regard our stories as being a premonition +of the freedom and gaiety of the Renaissance rather than as +especially <a name="pagexxiii"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +xxiii</span>characteristic of the times of Romance. All +that one need remark upon such misconception is that it only +proves that Mr. Pater knew less of Romance Literature than he did +of his favourite subject. The freshness, the gaiety, the +direct outlook into life are peculiar neither to Romance nor +Renaissance; their real source was the <i>esprit +Gaulois</i>. But the unquestioning, if somewhat external, +piety, the immutability of the caste system, the spirit of +adventure, the frankly physical love of woman, the large +childlike wonder, these are of the essence of Romance, and they +are fully represented in the tales before us. Wonder and +reverence, are not these the parents of Romance? +Intelligent curiosity and intellectual doubt—those are what +the Renaissance brought. Without indulging in invidious +comparisons between the relative value of these gifts, I would +turn back to our stories with the remark that much of the wonder +which they exhibit is due to the vague localisation which runs +through them. Rome, Paris, Byzantium, form spots of light +on the mediæval map, but all between is in the dim obscure +where anything may occur, and the brave man moves about with his +life in his hands.</p> +<p>We thus obtain that absence or localisation <a +name="pagexxiv"></a><span class="pagenum">p. xxiv</span>which +helps to give the characteristic tone to mediæval +romance. Events happen in a sort of sublime No Man’s +Land. They happen, as it were, at the root of the +mountains, on the glittering plain, and in short, we get news +from Nowhere. It seems, therefore, peculiarly appropriate +that they should be done into English in the same style and by +the same hand that has already written the annals of those +countries of romance. Writing here, in front of Mr. +Morris’s versions, I am speaking, as it were, before his +face, and must not say all that I should like in praise of the +style in which he has clothed them, and of its appropriateness +for its present purpose. I should merely like to recall the +fact that it was used by him in his versions of the Sagas as long +ago as 1869. Since then it has been adopted by all who +desire to give an appropriate English dress to their versions of +classic or mediæval masterpieces of a romantic +character. We may take it, I think, that this style has +established itself as the only one suitable for a romantic +version, and who shall use it with ease and grace if not its +original inventor?</p> +<p>If their style suits Mr. Morris, there is little doubt that +their subject is equally congenial. I cannot claim to be in +his confidence on the <a name="pagexxv"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. xxv</span>point, but it is not difficult, I +fancy, to guess what has attracted him to them. Nearly all +of them, we have seen, are on the borderland between folk-tale +and romance. It is tales such as these that Mr. Morris +wishes to see told in tapestry on the walls of the Moot-Hall of +the Hammersmith of Nowhere. It was by tales such as these +that he first won a hearing from all lovers of English +literature. The story of Jason is but a Greek setting of a +folk-tale known among the Gaels as the <i>Battle of the +Birds</i>, and in Norse as the <i>Master Maid</i>. Many of +the tales which the travellers told one another in the <i>Earthly +Paradise</i>, such as <i>The Man Born to be King</i> (itself +derived from the first of our stories), <i>The Land East of the +Sun and West of the Moon</i>, and <i>The Ring given to Venus</i>, +are, on the face of them, folk-tales. Need I give any +stronger recommendation of this book to English readers than to +ask them to regard it as a sort of outhouse to that goodly fabric +so appropriately known to us all as <i>The Earthly +Paradise</i>?</p> +<p style="text-align: right">JOSEPH JACOBS.</p> +<h2><a name="page1"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 1</span>The Tale +of King Coustans the Emperor</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">This</span> tale telleth us that there was +erewhile an Emperor of Byzance, which as now is called +Constantinople; but anciently it was called Byzance. There +was in the said city an Emperor; pagan he was, and was held for +wise as of his law. He knew well enough of a science that +is called Astronomy, and he knew withal of the course of the +stars, and the planets, and the moon: and he saw well in the +stars many marvels, and he knew much of other things wherein the +paynims much study, and in the lots they trow, and the answers of +the Evil One, that is to say, the Enemy. This Emperor had +to name Musselin; he knew much of lore and of sorceries, as many +a pagan doth even yet.</p> +<p>Now it befell on a time that the Emperor Musselin went his +ways a night-tide, he and a knight of his alone together, amidst +of the city which is now called Constantinople, and the moon +shone full clear.</p> +<p>And so far they went, till they heard a Christian woman who +travailed in child-bed in a certain house whereby they +went. There was the husband of the said woman aloft in a +high solar, and was praying to God one while that she might be +delivered, and then again another while that she might not be +delivered.</p> +<p>When the Emperor had hearkened this a great while, he said to +the knight: “Hast thou heard it of yonder churl how he +prayeth that his wife may be delivered of her child, and another +while prayeth that she may not be delivered? Certes, he is +worser than a thief. For every man ought to have pity of +women, more especially of them that be sick of childing. +And now, so help me Mahoume and Termagaunt! if I do not hang him, +if he betake him not to telling me reason wherefore he doeth +it! Come we now unto him.”</p> +<p>They went within, and said the Emperor: “Now churl, tell +me of a sooth wherefore thou prayedst thy God thus for thy wife, +one while that she might be delivered, and another while that she +might be delivered not. This have I will to wot.”</p> +<p>“Sir,” said he, “I will tell thee +well. Sooth it is that I be a clerk, and know mickle of a +science which men call Astronomy. Withal I wot of the +course of the stars and of the planets; therefore saw I well that +if my wife were delivered at the point and the hour whereas I +prayed God that she might not be delivered, that if she were +delivered at that hour, the child would go the way of perdition, +and that needs must he be burned, or hanged, or drowned. +But whenas I saw that it was good hour and good point, then +prayed I to God that she might be delivered. And so sore +have I prayed God, that he hath hearkened my prayer of his mercy, +and that she is delivered in good point. God be heried and +thanked!”</p> +<p>“Well me now,” said the Emperor, “in what +good point is the child born?”</p> +<p>“Sir,” said he, “of a good will; know sir, +for sooth, that this child, which here is born, shall have to +wife the daughter of the emperor of this city, who was born but +scarce eight days ago; and he shall be emperor withal, and lord +of this city, and of all the earth.” +“Churl,” said the Emperor, “this which thou +sayest can never come to pass.” “Sir,” +said he, “it is all sooth, and thus it behoveth it to +be.” “Certes,” quoth the Emperor, +“’tis a mighty matter to trow in.”</p> +<p>But the Emperor and the Knight departed thence, and the +Emperor bade the Knight go bear off the child in such wise, if he +might, that none should see him therein. The Knight went +and found there two women, who were all busied in arraying the +woman who had been brought to bed. The child was wrapped in +linen clothes, and they had laid him on a chair. Thereto +came the Knight, and took the child and laid him on a board, and +brought him to the Emperor, in such wise that none of the women +wotted thereof. The Emperor did do slit the belly of him +with a knife from the breast down to the navel, and said withal +to the Knight, that never should the son of that churl have to +wife his daughter, nor be emperor after him.</p> +<p>Therewithal would the Emperor do the Knight to put forth his +hand to the belly, to seek out the heart; but the Knight said to +him: “Ah, sir, a-God’s mercy, what wouldst thou +do? It is nought meet to thee, and if folk were to wot +thereof, great reproach wouldst thou get thee. Let him be +at this present, for he is more than dead. And if it please +thee that that one trouble more about the matter, I will bear him +down to the sea to drown him.” “Yea,” +quoth the Emperor, “bear him away thither, for right sore +do I hate him.”</p> +<p>So the Knight took the child, and wrapped him in a cover-point +of silk, and bore him down toward the sea. But therewith +had he pity of the child, and said that by him should he never be +drowned; so he left him, all wrapped up as he was, on a midden +before the gate of a certain abbey of monks, who at that very +nick of time were singing their matins.</p> +<p>When the monks had done singing their matins, they heard the +child crying, and they bore him before the Lord Abbot. And +the Abbot saw that the child was fair, and said that he would do +it to be nourished. Therewith he did do unwrap it, and saw +that it had the belly cloven from the breast down to the +navel.</p> +<p>The Abbot, so soon as it was day, bade come leeches, and asked +of them for how much they would heal the child and they craved +for the healing of him an hundred of bezants. But he said +that it would be more than enough, for overmuch would the child +be costing. And so much did the Abbot, that he made market +with the surgeons for four-score bezants. And thereafter +the Abbot did do baptize the child, and gave him to name +Coustans, because him-seemed that he costed exceeding much for +the healing of him.</p> +<p>The leeches went so much about with child, that he was made +whole and the Abbot sought him a good nurse, and got the child to +suckle, and he was healed full soon; whereas the flesh of him was +soft and tender, and grew together swiftly one to the other, but +ever after showed the mark.</p> +<p>Much speedily waxed the child in great beauty; when he was +seven years old the Abbot did him to go to the school, and he +learned so well, that he over-passed all his fellows in subtilty +and science. When he was of twelve years, he was a child +exceeding goodly; so it might nought avail to seek a +goodlier. And whenas the Abbot saw him to be a child so +goodly and gentle, he did him to ride abroad with him.</p> +<p>Now so it fell out, that the Abbot had to speak with the +Emperor of a wrong which his bailiffs had done to the +abbey. The Abbot made him a goodly gift, whereas the abbey +and convent were subject unto him, for the Emperor was a +Saracen. When the Abbot had given him his goodly gift, the +Emperor gave him day for the third day thence, whenas he should +be at a castle of his, three leagues from the city of +Byzance.</p> +<p>The Abbot abode the day: when he saw the time at point to go +to the Emperor, he mounted a-horseback, and his chaplain, and +esquire, and his folk; and with him was Coustans, who was so well +fashioned that all praised his great beauty, and each one said +that he seemed well to be come of high kindred, and that he would +come to great good.</p> +<p>So when the Abbot was come before the castle whereas the +Emperor should be, he came before him and spake to and greeted +him: and the Emperor said to him that he should come into the +castle, and he would speak with him of his matter: the Abbot made +him obeisance, and said to him: “Sir, a-God’s +name!” Then the Abbot called to him Coustans, who was +holding of his hat while he spake unto the Emperor; and the +Emperor looked on the lad, and saw him so fair and gentle as +never before had he seen the like fair person. So he asked +of the Abbot what he was; and the Abbot said him that he wotted +not, save that he was of his folk, and that he had bred him up +from a little child. “And if I had leisure with thee, +I would tell thee thereof fine marvels.” +“Yea,” said the Emperor; “come ye into the +castle, and therein shalt thou say me the sooth.”</p> +<p>The Emperor came into the castle, and the Abbot was ever +beside him, as one who had his business to do; and he did it to +the best that he might, as he who was subject unto him. The +Emperor forgat in nowise the great beauty of the lad, and said +unto the Abbot that he should cause him come before him, and the +Abbot sent for the lad, who came straightway.</p> +<p>When the child was before the Emperor, he seemed unto him +right fair; and he said unto the Abbot, that great damage it was +that so fair a lad was Christian. But the Abbot said that +it was great joy thereof, whereas he would render unto God a fair +soul. When the Emperor heard that, he fell a-laughing, and +said to the Abbot that the Christian law was of no account, and +that all they were lost who trowed therein. When the Abbot +heard him so say, he was sore grieved; but he durst not make +answer as he would, so he said much humbly: “Sir, if God +please, who can all things, they are not lost; for God will have +mercy of his sinners.”</p> +<p>Then the Emperor asked of him whence that fair child was come; +and the Abbot said that it was fifteen years gone since he had +been found before their gate, on a midden, all of a +night-tide. “And our monks heard him a-crying whenas +they had but just said matins; and they went to seek the child, +and brought him to me; and I looked on the babe, and beheld him +much fair, and I said that I would do him to be nourished and +baptized. I unwrapped him, for the babe was wrapped up in a +cover-point of vermil sendel; and when he was unwrapped, I saw +that he had the belly slit from the breast to the navel. +Then I sent for leeches and surgeons, and made market with them +to heal him for four-score bezants; and thereafter he was +baptized, and I gave him to name Coustans, because he costed so +much of goods to heal. So was the babe presently made +whole: but never sithence might it be that the mark appeared not +on his belly.”</p> +<p>When the Emperor heard that, he knew that it was the child +whose belly he had slit to draw the heart out of him. So he +said to the Abbot that he should give him the lad. And the +Abbot said that he would speak thereof to his convent, and that +he should have him with their good-will. The Emperor held +his peace, and answered never a word. But the Abbot took +leave of him, and came to his abbey, and his monks, and told them +that the Emperor had craved Coustans of him. “But I +answered that I would speak to you if ye will yea-say it. +Say, now, what ye would praise of my doing herein.”</p> +<p>“What!” said the wisest of the convent; “by +our faith, evil hast thou done, whereas thou gavest him not +presently, even as he demanded of thee. We counsel thee +send him straightway, lest the Emperor be wrath against us, for +speedily may we have scathe of him.”</p> +<p>Thereto was their counsel fast, that Coustans should be sent +to the Emperor. So the Abbot commanded the Prior to lead +Coustans thereto; and the Prior said: “A-God’s +name!”</p> +<p>So he mounted, and led with him Coustans, and came unto the +Emperor, and greeted him on behalf of the Abbot and the convent; +and then he took Coustans by the hand, and, on the said behalf, +gave him to the Emperor, who received him as one who was much +wrath that such a runagate and beggar churl should have his +daughter to wife. But he thought in his heart that he would +play him the turn.</p> +<p>When the Emperor had gotten Coustans, he was in sore +imagination how he should be slain in such wise that none might +wot word thereof. And it fell out so that the Emperor had +matters on hand at the outer marches of his land, much long aloof +thence, well a twelve days’ journey. So the Emperor +betook him to going thither, and had Coustans thither with him, +and thought what wise he might to do slay him, till at last he +let write a letter to his Burgreve of Byzance.</p> +<p>“I Emperor of Byzance and Lord of Greece, do thee to wit +who abidest duly in my place for the warding of my land; and so +soon as thou seest this letter thou shalt slay or let slay him +who this letter shall bear to thee, so soon as he hast delivered +the said letter to thee, without longer tarrying. As thou +holdest dear thine own proper body, do straightway my commandment +herein.”</p> +<p>Even such was the letter which the fair child Coustans bore, +and knew not that he bore his own death. The lad took the +letter, which was close, and betook him to the road, and did so +much by his journeys that he came in less than fifteen days to +Byzance, which is nowadays called Constantinople.</p> +<p>When the lad entered into the city, it was the hour of dinner; +so, as God would have it, he thought that he would not go his +errand at that nick of time, but would tarry till folk had done +dinner: and exceeding hot was the weather, as is wont about St. +John’s-mass. So he entered into the garden all +a-horseback. Great and long was the garden; so the lad took +the bridle from off his horse and unlaced the saddle-girths, and +let him graze; and thereafter he went into the nook of a tree; +and full pleasant was the place, so that presently he fell +asleep.</p> +<p>Now so it fell out, that when the fair daughter of the Emperor +had eaten, she went into the garden with three of her maidens; +and they fell to chasing each other about, as whiles is the wont +of maidens to play; until at the last the fair Emperor’s +daughter came under the tree whereas Coustans lay a-sleeping, and +he was all vermil as the rose. And when the damsel saw him, +she beheld him with a right good will, and she said to herself +that never on a day had she seen so fair a fashion of man. +Then she called to her that one of her fellows in whom she had +the most affiance, and the others she made to go forth from out +of the garden.</p> +<p>Then the fair maiden, daughter of the Emperor, took her fellow +by the hand, and led her to look on the lovely lad whereas he lay +a-sleeping; and she spake thus: “Fair fellow, here is a +rich treasure. Lo thou! the most fairest fashion of a man +that ever mine eyes have seen on any day of my life. And he +beareth a letter, and well I would see what it sayeth.”</p> +<p>So the two maidens drew nigh to the lad, and took from him the +letter, and the daughter of the Emperor read the same; and when +she had read it, she fell a-lamenting full sore, and said to her +fellow: “Certes here is a great grief!” +“Ha, my Lady!” said the other one, “tell me +what it is.” “Of a surety,” said the +Maiden, “might I but trow in thee I would do away that +sorrow!” “Ha, Lady,” said she, +“hardily mayest thou trow in me, whereas for nought would I +uncover that thing which thou wouldst have hid.”</p> +<p>Then the Maiden, the daughter of the Emperor, took oath of her +according to the paynim law; and thereafter she told her what the +letter said; and the damsel answered her: “Lady, and what +wouldest thou do?” “I will tell thee +well,” said the daughter of the Emperor; “I will put +in his pouch another letter, wherein the Emperor, my father, +biddeth his Burgreve to give me to wife to this fair child here, +and that he make great feast at the doing of the wedding unto all +the folk of this land; whereas he is to wot well that the lad is +a high man and a loyal.”</p> +<p>When the damsel had heard that, she said that would be good to +do. “But, Lady, how wilt thou have the seal of thy +father?” “Full well,” said the Maiden, +“for my father delivered to me four pair of scrolls, sealed +of his seal thereon; he hath written nought therein; and I will +write all that I will.” “Lady,” said she, +“thou hast said full well; but do it speedily, and haste +thee ere he awakeneth.” “So will I,” said +the Maiden.</p> +<p>Then the fair Maiden, the daughter of the Emperor, went to her +coffers, and drew thereout one of the said scrolls sealed, which +her father had left her, that she might borrow moneys thereby, if +so she would. For ever was the Emperor and his folk in war, +whereas he had neighbours right felon, and exceeding mighty, +whose land marched upon his. So the Maiden wrote the letter +in this wise:</p> +<p>“I King Musselin, Emperor of Greece and of Byzance the +city, to my Burgreve of Byzance greeting. I command thee +that the bearer of this letter ye give to my fair daughter in +marriage according to our law; whereas I have heard and wot +soothly that he is a high person, and well worthy to have my +daughter. And thereto make ye great joy and great feast to +all them of my city and of all my land.”</p> +<p>In such wise wrote and said the letter of the fair daughter of +the Emperor; and when she had written the said letter, she went +back to the garden, she and her fellow together, and found that +one yet asleep, and they put the letter into his pouch. And +then they began to sing and make noise to awaken him. So he +awoke anon, and was all astonied at the fair Maiden, the daughter +of the Emperor, and the other one her fellow, who came before +him; and the fair Maiden, daughter of the Emperor, greeted him; +and he greeted her again right debonairly. Then she asked +of him what he was, and whither he went; and he said that he bore +a letter to the Burgreve, which the Emperor sent by him; and the +Maiden said that she would bring him straightway whereas was the +Burgreve. Therewith she took him by the hand, and brought +him to the palace, where there was much folk, who all rose +against the Maiden, as to her who was their Lady.</p> +<p>Now the Maiden demanded the Burgreve, and they told her that +he was in a chamber; so thither she led the lad, and the lad +delivered the letter, and said that the Emperor greeted +him. But the Burgreve made great joy of the lad, and kissed +the hand of him. The Maiden opened the pouch, and fell +a-kissing the letter and the seal of her father for joy’s +sake, whereas she had not heard tidings of him a great while.</p> +<p>Thereafter she said to the Burgreve that she would hearken the +letter in privy council, even as if she wotted nought thereof; +and the Burgreve said that that were good to do. Then went +the Burgreve and the Maiden into a chamber, and the Maiden +unfolded the letter and read it to the Burgreve, and made +semblance of wondering exceedingly; and the Burgreve said to her, +“Lady, it behoveth to do the will of my lord thy father, +for otherwise we shall be blamed exceedingly.” The +Maiden answered him: “And how can this be, that I should be +wedded without my lord my father? A strange thing it would +be, and I will do it in no manner.”</p> +<p>“Ha, Lady!” said the Burgreve, “what is that +thou sayest? Thy father has bidden thus by his letter, and +it behoveth not to gainsay.”</p> +<p>“Sir,” said the Maiden, (unto whom it was late +till the thing were done) “thou shalt speak unto the barons +and mighty men of this realm, and take counsel thereof. And +if they be of accord thereto, I am she who will not go against +it.” Then the Burgreve said that she spake well and +as one wise.</p> +<p>Then spake the Burgreve to the barons, I and showed them the +letter, and they accorded all to that that the matter of the +letter must be accomplished, and the will of the Emperor +done. Then they wedded the fair youth Coustans, according +to the paynim law, unto the fair daughter of the Emperor; and the +wedding endured for fifteen days: and such great joy was there at +Byzance that it was exceeding, and folk did no work in the city, +save eating and drinking and making merry.</p> +<p>Long while abode the Emperor in the land whereas he was: and +when he had done his business, he went his ways back towards +Byzance; and whenas he was but anigh two journeys thence, came to +him a message of the messengers who came from Byzance. The +Emperor asked of him what they did in the city; and the varlet +said that they were making exceeding good cheer of eating and +drinking and taking their ease, and that no work had they done +therein these fifteen days.</p> +<p>“And wherefore is that?” said the Emperor. +“Wherefore, Sir! Wot ye not well +thereof?” “Nay, forsooth,” said the +Emperor, “but tell me wherefore.”</p> +<p>“Sir,” said the varlet, “thou sentest a +youngling, exceeding fair, to thy Burgreve, and badest him by thy +letter to wed him to thy daughter the fair, and that he should be +emperor after thee, whereas he was a man right high, and well +worthy to have her. But thy daughter would not take that +before that the Burgreve should have spoken to the barons. +And he spake to all them, and showed them thy letter; and they +said that it behoved to do thy commandment. And when thy +daughter saw that they were all of one accord thereon, she durst +not go against them, but yea-said it. Even in such wise +hath thy daughter been wedded, and such joy has been in the city +as none might wish it better.”</p> +<p>The Emperor, when he heard the messenger speak thus, was all +astonied, and thought much of this matter; and he asked of the +varlet how long it was since the lad had wedded his daughter, and +whether or no he had lain by her?</p> +<p>“Sir,” said the varlet, “yea; and she may +well be big by now; because it is more than three weeks since he +hath wedded her.” “Forsooth,” said the +Emperor, “in a good hour be it! for since it is so, it +behoveth me to abide it, since no other it may be.”</p> +<p>So far rode the Emperor till he came to Byzance, whereas they +made him much fair feast; and his fair daughter came to meet him, +and her husband Coustans, who was so fair a child that none might +better be. The Emperor, who was a wise man, made of them +much great joy, and laid his two hands upon their two heads, and +held them there a great while; which is the manner of benison +amongst the paynims.</p> +<p>That night thought the Emperor much on this marvel, how it +could have come about; and so much he pondered it, that he wotted +full well that it had been because of his daughter. So he +had no will to gain-say her, but he demanded to see the letter +which he had sent, and they showed it unto him, and he saw his +seal hanging thereto, and saw the letter which was written; and +by the manner whereby the thing had been done, he said to himself +that he had striven against the things which behoved to be.</p> +<p>Thereafter, the Emperor made Coustans a knight, even his new +son who was wedded unto his daughter, and he gave and granted to +him all the whole land after his death. And the said +Coustans bore him well and wisely, as a good knight, and a +valiant and hardy, and defended him full well against his +enemies. No long time wore ere his lord the Emperor died, +and his service was done much richly, after the paynim law. +Then was Coustans emperor, and he loved and honoured much the +Abbot who had nourished him, and he made him his very +master. And the Emperor Coustans, by the counsel of the +Abbot, and the will of God the all mighty, did do christen his +wife, and all they of that land were converted to the law of +Jesus Christ. And the Emperor Coustans begot on his wife an +heir male, who had to name Constantine, who was thereafter a +prudhomme much great. And thereafter was the city called +Constantinople, because of his father, Coustans, who costed so +much, but aforetime was it called Byzance.</p> +<p>Here withal endeth the Story of King Coustans the Emperor.</p> +<p>The said story was done out of the ancient French into English +by William Morris.</p> +<h2><a name="page25"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 25</span>The +Friendship of Amis and Amile</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">In</span> the time of Pepin King of France +was a child born in the Castle of Bericain of a noble father of +Alemaine who was of great holiness.</p> +<p>The father and the mother promised to God, and Saint Peter and +Saint Paul, whereas they had none other child, that if God gave +it life, they would bear it to Rome to baptism. At the same +time came a vision to a Count of Alverne, whose wife was big with +child, whereby it seemed that the Apostle of Rome was baptizing +many children in his palace and confirming them with chrism.</p> +<p>So when the Count was awaken he sought of many wise folk what +might signify that which he had seen in the dream. And when +his vision was uncovered, a wise man and ancient bespake him by +the counsel of God: “Make great joy, Count, for there shall +be born to thee a son full of great prowess and of great +holiness; and him thou shalt let bear to Rome and let baptize him +by the Apostle.”</p> +<p>Thereof great joy made the Count, and he and his folk praised +the counsel of the elder.</p> +<p>The child was born and dearly fostered, and when he had two +years, and the father after his purpose was bearing him to Rome, +he came to the city of Lucca. And therein he found a noble +man of Almaine who was wending Romeward and bearing his son to +baptism. They greeted one the other, and each asked other +who he was and what he sought, and when they found themselves to +be of one purpose they joined company in all friendliness and +entered Rome together. And the two children fell to loving +one another so sorely that one would not eat without the other, +they lived of one victual, and lay in one bed.</p> +<p>In this wise the fathers brought them before the Apostle at +Rome, and spake to him: “Holy Father, whom we know and +believe to be in the place of Saint Peter the Apostle, the Count +of Alverne, and a noble knight of Bericain the Castle, beseech +your Holiness that ye would deign to baptize their sons which +they have brought from far away, and that ye would take their +little offering from their hands.”</p> +<p>And the Apostle answered them: “I hold your gifts for +right acceptable, but they are not to me of much necessity; give +them to the poor, who have need thereof. The infants will I +baptize with a good will, that the Father, the Son, and the Holy +Ghost may embrace them in the love of the Holy +Trinity.”</p> +<p>Forthwith then the Apostle baptized them in the Church of the +Holy Saviour, and laid for name on the son of the Count, Amile, +and on the son of the Knight, Amis; and many a knight of Rome +held them at the font with mickle joy, and raised them aloft even +as God would. And the office of Baptism done, the Apostle +bade bring two hanaps of tree dight with gold and precious +stones, side and wide alike, and of like fashion, and gave them +to the bairns and said: “Take these gifts in token that I +have baptized you in the Church of the Holy Saviour.” +Which gifts they took joyfully and thanked him much, and betook +them thence home in all joyance.</p> +<p>To the child of Bericain did God give so great wisdom, that +one might trow that he were another Solomon; and when he was of +the age of thirty years a fever took his father, and he fell to +admonishing his son in such like words: “Fair son, well +beloved, it behoveth me presently to die, and thou shalt abide +and be thine own master. Now firstly, fair son, keep thou +the commandments of God; the chivalry of Jesus Christ do +thou. Keep thou faith to thy lords, and give aid to thy +fellows and friends. Defend the widows and orphans. +Uphold the poor and needy: and all days hold thy last day in +memory. Forget not the fellowship and friendship of the son +of the Count of Alverne, whereas the Apostle of Rome on one day +baptized you both, and with one gift honoured you. Ye be +alike of beauty, of fashion, and stature, and whoso should see +you, would deem you to be brethren.”</p> +<p>So having finished these words, and received his Saviour, he +departed in our Lord, and his son did do bury him, and did do +render him his service, even as one should do for the dead.</p> +<p>After the death of his father evil folk bore envy against him, +and did him many a scathe, and grieved him sorely; but he loved +them all and suffered whatsoever they did to him. What more +may I tell you, save that they cast him and his folk out of the +heritage of his fathers, and chased him forth out of his +castle. So when he bethought him of the commandment of his +father, he said to them who went in his company: “The +wicked have wrongfully cast me forth out of mine heritage: yet +have I good hope in our Lord that he will help me; go we now to +the Court of the Count Amile, who was my friend and my +fellow. May-happen he will make us rich with his goods and +his havings. But if it be not so, then shall we go to +Hildegard the Queen, wife of King Charles of France, who is wont +to comfort the disinherited.”</p> +<p>And they answered that they were ready to follow him and do +his bidding.</p> +<p>Therewith they went their ways to the Court of the Count and +found him not there, because he was gone to Bericain to visit +Amis his fellow, and comfort him of the death of his +father. And when he found him not, he departed sore +troubled, and said to himself that he would not betake him to his +own land till he had found Amis his fellow; and he sought him in +France and in Almaine, where soever he heard tell that his +kindred were, and could find no certainty of him.</p> +<p>Therewithal Amis together with his folk, ceased not to seek +his fellow Amile, until they came to the house of a noble man +where they were guested. Thereat they told by order all +their adventure and the noble man said to them: “Abide with +me, Sir Knights, and I will give my daughter to your lord, +because of the wisdom that I have heard of him, and I will make +you all rich of gold and of silver, and of havings.”</p> +<p>That word pleased them, and they I held the bridal with mickle +joy. But when they had abided there for a year and a half, +then said Amis to his ten fellows “We have done amiss in +that we have left seeking of Amile.” And he left +there two of his sergeants and his hanap, and went his ways +toward Paris.</p> +<p>Now by this time had Amile been a-seeking for Amis two years +past without ceasing. And whenas Amile drew nigh to Paris +he found a pilgrim and asked if he had seen Amis whom men had +chased out of his land; and that one said nay, he had not. +But Amile did off his coat and gave it to the pilgrim and said: +“Pray thou to our Lord and his Hallows that they give me to +find Amis my fellow.”</p> +<p>Then he departed from the pilgrim, and went his ways to Paris, +and found no-whither Amis his fellow.</p> +<p>But the pilgrim went his ways forthwith, and about vespers +happened on Amis, and they greeted each the other. And Amis +said to the pilgrim, had he seen or heard tidings in any land of +Amile, son of the Count of Alverne. And the pilgrim +answered him all marvelling: “Who art thou, Knight, who +thus mockest a pilgrim? Thou seemest to me that Amile who +this day asked of me if I had seen Amis his fellow. I wot +not for why thou hast changed thy garments, thy folk, thine +horses, and thine arms. Thou askest me now what thou didst +ask me to-day about tierce; and thou gavest me this +coat.”</p> +<p>“Trouble not thine heart,” said Amis, “I am +not he whom thou deemest; but I am Amis who seeketh +Amile.” And he gave him of his silver, and bade him +pray our Lord to give him to find Amile. And the pilgrim +said: “Go thy ways forthright to Paris, and I trow that +thou shalt find him whom thou seekest so sore +longing.” And therewith Aims went his ways full +eagerly.</p> +<p>Now on the morrow Amile was already departed from Paris, and +was sitting at meat with his knights hard by the water of Seine +in a flowery meadow. And when they saw Amis coming with his +fellows all armed, they rose up and armed them, and so went forth +before them; and Amis said to his fellows: “I see French +knights who come against us in arms. Now fight hardily and +defend your lives. If we may escape this peril, then shall +we go with great joy to Paris, and thereto shall we be received +with high favour at the Court of the King.”</p> +<p>Then were the reins let loose and the spears shaken aloft, and +the swords drawn on either side, in such wise that no semblance +was there that any should escape alive. But God the all +mighty who seeth all, and who setteth an end to the toil of the +righteous, did to hold aback them of one part and of the other +when they were now hard on each other, for then said Amis: +“Who are ye knights, who have will to slay Amis the exile +and his fellows?” At that voice Amile knew Amis his +fellow and said: “O thou Amis most well beloved, rest from +my travail, I am Amile, son of the Count of Alverne, who have not +ceased to seek thee for two whole years.”</p> +<p>And therewith they lighted down from their horses, and +embraced and kissed each other, and gave thanks to God of that +they were found. And they swore fealty and friendship and +fellowship perpetual, the one to the other, on the sword of +Amile, wherein were relics. Thence went they all together +to the Court of Charles, King of France; there might men behold +them young, well attempered, wise, fair, and of like fashion and +visage, loved of all and honoured. And the King received +them much joyously, and made of Amis his treasurer, and of Amile +his server.</p> +<p>But when they had abided thus three years, Amis said unto +Amile: “Fair sweet fellow, I desire sore to go see my wife +whom I have left behind; and I will return the soonest that I +may; and do thou abide at the Court. But keep thee well +from touching the daughter of the King; and above all things +beware of Arderi the felon.” Amile answered him: +“I will take heed of thy commandment; but betake thee back +hither so soon as thou mayest.”</p> +<p>Thuswise departed Amis. But Amile cast his eyes upon the +King’s daughter, and knew her so soon as he might; and +right soon forgat he the commandment and the teaching of Amis his +fellow. Yet is not this adventure strange, whereas he was +no holier than David, nor wiser than Solomon.</p> +<p>Amidst these things Arderi the traitor, who bore him envy, +came to him and said: “Thou wottest not, fellow, thou +wottest not, how Amis hath robbed the treasure of the King, and +therefore is fled away. Wherefore I require of thee thou +swear me fealty and friendship and fellowship, and I will swear +the same to thee on the holy Gospel.” And so when +that was done Amile doubted not to lay bare his secret to +Arderi.</p> +<p>But whenas Amile was a-giving water to the King to wash his +hands withal, the false Arderi said to the King: “Take thou +no water from this evil man, sir King: for he is more worthy of +death than of life, whereas he hath taken from the Queen’s +Daughter the flower of her virginity.” But when Amile +heard this, he fell adown all astonied, and might say never a +word; but the benign King lifted him up again, and said to him: +“Rise up, Amile, and have no fear, and defend thee of this +blame.” So he lifted himself up and said: “Have +no will to trow, sire, in the lies of Arderi the traitor, for I +wot that thou art a rightwise judge, and that thou turnest not +from the right way, neither for love nor for hatred. +Wherefore I pray thee that thou give me frist of counsel; and +that I may purge me of this guilt before thee, and do the battle +against Arderi the traitor, and make him convict of his lies +before all the Court.”</p> +<p>So the King gave to one and the other frist of counsel till +after nones, and that then they should come before him for to do +their devoir; and they came before the King at the term which he +had given them. Arderi brought with him the Count Herbert +for his part; but Amile found none who would be for him saving +Hildegarde the Queen, who took up the cause for him, and gat +frist of counsel for Amile, on such covenant that if Amile came +not back by the term established, she should be lacking all days +of the bed of the King.</p> +<p>But when Amile went to seek counsel, he happened on Amis, his +fellow, who was betaking him to the King’s Court; and Amile +lighted down from his horse, and cast himself at the feet of his +fellow, and said: “O thou, the only hope of my salvation, +evilly have I kept thy commandment; for I have run into wyte of +the King’s Daughter, and I have taken up battle against the +false Arderi.”</p> +<p>Then said Amis, sighing: “Leave we here our folk, end +enter into this wood to lay bare our secret.” And +Amis fell to blaming Amile, and said: “Change we our +garments and our horses, and get thee to my house, and I will do +the battle for thee against the traitor.” And Amile +answered: “How may I go into thine house, who have no +knowledge of thy wife and thy folk, and have never seen them face +to face?” But Amis said to him: “Go in all +safety, and seek wisely to know them: but take good heed that +thou touch not my wife.”</p> +<p>And thuswise they departed each from his fellow weeping; and +Amis went his ways to the Court of the King in the semblance of +Amile, and Amile to the house of his fellow in the semblance of +Amis. But the wife of Amis, when she saw him betake him +thither, ran to embrace him, whom she deemed was her husband, and +would have kissed him. But he said: “Flee thou from +before me, for I have greater need to lament than to play; +whereas, since I departed from thee, I have suffered adversity +full sore, and yet have to suffer.”</p> +<p>And a night-time whenas they lay in one bed, then Amile laid +his sword betwixt the two of them, and said to the woman: +“Take heed that thou touch me in no manner wise, else diest +thou straightway by this sword.” And in likewise did +he the other nights, until Amis betook him in disguise to his +house to wot if Amile kept faith with him of his wife.</p> +<p>Now was the term of the battle come, and the Queen abode Amile +all full of fear, for the traitor Arderi said, all openly, that +the Queen should nevermore draw nigh the bed of the King, whereas +she had suffered and consented hereto, that Amile should shame +her daughter. Amidst these words Amis entered into the +Court of the King clad in the raiment of his fellow, Amile, at +the hour of midday and said to the King: “Right debonaire +and loyal judge, here am I apparelled to do the battle against +the false Arderi, in defence of me, the Queen, and her daughter +of the wyte which they lay upon us.”</p> +<p>And the King answered benignly and said: “Be thou nought +troubled, Count, for if thou vanquishest the battle, I will give +thee to wife Belisant my daughter.”</p> +<p>On the morrow’s morn, Arderi and Amis entered armed into +the field in the presence of the King and his folk. And the +Queen with much company of virgins, and widows and wedded wives, +went from church to church making prayers for the Champion of her +daughter, and they gave gifts, oblations and candles.</p> +<p>But Amis fell to pondering in his heart, that if he should +slay Arderi, he would be guilty of his death before God, and if +he were vanquished, it should be for a reproach to him all his +days. Wherefore he spake thuswise to Arderi: “O thou, +Count, foul rede thou hast, in that thou desirest my death so +sorely, and hast foolishly cast thy life into peril of +death. If thou wouldest but take back the wyte which thou +layest on me, and leave this mortal battle, thou mayest have my +friendship and my service.”</p> +<p>But Arderi, as one out of his wit, answered him: “I will +nought of thy friendship nor thy service; but I shall swear the +sooth as it verily is, and I shall smite the head from off +thee.”</p> +<p>So Arderi swore that he had shamed the King’s Daughter, +and Amis swore that he lied; and straightway they dealt together +in strokes, and fought together from the hour of tierce right on +till nones. And Arderi was vanquished, and Amis smote off +his head.</p> +<p>The King was troubled that he had Arderi; yet was he joyous +that his daughter was purged of her guilt. And he gave to +Amis his daughter, and a great sum of gold and silver, and a city +hard by the sea wherein to dwell. And Amis received the +same with great joy. Then he returned at his speediest to +his hostel wherein he had left Amile his fellow; but whenas Amile +saw him coming with much company of horse, he deemed that Amis +was vanquished, and fell to fleeing: but Amis bade him return in +all safety, for that he had vanquished Arderi, and thereby was +wedded for him to the King’s Daughter. Thence then +did Amile betake him, and abode in the aforesaid city with his +wife.</p> +<p>But Amis abode with his wife, and he became mesel by the will +of our Lord, in such wise that he might not move from his bed; +for God chastiseth him that He loveth.</p> +<p>And his wife, who had to name Obias, had him in sore hate, and +many a time strove to strangle him; and when Amis found that, he +called to him two of his sergeants, Azones and Horatus by name, +and said to them: “Take me out of the hands of this evil +woman, and take my hanap privily and bear me to the Castle of +Bericain.”</p> +<p>So when they drew nigh to the castle, folk came to meet them, +and asked of them who was the feeble sick man whom they bore; and +they said it was Amis, the master of them, who was become mesel, +and prayed them that they would do him some mercy. But +nevertheless, they beat the sergeants of Amis, and cast him down +from the cart whereon they were bearing him, and said: +“Flee hence speedily if ye would not lose your +lives.”</p> +<p>Then Amis fell a-weeping, and said: “O Thou, God +debonaire and full of pity, give me death, or give me aid from +mine infirmity!” And therewith he said to his +sergeants: “Bring me to the Church of the Father of Rome, +whereas God may peradventure of His great mercy purvey for my +poverty.”</p> +<p>When they came to Rome, Constantin the Apostle, full of pity +and of holiness, and many a knight of Rome of them who had held +Amis at the font, came to meet him, and gave him sustenance +enough for him and his sergeants.</p> +<p>But in the space of three years thereafter was so great famine +in the city, that the father had will to thrust the son away from +his house. Then spake Azones and Horatus to Amis, and said: +“Fair sir, thou wottest how feally we have served thee +sithence the death of thy father unto this day, and that we have +never trespassed against thy commandment. But now we may no +longer abide with thee, whereas we have no will to perish of +hunger: wherefore we pray thee give us leave to escape this +mortal pestilence.”</p> +<p>Then Amis answered them weeping: “O ye fair sons, and +not sergeants, my only comfort, I pray you for God’s sake +that ye leave me not here, but bear me to the city of the Count +Amile my fellow.”</p> +<p>And they who would well obey his commandments, bore him +thither whereas was Amile; and there they fell to sounding on +their tartavelles before the Court of Amile, even as mesel folk +be wont to do. And when Amile heard the sound thereof he +bade a sergeant of his to bear to the sick man of bread and of +flesh, and therewithal his hanap, which was given to him at Rome, +full of good wine: and when the sergeant had done his commandment +he said to him when he came again: “By the faith which I +owe thee, sir, if I held not thine hanap in my hand, I had deemed +that it was even that which the sick man had; for one and the +same be they of greatness and of fashion.” Then said +Amile: “Go speedily and lead him hither to me.”</p> +<p>But when he was before his fellow he asked of him who he was, +and how he had gotten that hanap. Said he: “I am of +Bericain the Castle, and the hanap was given me by the Apostle of +Rome, when he baptized me.”</p> +<p>And when Amile heard that, he knew that it was Amis his fellow +who had delivered him from death, and given him to wife the +King’s Daughter of France; straightway he cast himself upon +him and fell to crying out strongly, and to weeping and +lamenting, and to kissing and embracing him. And when his +wife heard the same, she ran thereto all dishevelled, and making +great dole, whereas she had in memory of how he had slain +Arderi. And straightway they laid him in a very fair bed, +and said to him: “Abide with us, fair sir, until that God +shall do his will of thee, for whatsoever we have is for thee to +deal with.” And he abode with them, and his sergeants +with him.</p> +<p>Now it befel on a night whenas Amis and Amile lay in one +chamber without other company, that God sent to Amis Raphael his +angel, who said to him: “Sleepest thou, Amis?” +And he, who deemed that Amile had called to him, answered: +“I sleep not, fair sweet fellow.” Then the +angel said to him: “Thou hast answered well, whereas thou +art the fellow of the citizens of Heaven, and thou hast followed +after Job, and Thoby in patience. Now I am Raphael, an +angel of our Lord, and am come to tell thee of a medicine for +thine healing, whereas He hath heard thy prayers. Thou +shalt tell to Amile thy fellow, that he slay his two children and +wash thee in their blood, and thence thou shalt get thee the +healing of thy body.”</p> +<p>Then said Amis: “Never shall it be that my fellow be a +manslayer for the healing of me.” But the Angel said: +“Yet even so it behoveth to do.”</p> +<p>And when he had so said, the Angel departed; and therewith +Amile, as if a-sleeping, heard those words, and awoke, and said: +“What is it, fellow? who hath spoken unto +thee?” And Amis answered that none had spoken: +“But I have prayed to our Lord according to my +wont.” Then Amile said: “Nay, it is not so; +some one hath spoken to thee.” Therewith he arose and +went to the door of the chamber, and found it shut, and said: +“Tell me, fair brother, who hath spoken to thee these words +of the night?”</p> +<p>Then Amis fell a-weeping sorely, and said to him that it was +Raphael the Angel of our Lord who had said to him: “Amis, +our Lord biddeth that thou tell Amile that he slay his two +children, and wash thee with the blood of them, and that then +thou wilt be whole of thy meselry.”</p> +<p>But Amile was sore moved with these words, and said to him: +“Amis, I have given over to thee man-servant and +maid-servant and all my goods, and now thou feignest in fraud +that the Angel hath spoken to thee that I slay my two +children!” But forthwith Amis fell a-weeping, and +said: “I wot that I have spoken to thee things grievous, as +one constrained, and now I pray thee that thou cast me not out of +thine house.” And Amile said that he had promised +that he would hold him till the hour of his death: “But I +conjure thee by the faith which is betwixt thee and me, and by +our fellowship, and by the baptism which we took between me and +thee at Rome, that thou tell me if it be man or Angel who hath +said this to thee.”</p> +<p>Then Amis answered: “As true as it was an Angel who +spake to me this night, so may God deliver me from mine +infirmity.”</p> +<p>Then Amile fell to weeping privily, and thinking in his heart: +“This man forsooth was apparelled before the King to die +for me, and why should I not slay my children for him; if he hath +kept faith with me to the death, why keep I not faith? +Abraham was saved by faith, and by faith have the hallows +vanquished kingdoms; and God saith in the Gospel: ‘That +which ye would that men should do unto you, do ye even so to +them.’”</p> +<p>And Amile without more tarrying, went to the chamber of his +wife, and bade her go hear the service of our Lord; and the +Countess gat her to the church even as she was wont.</p> +<p>Then the Count took his sword, and went to the bed where lay +his children, and found them sleeping, and he threw himself upon +them, and fell to weeping bitterly and said: “Who hath +heard ever of a father who of his own will hath slain his +child? Ah, alas my children! I shall be no more your +father, but your cruel murderer!” And therewith the +children awoke because of the tears which fell on them from their +father; and the children, who looked on the face of their father, +fell a-laughing. And whereas they were of the age of three +years or thereabout, their father said to them: “Your +laughter shall be turned into weeping, for now shall your +innocent blood be shed.”</p> +<p>When he had so said he cut off their heads and then laid them +out behind the bed, and laid the heads to the bodies, and covered +them over even as they slept. And with their blood which he +received, he washed his fellow, and said: “Sire God, Jesus +Christ, who commandest men to keep faith upon the earth, and who +cleansest the mesel by thy word, deign thou to cleanse my fellow, +for the love of whom I have shed the blood of my +children.”</p> +<p>Then was Amis cleansed of his meselry, and they gave thanks to +our Lord with great joy and said: “Blessed be God, the +father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who healeth them that have hope +in him.”</p> +<p>And Amile clad his fellow in his own right goodly raiment; and +therewith they went to the church to give thanks there, and the +bells by the grace of God rang of themselves. And when the +people of the city heard that, they ran all together toward that +marvel.</p> +<p>Now the wife of the Count when she saw them both going +together, fell to asking which of the two was her husband and +said: “I know well the raiment of these twain, but I wot +not which is Amile.”</p> +<p>And the Count said: “I am Amile, and this my fellow is +Amis, who is whole.” Then the Countess wondered, and +said: “I see him all whole; but much I desire to know +whereby he is healed.” “Render we thanks to our +Lord,” said the Count, “nor disquiet us as to how it +may be.”</p> +<p>Now was come the hour of tierce, and neither the father nor +the mother was yet entered in to their children; but the father +sighed grievously for the death of his babes. Then the +Countess asked for her children to make her joy, and the Count +said: “Dame let be, let the children sleep!”</p> +<p>Therewith he entered all alone to the children to weep over +them, and he found them playing in the bed; but the scars of +their wounds showed about the necks of each of them even as a red +fillet.</p> +<p>Then he took them in his arms, and bore them to their mother, +and said “Make great joy, dame, whereas thy sons whom I had +slain by the commandment of the Angel are alive again, and by +their blood is Amis cured and healed.”</p> +<p>And when the Countess heard it she said: “O thou, Count, +why didst thou not lead me with thee to receive the blood of my +children, and I would have washed therewith Amis thy fellow and +my Lord?”</p> +<p>Then said the Count: “Dame, let be these words; and let +us be at the service of our Lord, who hath done such great +wonders in our house.”</p> +<p>Which thing they did even unto their death and held +chastity.</p> +<p>And they made great joy through that same city for ten +days.</p> +<p>But on the selfsame day that Amis was made whole, the devils +bore off his wife; they brake the neck of her, and bore away her +soul.</p> +<p>After these things Amis betook him to the Castle of Bericain +and laid siege before it; and abode there before so long, that +they of the castle rendered themselves to him. He received +them benignly, and pardoned them their evil will; and from +thenceforth he dwelt with them peaceably and he held with him the +elder son of Amile, and served our Lord with all his heart.</p> +<p>Thereafter Adrian, Apostle of Rome, sent word to Charles, King +of France, that he come help him against Desir, the King of the +Lombards, who much tormented the Church; and Charles was as then +in the town of Theodocion. Thither came Peter, messenger of +the Apostle, who said to him that the Apostle prayed him to come +defend Holy Church. Thereupon King Charles sent to the said +Desir messengers to pray him that he give back to the Holy Father +the cities and other things which he had taken from him, and that +he would give him thereto the sum of forty thousand sols of gold +in gold and in silver. But he would give way neither for +prayers nor gifts. Thereon the good King bade come to him +all manner folk, Bishops, Abbots, Dukes, Princes, Marquises and +other strong knights. And he sent to Cluses certain of +these for to guard the passage of the ways. Amongst the +which was Albins, Bishop of Angier, a man full of great +holiness.</p> +<p>Then the King Charles together with many warriors, drew nigh +to Cluses by the Mount of Sinense, and sent Bernhart his uncle, +and a many with him, by the Mount of Jove. And the vanward +said that Desir, together with all his force, was already at +Cluses, the which he had do dight with bulwarks of iron and +stone.</p> +<p>But whenas Charles drew nigh to Cluses, he sent his messengers +to Desir, praying him to give back to the Holy Father the cities +which he had taken; but he would nought for the prayer. +Again Charles bade him that he send three of the children of the +judges of Lombardy in hostage, until such time as he had given +back the cities of the Church, and that he would betake him to +France with all his host, without battle and without doing any +scathe. But he neither for that, nor for aught else would +blench one whit.</p> +<p>Now when God the almighty had seen the hard heart and malice +of this man; and that the French were sore desirous to get them +aback home, he set so great fear and so great trembling in the +hearts of the Lombards, that they turned to flight all of them, +although none chased them, and left there behind them their tents +and all their gear. When that saw Charles and his host, +they followed them and thrust forth into Lombardy French, +Almaines, English and all other manner of folk.</p> +<p>Of that host were Amis and Amile, who were the first in the +court of the King, and every way they heeded the works of our +Lord, in fasting, in praying, in alms-doing, in giving aid to +widows and orphans, in often times appeasing the wrath of the +King, in suffering the evil, and consoling the realm of the +Romans.</p> +<p>Now whenas Charles had much folk in Lombardy, King Desir came +to meet him with his little host; for whereas Desir had a priest, +Charles had a bishop; whereas that one had a monk, the other had +an abbot; where Desir had a knight Charles had a prince; the one +had a man afoot, the other a duke or a count. What should I +say, where that King had one knight, Charles had thirty. So +the two hosts fell to blows together with great cries and banners +displayed; stones and darts flying here and there, and knights +falling on every part.</p> +<p>And the Lombards fought so mightily for three days, that they +slew of King Charles a very great infinity. And after the +third day’s wearing Charles called to him the most mighty +and the strongest of his host, and said to them: “Either +die ye in battle, or gain ye the victory.”</p> +<p>So the King Desir and the whole host of the Lombards together +fled away to the place hight Mortara, which in those days was +called Fair-wood, whereas thereabout was the land delectable: +there they refreshed them and took heed to their horses.</p> +<p>On the morrow morn King Charles and his host came thither, and +found the Lombards all armed, and there they joined battle, and a +great multitude of dead there was on one side and the other, and +because of this slaughter had the place to name Mortara.</p> +<p>Moreover, there died Amis and Amile, for even as God had +joined them together by good accord in their life-days, so in +their death they were not sundered. Withal many another +doughty baron was slain with them. But Desir, together with +his judges, and a great multitude of the Lombards, fled away and +entered into Pavia; and King Charles followed after them, and +besieged the city on all sides. Withal he sent into France +for his wife and his children. But the holy Albins, bishop +of Angier, and many other bishops and abbots gave counsel to the +King and the Queen, that they should bury the dead and make there +a church: and the said counsel pleased much the King, and there +were made two churches, one by the commandment of Charles in +honour of St. Eusebius of Verceil, and the other by the +commandment of the Queen in honour of St. Peter.</p> +<p>And the King did do bear thither two arks of stone, wherein +were buried Amis and Amile; and Amile was borne into the Church +of St. Peter, and Amis into the Church of St. Eusebius; and the +other corpses were buried here and there. But on the +morrow’s morn the body of Amile, and his coffin therewith, +was found in the Church of St. Eusebius hard by the coffin of +Amis his fellow.</p> +<p>Now hear ye of this marvellous fellowship which might not be +sundered by death. This wonder wrought for them God, who +had given such might to His disciples that they had power to move +mountains and shift them. But because of this miracle the +King and the Queen abode there thirty days, and did do the +service of them that were slain, and worshipped the said churches +with great gifts.</p> +<p>Meanwhile the host of Charles wrought for the taking of the +city which they had besieged; and our Lord tormented them that +were within in such wise that they were brought to nought by +great feebleness and by mortalities. And after ten months +from the time when the city was besieged, Charles took Desir, and +all them who were with him, and laid the city and all the realm +under his subjection. And King Desir and his wife they led +into France.</p> +<p>But Saint Albins, who by that time had raised the dead to +life, and given light to many blind folk, ordained clerks, +priests, and deacons in the aforesaid Church of St. Eusebius, and +commanded them that they should without ceasing guard and keep +the bodies of those two fellows, AMIS and AMILE, who suffered +death at the hands of Desir, King of Lombardy, on the fourth of +the ides of October.</p> +<p>Reigning our Lord Jesus Christ, who liveth and reigneth +without end with the Father and the Holy Ghost. AMEN.</p> +<h2><a name="page59"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 59</span>The +Tale of King Florus and the Fair Jehane</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">Here</span> telleth the tale of a king who +had to name King Florus of Ausay. A full good knight was he +and a gentleman of high lineage. The said King Florus of +Ausay took to wife the daughter of the Prince of Brabant, who was +a woman very gentle, and of great line: and a right fair maid was +she when he wedded her and dainty of body and fashion; and saith +the tale that she was but of fifteen years when the King Florus +took her, and he but of seventeen. A full good life they +lived, as for young folk who loved together dearly: but King +Florus might have no child of her, whereof he was sore grieving, +and she also was exceeding heavy-hearted thereat. Much fair +was this lady, and much she loved God and Holy Church, and +therewith was so good almsgiver and so charitable that she fed +and clad poor people and kissed their feet. And to mesel +folk both carles and queans was she so kind and careful, that the +Holy Ghost dwelt in her. Her Lord King Florus went often to +tournays in Alemain and France, and in many other lands whereas +he wotted of them, when he was without war: much good he expended +thereon and much honour he gained thereby.</p> +<p>But now leaveth the tale to tell of him and taketh up the word +of a knight who dwelt in the marches of Flanders and +Hainault. This said knight was full valiant and hardy, and +right trusty, and had to wife a full fair dame of whom he had a +much fair daughter, who had to name Jehane and was then of the +age of twelve years. Much word there was of this fair +maiden; for in all the land was none so fair. Her mother +spake often to her lord that he should give her in marriage; but +he was so given up to the following of tournays, that he was +nowise hot on the wedding of his daughter, and his wife ever +admonished him thereof when he came home from his tournays.</p> +<p>Now this knight had a squire who had to name Robin, and was +the valiantest squire to be found in any land, and by his prowess +and his good fame oft he bore away the prize for his lord from +the tournay whereas he wended. Whereon it befel that his +lady thus bespake him: “Robin, my lord is so given up to +these tournays that I know not how to speak with him, whereof I +am sore at heart, for I would well that he should lay pain and +care to the wedding of my daughter; wherefore I pray thee, for +the love of me, that whenas thou seest the point thou say to him +that he doth very ill and is sore blamed that he weddeth not his +fair daughter, for there is no knight in the land how rich soever +he be who would not take her with a good will.” +“Lady,” said Robin, “ye have said well; I will +say it right well; since forsooth he troweth me of many things, +and so will he hereof meseemeth.” +“Robin,” said the lady, “I pray thee of this +business for all guerdon.” “Dame,” said +Robin, “I am well prayed hereof; and wot ye that I will do +to my power herein.” “It is enough,” said +the lady.</p> +<p>No long while after the knight betook him to wending to a +tournay afar from his land, and when he came there he was +retained straightway of the fellowship, he and the knight of +whose mesney he was, and his banner was borne into the hostel of +his lord. The tournay began, and the knight did so well by +means of the good deeds of Robin, his squire, that he bore off +the praise and prize of the tournay from one party and the +other. On the second day the knight betook him to wending +to his own land, and Robin put him to reason many times and +blamed him much in that he gave not his fair daughter in +marriage, and many times he said it to him, till at the last his +lord said to him: “Robin, thou and thy lady give me no +peace about the marrying of my daughter; but as yet I know and +see no man in my land unto whom I would give her.” +“Ah, sir,” said Robin, “there is not a knight +in thy land who would not take her with a good will.” +“Fair friend Robin, they are of no avail, all of them; and +to none of them shall I give her; and forsooth to no one would I +give her as now, save to one man only, and he forsooth is no +knight.” “Sir, tell me of him,” said +Robin, “and I shall speak or let speak to him so subtilly +that the marriage shall be made.” “Certes, +Robin,” said the knight, “from the semblance that I +see of thee thou willest well that my daughter should be +wedded.” “Sir,” said Robin, “thou +sayest sooth, for it is well time.” +“Robin,” said the knight, “whereas thou art so +eager that my daughter should be wedded, she shall be wedded +right soon if thou accord to the said wedding.” +“Certes, sir,” said Robin, “of a good will +shall I accord thereto.” “Wilt thou give me thy +word herein?” “Yea, sir,” said +Robin. “Robin, thou hast served me exceeding well, +and I have found thee a valiant man, and a loyal, and such as I +be thou hast made me, and great gain have I gotten by thee, to +wit, five hundred pounds of land; for it was but a little while +that I had but five hundred, and now have I a thousand, and I +tell thee that I owe much to thee: wherefore will I give my fair +daughter unto thee, if thou wilt take her.” +“Ha, sir,” said Robin, “God’s mercy, what +is this thou sayest? I am too poor a person to have so high +a maiden, nor one so fair and so rich as my damsel is; I am not +meet thereto. For there is no knight in this land, be he +never so gentle a man, but would take her with a good +will.” “Robin, know that no knight of this land +shall have her, but I shall give her to thee, if thou will it; +and thereto will I give thee four hundred pounds of my +land.” “Ha, sir,” said Robin, “I +deem that thou mockest me.” “Robin,” said +the knight, “wot thou surely that I mock thee +not.” “Ha, sir, neither my lady nor her great +lineage will accord hereto.” “Robin,” +said the knight, “nought shall be done herein at the will +of any of them. Hold! here is my glove, I invest thee with +four hundred pounds of my land, and I will be thy warrant for +all.” “Sir,” said Robin “I will +nought naysay it; fair is the gift since I know that is +soothfast.” “Robin,” said the knight, +“now hast thou the rights thereof.”</p> +<p>Then the knight delivered to him his glove, and invested him +with the land and his fair daughter.</p> +<p>Then rode the knight so far by his journeys, that he came into +his land, and when he was come thither, his wife, who was a much +fair lady, made him right great joy, and said to him: “Sir, +for God’s sake think of thy fair daughter, that she be +wedded.” “Dame,” said the lord, “so +much hast thou spoken hereof that I have wedded her.” +“Sir,” said the lady, “unto whom?” +“Forsooth, dame, I have given her to such a man as shall +never lack of valiancy: I have given her to Robin my +squire.” “Robin! Alas!” quoth the +lady; “Robin hath nought, and there is no knight so mighty +in all the land, but will take her with a good will; of a surety +Robin shall never have her.” “Yea, but have her +he shall, dame,” said the knight, “and I have +invested him with four hundred pounds of my land; and all that I +ought to warrant him, warrant him I will.” When the +dame heard that, she was much sorry, and said to her lord that +Robin should have her never. “Nay, dame,” said +the lord, “have her he shall, wilt thou or wilt thou not; +for even so have I made covenant and I will hold to the +same.”</p> +<p>When the lady heard her lord, she entered into her chamber and +fell a-weeping and making great dole; after the dole which she +made she sent to seek her brothers and her nephews and her +cousins germain, and showed them that which her lord would do; +and they said to her: “Dame, what will ye that we do? +We have no will to go against thy lord, for he is a knight +valiant and hardy and weighty withal: and on the other hand he +may do with his daughter according to his will, and with his land +which he hath gotten withal. So wot thou well that we will +not hang shield on neck herein.” “Nay? alas, +then!” said the dame, “so shall my heart never have +joy if I lose my fair daughter. At least, fair lords, I +pray you that ye show him that if he does thus he will neither do +well nor according to his honour.” +“Dame,” say they, “this setting forth will we +do with a good will.”</p> +<p>So they came unto the knight, and when they had showed him +their business he answered them right courteously: “Fair +lords, I will tell you what I will do for the love of you; if it +please you I will put off the wedding in this wise as I shall +tell you; to wit: Amongst you ye be rich and of great lands; ye +are nigh friends of my fair daughter, whom I love much. If +ye will give her four hundred pounds of land I will set aside the +wedding, and she shall be wedded elsewhere according to your +counsel.” “A-God’s name,” quoth +they, “we be nought fain to lay down so much.” +“Well, then,” said the knight, “since ye will +not do this, then suffer me to do with my daughter as I +list.” “Sir, with a good will,” said +they.</p> +<p>So the knight sent for his chaplain, and brought thither his +fair daughter, and let affiance her to Robin, and set a day for +the wedding. But the third day thereafter, Robin spake to +his lord, and prayed him make him a knight, whereas it was nought +meet that he should take to him so high a wife and so fair before +he was a knight. His lord had great joy thereof, and the +next day he was made knight, and the third day wedded the fair +maiden with great feast and joyance.</p> +<p>But when master Robin was made knight he spake thus to his +lord: “Sir, ye have made me knight; and true it is that +against the peril of death I vowed me to the road unto Saint +Jamesward on the morrow of my knighting; wherefore I pray thee +take it not in dudgeon if to-morrow morn I must needs go my ways +so soon as I shall have wedded thy fair daughter; whereas in +nowise will I break mine oath.” “Forsooth, +master Robin, if thou leave thus my fair daughter and thus wise +go your ways, ye shall be much to blame.” +“Sir,” said he, “I shall come back right soon +if God will; but this wayfaring I needs must +perforce.” Whenas a certain knight of the court of +the lord heard these words he blamed Sir Robin much, whereas he +was leaving his fair wife at such a point, and Sir Robin said +that he needs must do it. “Certes,” said the +knight, who had to name Raoul, “if thou goest thus to Saint +James without touching thy fair wife, I will make thee cuckold +before thine home-coming, and when thou comest home I will give +thee good tokens that I have had share of her. Now I will +lay my land thereto against thine, which our lord hath given +thee, for I have well four hundred pounds of land even as thou +hast.” “Forsooth,” said Sir Robin, +“my wife is not come of such blood as that she shall misdo +against me, and I may not believe in it nowise: I will make the +wager with thee, if it please thee.” +“Yea,” said Sir Raoul, “wilt thou pledge thee +thereto?” “Yea, verily,” said Sir Robin, +“and thou?” “Yea, and I also. Now +go we to my lord and make record of our covenant.” +“That will I well,” said Sir Robin. Therewith +they go unto the lord, and the wager was recorded, and they +pledged them to hold thereto. On the morrow betimes Sir +Robin wedded the fair maiden, and straightway after mass was +said, he departed from the house and left the wedding, and took +the road for St. Jakem.</p> +<p>But now leaveth the tale to tell of him and telleth of Sir +Raoul, who was in great imagination how he might win his wager +and lie by the fair lady. And saith the tale that the lady +held her much simply while her lord was on pilgrimage, and was +going to the minster with a good will, and prayed God that he +would bring back her lord. But Sir Raoul pained him on the +other hand how he might win his wager, for great doubt he had to +lose his land. He spake with the carline who dwelt with the +fair lady, and said to her, that if she could so bring it about +that she might set him in place and at point that he might speak +privily with my lady Jehane, and have his will of her, he would +give her much good, so that there would be no hour when she +should not be rich. “Sir, forsooth,” said the +carline, “thou art so fair a knight, and so wise and +courteous that my lady should well ought to love thee par amours, +and I will put myself to the pain herein to the utmost of my +might.” Then the knight drew out straightway a forty +sols, and gave it to her to buy a gown. The carline took +them with a goodwill, and set them away surely, and said that she +would speak with the lady. The knight departed from the +carline, and the carline abode and took her lady to task when she +came back from the minster, and said to her: “In +God’s name, lady, tell me true! My lord, when he went +to Saint Jakem, had he ever lain by thee?” +“Wherefore dost thou say this, dame Hersent?” +“Lady, because I trow that thou be yet a clean +maid.” “Certes, dame Hersent, so am I verily; +for of no woman wot I who would do such a deed.” +“Lady,” said dame Hersent, “great damage it is; +for if ye wotted how great is the joy that women have when they +be with a man who loveth them, ye would say that there is no joy +so great; and for this cause I marvel much that ye love not par +amours even as these other ladies who all love. But if it +pleaseth thee the matter is ready to hand; whereas I wot of a +knight, fair and valiant and wise, who will love thee with a good +will; a much rich man is he, and fairer by far than the coward +recreant who hath left thee. And if ye dare love ye may +have whatso ye dare ask; and so much joy shall ye have as never +lady had more.” So much spake the carline by her +words that the needle of nature stirred somewhat. The lady +asked who the knight might be. “Who is it, +lady? A-God’s name! I may well name him. +It is the lovely, the valiant, the hardy Sir Raoul, who is one of +the mesney of thy father; the kindest heart men wot +of.” “Dame Hersent,” said the lady, +“thou wert best let such words be; for I have no desire to +misdo of my body, of no such blood am I come.” +“Dame,” said the carline, “I wot well. +But never shalt thou know the worthy joy when a man wendeth with +a woman.”</p> +<p>Thuswise abode the matter. Sir Raoul came back to the +carline, and she told him how she had talked with the lady, and +what she had answered. “Dame Hersent,” said the +knight, “thus wise should a good lady answer; but ye shall +speak with her again, for one doeth not the business at the first +stroke: and hold, here be twenty sols to buy thee a cloth to thy +surcoat.” The carline took the silver, and spake with +the lady often, but nought it availed.</p> +<p>Wore the time till at last they heard news that Sir Robin was +wending back from Saint Jakem, and that he was already hard on +Paris. Soon was known the tidings, and Sir Raoul, who had +fear of the losing of his lands, returned to the carline, and +spake with her; and she said that she might not bring the +business to an end: but that she would do so much for the love of +him, if she should earn her service, that she would so bring it +about as that there should be none in the house save he and this +lady: and then he might do his will on her, will she nill she: +and he said that he asked for nought else. +“Then,” said the carline, “ye, my lord, shall +come within eight days, and I will do my lady to bathe her in her +chamber, and I will send all the mesney out of the house and out +of the castle; then can ye come to her bathing in the chamber, +and may have your desire of her, either with her good will or +maugre.” “Ye have well said,” quoth +he.</p> +<p>Abode matters thus till Sir Robin sent word that he was coming +to hand, and would be at the house on the Sunday. Then the +carline let bathe the lady the Thursday before, and the bath was +in her chamber, and the fair lady entered therein. But the +carline sent after Sir Raoul, and he came. Thereafter she +sent all the folk of the household out of the house. Sir +Raoul came his ways to the chamber and entered therein, and +greeted the lady, but she greeted him not again, but said +thus:</p> +<p>“Sir Raoul, thou art nowise courteous. Whether +wottest thou forsooth that it is well with me of thy coming? +accursed be thou, villain knight!” But Sir Raoul +said: “My lady, mercy, a-God’s name! I am but +dying for grief of thee. For God’s sake have pity of +me!” “Sir Raoul,” said she, “I will +have no mercy in such wise that I will ever be thy darling. +And wot thou well that if thou leave me not in peace I will tell +my lord, my father, the honour thou requirest of me: for I am +none such as that.” “Nay, lady, is it so, +then?” “Yea, verily,” said she.</p> +<p>Therewith Sir Raoul drew nigh to her, and embraced her in his +arms, which were strong enow, and drew her all naked out of the +bath and bore her toward her bed; and so soon as he drew her +forth of the bath he saw a black spot which she had on her right +groin hard by her natural part; and he thought therewithal that +that were a good token that he had lain by her. Thus as he +bore her off to her bed, his spurs hooked them into the serge at +the bed’s edge toward the foot thereof, and down fell the +knight, he and the lady together, he below and she above; but she +rose up straightway and caught up a billet of wood, and smote Sir +Raoul therewith amidst the face, and made him a wound both deep +and wide, so that the blood fell to earth. So when Sir +Raoul felt himself hurt he had no great desire to play, wherefore +he arose and got him gone out of the chamber straightway: he did +so much that he came to his hostel, where he dwelt a good league +thence, and there he had his wound dealt with. But the good +dame entered into her bath again, and called dame Hersent, and +told the adventure of the knight.</p> +<p>Much great array made the father of the fair lady against the +coming of Sir Robin, and he summoned much folk, and sent and bade +Sir Raoul to come; but he sent word that he might not come, for +that he was sick. On the Sunday camel Sir Robin, and was +received right fairly; and the father of the fair lady went to +seek Sir Raoul and found him wounded, and said that now for +nought might he abide behind from the feast. So he dight +his face and his hurt the best wise he might, and went to the +feast, which was great and grand day long of drinking and of +eating, and of dancing and carolling.</p> +<p>When night was come Sir Robin went to bed with his wife, who +received him much joyously as a good dame ought to her lord; so +abode they in joy and in feast the more part of the night. +On the morrow great was the feast, and the victual was dight and +they ate. But when it was after dinner, Sir Raoul bore on +hand Sir Robin, and said that he had won his land, whereas he had +known his wife carnally, by the token, to wit, that she had a +black spot on her right thigh and a pearlet hard by her +jewel. “Thereof I wot not,” said Sir Robin, +“for I have not looked on her so close.” +“Well, then, I tell thee,” said Sir Raoul, “by +the oath that thou hast given me that thou take heed thereof, and +do me right.” “So will I, verily,” said +Sir Robin.</p> +<p>When night was, Sir Robin played with his wife, and found and +saw on her right thigh the black spot, and a pearlet hard by her +fair jewel: and when he knew it he was sore grieving. On +the morrow he went to Sir Raoul, and said before his lord that he +had lost his wager. Heavy of heart was he day long, and +when it was night he went to the stable, and set the saddle on +his palfrey, and went forth from the house, bearing with him what +he might get him of silver. So came to Paris, and when he +was at Paris he abode there three days. But now leaveth the +tale to tell of him, and taketh up the word concerning his +wife.</p> +<p>Here saith the tale that much sorrowful was the fair lady and +heavy of heart, when she called to mind how she had cast her lord +out of his house. Much she thought of the wherefore thereof +and wept and made great dole; till her father came to her, and +said that he were fainer if she were yet to wed, whereas she had +done him shame and all them of his lineage; and he told her how +and wherefore. When she heard that, she was sore grieved +and denied the deed downright; but nought availed. For it +is well known that shame so sore is contrary to all women, that +if a woman were to burn all, she would not be trowed of such a +misdoing, once it were laid on her.</p> +<p>On the first hour of the night the lady arose, and took all +pennies that she had in her coffer, and took a nag and a harness +thereto, and gat her to the road; and she had let shear her fair +tresses, and was otherwise arrayed like to an esquire. So +much she went by her journeys that she came to Paris, and went +after her lord; and she said and declared that she would never +make an end before she had found him. Thus she rode like to +a squire. And on a morning she went forth out of Paris, and +wended the way toward Orleans until she came to the Tomb Isory, +and there she fell in with her lord Sir Robin. Full fain +she was when she saw him, and she drew up to him and greeted him, +and he gave her greeting back and said: “Fair friend, God +give thee joy!” “Sir,” said she, +“whence art thou?” “Forsooth, fair +friend, I am of old Hainault.” “Sir, whither +wendeth thou?” “Forsooth, fair friend, I wot +not right well whither I go, nor where I shall dwell. +Forsooth, needs must I where fortune shall lead me; and she is +contrary enough; for I have lost the thing in the world that most +I ever loved: and she also hath lost me. Withal I have lost +my land, which was great and fair enough. But what hast +thou to name, and whither doth God lead thee?” +“Certes, sir,” said Jehane, “I am minded for +Marseilles on the sea, where is war as I hope. There would +I serve some valiant man, about whom I shall learn me arms if God +will. For I am so undone in mine own country that therein +for a while of time I may not have peace. But, sir, +meseemeth that thou be a knight, and I would serve thee with a +right good will if it please thee. And of my company wilt +thou be nought worsened.” “Fair friend,” +said Sir Robin, “a knight am I verily. And where I +may look to find war, thitherward would I draw full +willingly. But tell me what thou hast to name?” +“Sir,” said she, “I have to name +John.” “In a good hour,” quoth the +knight. “And thou, sir, how hight thou?” +“John,” said he, “I have to name +Robin.” “Sir Robin, retain me as thine esquire, +and I will serve thee to my power.” “John, so +would I with a good will. But so little of money have I +that I must needs sell my horse before three days are worn. +Wherefore I wot not how to do to retain thee.” +“Sir,” said John, “be not dismayed thereof, for +God will aid thee if it please him. But tell me where thou +wilt eat thy dinner?” “John, my dinner will +soon be made; for not another penny have I than three sols of +Paris.” “Sir,” said John, “be +nought dismayed thereof, for I have hard on ten pounds Tournais, +whereof thou shalt not lack, if thou hast not to spend at thy +will.” “Fair friend John, have thou mickle +thanks.”</p> +<p>Then made they good speed to Montlhery: there John dight meat +for his lord and they ate. When they had eaten, the knight +slept in a bed and John at his feet. When they had slept, +John did on the bridles, and they mounted and gat to the +road. They went so far by their journeys that they came to +Marseilles-on-sea; but of war they heard no word there, whereof +were they much sorry. But now leaveth the tale to tell of +them two, and returneth to tell of Sir Raoul, who had by +falsehood gained the land of Sir Robin.</p> +<p>Here telleth the tale that so long did Sir Raoul hold the land +of Sir Robin without righteous cause, for seven years’ +wearing. Then he took a great sickness and of that sickness +was sore beaten down, insomuch that he was on the point of +death. Now he doubted much the transgression which he had +done against the fair lady the daughter of his lord, and against +her husband also, whereby they were undone, both of them by +occasion of his malice. Exceeding ill at ease was he of his +wrongdoing, which was so great that he durst not confess it.</p> +<p>Came a day when he was sore undone by his sickness, so he sent +for his chaplain whom he loved much, for he had found him a man +valiant and loyal; and he said to him: “Sir, thou who art +my father before God, know that I look to die of this sickness, +wherefore I pray thee for God’s sake that ye aid me with +your counsel, for great is my need thereof, for I have done an +ill deed so hideous and dark that scarce shall I have mercy +therefor.” The chaplain bade him tell it out hardily, +and that he would aid him with counsel to his power; till at last +Sir Raoul told him all as ye have heard afore. And he +prayed him for God’s sake give him counsel, so great as was +his misdoing. “Sir,” said he, “be nought +dismayed, for if thou wilt do the penance which I enjoin thee, I +will take thy transgression on me and on my soul, so that thou +shalt be quit.” “Yea, tell me then,” said +the knight. “Sir,” said he, “thou shalt +take the cross far over sea, and thou shalt get thee thereto +within the year wherein thou art whole, and shalt give pledges to +God that thou shalt so do: and in every place where men ask thee +the occasion of thy journey, thou shalt tell it to all who shall +ask it of thee.” “All this will I well +do,” said the knight. “Then, sir, give thou +good pledge.” “With a good will,” said +the knight; “thou thyself shalt abide surety for me, and I +swear to thee on my knighthood that I shall quit thee +well.” “A-God’s name, sir!” quoth +the chaplain, “I will be thy surety.” Now +turned the knight to amendment, and was all whole; and a year +wore wherein he went not over sea. The chaplain spake to +him often thereof, but he held the covenant as but a jest; till +at last the chaplain said that but if he acquitted him before God +of his pledge, he would tell the tale to the father of the fair +damsel, who had been thus undone by him. When the knight +heard that, he said to the chaplain that within half a year he +would set about the crossing of the sea, and so swore to +him. But now leaveth the tale to tell of the knight, and +returneth to telling of King Florus of Ausaye, of whom for a +great while it hath been silent.</p> +<p>Now saith the tale that a much good life led King Florus of +Ausay and his wife, as of young folk who loved each other; but +much sorry and heavy-hearted were they that they might have no +child. The lady made great prayers to God, and let sing +masses; but whereas it was not well pleasing to God, it might not +be. But on a day came thither into the house of King Florus +a good man who had his dwelling in the great forest of Ausaye in +a place right wild; and when the queen knew that he was come she +came unto him and made him right great joy. And because he +was a good man she confessed to him and told him all her ailing, +and how that she was exceeding heavy of heart, because she had +had no child by her lord. “Ah, lady,” said the +good man, “since it pleaseth not our Lord, needs must thou +abide it; and when it pleaseth him thou shalt have one, or +two.” “Certes, sir,” said the lady, +“I were fain thereof; for my lord holdeth me the less dear, +and the high barons of this land also. Withal it hath been +told to me that they have spoken to my lord to leave me and take +another.” “Verily, dame,” said the good +man, “he would do ill; it would be done against God and +against Holy Church.” “Ah, sir, I pray thee to +pray to God for me that I may have a child of my lord, for great +fear I have lest he leave me.” “Dame,” +said the good man, “my prayer shall avail but little, but +if it please God; nevertheless I will pray heartily.”</p> +<p>The good man departed from the lady, and the barons of the +land and of the country came to the King Florus, and bade him +send away his wife and take another, since by this he might have +no child. And if he did not after their counsel, they would +go and dwell otherwhere; for in no case would they that the realm +should be without an heir. King Florus feared his barons +and trowed their word, and he said that he would send away his +wife, and that they should seek him another, and they trusted him +therein. When the lady knew it she was exeeeding heavy of +heart; but nought durst she do, for she knew that her lord would +leave her. So she sent for the hermit who had been her +confessor, and he came to her. Then the lady told him all +the tale of the matter of the barons, who would seek for their +lord another woman. “And I pray thee, good father, +that thou wouldst aid me, and counsel me what I should +do.” “Dame,” said the good man, “if +it be so as thou sayest, ye must needs suffer it; for against thy +lord and against his barons ye may do nought +perforce.” “Sir,” said the good lady, +“thou sayest sooth: but if it please God, I were fain to be +a recluse nigh unto thee; whereby I may be at the service of God +all the days of my life, and that I may have comfort of +thee.” “Dame,” said the good man, +“that would be over strange a thing, whereas thou art too +young a lady and too fair. But I will tell thee what thou +shalt do. Hard by my hermitage there is an abbey of White +Nuns, who are right good ladies, and I counsel you go thither; +and they will have great joy of thee for thy goodness and thy +high dignity.” “Sir,” said she, +“thou hast well said; I will do all that thou counsellest +me.”</p> +<p>On the morrow King Florus spake to his wife, and said thus: +“Needs must thou and I sunder, for that thou mayst have no +child by me. Now I say thee soothly that the sundering lies +heavy on me, for never shall I love woman as I have loved +thee.” Therewith fell King Florus to weep sorely, and +the lady also. “Sir,” said she, +“a-God’s mercy! And whither shall I go, and +what shall I do?” “Dame, thou shalt do well, if +it please God, for I will send thee back well and richly into thy +country to thy kindred.” “Sir,” said the +lady, “it shall not be so: I have purveyed me an abbey of +nuns, where I will be, if it please thee; and there I will serve +God all my life; for since I lose thy company I am she that no +man shall go with any more.” Thereat King Florus wept +and the lady also. But on the third day the queen went to +the abbey; and the other queen was come, and had great feast made +her, and great joy of her friends. King Florus held her for +three years, but never might have child of her. But here +the tale holdeth peace of King Florus, and betaketh it again to +Sir Robin, and to John who were at Marseilles.</p> +<p>Here telleth the tale that much sorry was Sir Robin when he +came to Marseilles, whereas he heard tell of nought toward in the +country; so he said to John: “What do we? Thou hast +lent me of thy moneys, whereof I thank thee: I will give them +back to thee, for I will sell my palfrey, and quit me toward +thee.” “Sir,” said John, “if it +please thee, believe me, and I shall tell thee what we shall +do. I have yet well an hundred sols of Tournay, and if it +please thee, I will sell our two horses, and make money thereby: +for I am the best of bakers that ye may wot of; and I will make +French bread, and I doubt me not but I shall earn my spending +well and bountifully.” “John,” said Sir +Robin, “I grant it thee to do all as thou wilt.”</p> +<p>So on the morrow John sold the two horses for ten pounds +Tournays, and bought corn and let grind it, and bought baskets, +and fell to making French bread, so good and so well made that he +sold it for more than the best baker of the town might do; and he +did so much within two years that he had well an hundred pounds +of chattels. Then said John to his lord: “I rede thee +well that we buy us a very great house, and that we buy us wine +and take to harbouring good folk.” +“John,” said Sir Robin, “do according to thy +will, for I grant it thee, and moreover I praise thee +much.” So John bought a house, great and fair, and +harboured good folk, and earned enough plenteously; and he +arrayed his lord well and richly; and Sir Robin had his palfrey, +and went to eat and drink with the most worthy of the town, and +John sent him wine and victual, so that all they that haunted his +company marvelled thereat. So much he gained that in three +years’ time he had gotten him more than three hundred +pounds of garnishment, out-taken his plenishing, which was well +worth fifty pounds. But here leaveth the tale to tell of +Sir Robin and of John, and goeth back to tell of Sir Raoul.</p> +<p>For, saith the tale, that the chaplain held Sir Raoul right +short that he should go over sea, and quit him of the pledge he +had laid down; for great fear he had lest he yet should leave it; +and so much he did that Sir Raoul saw well that he needs must +go. So he dight his journey, and arrayed him right richly, +as he that hath well enough thereto; and so he betook him to the +road with three squires: and went so much by his journeys that he +came into Marseilles-on-sea and took lodging in the French +hostel, whereas dwelt Sir Robin and John. So soon as John +saw him she knew him by the scar of the wound she had made him, +and because she had seen him many times. The knight +sojourned in the town fifteen days, and hired him passage. +But the while he sojourned, John drew him in to privy talk, and +asked of him the occasion of his going over sea, and Sir Raoul +told him all the occasion, as one who had little heed thereof, +even as the tale hath told afore. When John heard that, he +held his peace. Sir Raoul set his goods aboard ship, and +went upon the sea; but tarried so much the ship wherein he was +that he abode in the town for eight days; but on the ninth day he +betook him to go his ways to the holy sepulchre, and did his +pilgrimage, and confessed him the best he might: and his +confessor charged him in penance that he should give back the +land which he held wrongfully to the knight and his wife. +Whereon he said to his confessor, that when he came into his own +country he would do what his heart bade him. So he departed +from Jerusalem and came to Acre, and dight his passage as one who +had great longing to repair to his own country. He went up +on to the sea, and wended so diligently, as well by night as by +day, till in less than three months he came to the port of +Aigues-mort. Then he departed from the port and came +straight to Marseilles, wherein he sojourned eight days in the +hostel of Sir Robin and John, which hight the French house. +Never did Sir Robin know him, for on that matter he thought +nothing. At the end of eight days he departed from +Marseilles, he and his squires, and went so long by his journeys +that he came into his own country, where he was received with +great joy, as one who was a knight rich in land and +chattels. Thereon his chaplain took him to task, and asked +of him if any had demanded the occasion of his journey; and he +said: “Yea, in three places, to wit: Marseilles, Acre, and +Jerusalem: and he of whom I took counsel bade me to give back the +land to Sir Robin, if I hear tidings of him, or to his wife else, +or to his heir.” “Certes,” said the +chaplain; “he bade thee good counsel.” Thus was +Sir Raoul in his own country a great while in rest and good +ease. But here leaveth the tale to tell of him, and +returneth to Sir Robin and John.</p> +<p>Here saith the tale that when Sir Robin and John had been at +Marseilles for six years that John had gotten to the value of six +hundred pounds, and they were come into the seventh year, and +John might gain eke what he would, and so sweet he was, and so +debonaire that he made himself loved of all the neighbours, and +therewithal he was of good hap as he might not be of more, and +maintained his lord so nobly and so richly that it was wonder to +behold. When the end of the seven years drew nigh, John +fell to talk with his lord Sir Robin, and spake thus: “Sir, +we have now been a great while in this country, and so much have +we gained, that we have hard on six hundred pounds of chattels, +what of money, what of vessel of silver.” +“Forsooth, John,” said Sir Robin, “they be not +mine, but thine; for it is thou hast earned them.” +“Sir,” said John, “saving thy grace, it is not +so, but they are thine: for thou art my rightful lord, and never, +if it please God, will I change.” “Gramercy, +John, I hold thee not for servant, but for companion and +friend.” “Sir,” said John, “all +days I have kept thee loyal company, and shall do from +henceforth.” “By my faith,” said Sir +Robin, “I will do what so pleaseth thee: but to go into my +country, I wot not to say thereof: for I have lost so much there +that hardly shall my scathe be righted to me.” +“Sir,” said John, “be thou never dismayed of +that matter; for when thou art come into thine own country thou +shalt hear good tidings, please God. And doubt thou +nothing, for in all places whereas we shall be, if it please God, +I shall earn enough for thee and for me.” +“Certes, John,” said Sir Robin, “I will do as +it pleaseth thee, and where thou wilt that I go, thither will +I.” “Sir,” said John, “I shall sell +our chattels, and dight our journey, and we will go within +fifteen days.” “A-God’s name, +John,” said Sir Robin.</p> +<p>John sold all his plenishing, whereof he had good store and +goodly, and bought three horses, a palfrey for his lord, another +for himself, and a sumpter horse. Then they took leave of +the neighbours, and the most worthy of the town, who were sore +grieved of their departure.</p> +<p>Wore the way Sir Robin and John, insomuch that in three +weeks’ space they came into their country. And Robin +made known to his lord, whose daughter he had had, that he was at +hand. The lord was much joyful thereof, for he was deeming +well that his daughter would be with him. And she indeed it +was, but in the guise of an esquire. Sir Robin was well +received of his lord, whose daughter he had erewhile +wedded. When the lord could have no tidings of his +daughter, he was right sorrowful; nevertheless he made good feast +to Sir Robin, and bade thereto his knights and his neighbours; +and thither came Sir Raoul, who held the land of Sir Robin +wrongfully. Great was the joy that day and the morrow, and +that while Sir Robin told to John the occasion of the wager, and +how Sir Raoul held his land wrongfully. “Sir,” +said John, “do thou appeal him of treason, and I will do +the battle for thee.” “Nay, John,” said +Sir Robin, “thou shalt not do it.”</p> +<p>So they left it till the morrow, when John came to Sir Robin +and did him to wit that he would speak to the father of his wife; +and thus he said to him: “Sir, thou art lord to my lord Sir +Robin after God, and he wedded thy daughter time was. But +there was a wager betwixt him and Sir Raoul, who said that he +would make him cuckold by then he returned from St. Jakeme; +whereof Sir Raoul hath made false report, whereas he hath had nor +part nor lot in thy fair daughter. And he hath done +disloyal treason. All which things I am ready to prove on +his body.” Then leapt forth Sir Robin and said: +“John, fair friend, none shall do the battle save I; nowise +shalt thou hang shield on neck herein.” Therewith Sir +Robin reached his pledge to his lord; and Sir Raoul was sore +grieving of the pledging, but needs must he defend him, or cry +craven; so he reached for this pledge right cowardly. So +were the pledges given, and day of battle appointed on that day +fifteen days without naysay.</p> +<p>Now hear ye marvels of John what he did. John who had to +name my Lady Jehane, had in the house of her father a cousin +germain of hers, who was a fair damsel, and of some five and +twenty years. Jehane came to her, and laid all the whole +truth bare to her, and told her the whole business from point to +point, and showed her all openly; and prayed her much that she +would hide all the matter until the time and hour came when she +should make herself known to her father. Wherefore her +cousin, who knew her well, said to her that she would keep all +well hidden, so that by her it should never be discovered. +Then was the chamber of her cousin dight for the Lady Jehane; and +the said lady, the while of the fortnight before the battle +should be, let bathe her and stove her; and she took her ease the +best she might, as one who well had therewithal. And she +let cut and shape for her duly four pair of gowns, of Scarlet, of +Vair, of Perse, and of cloth of silk; and she took so well her +ease that she came back to her most beauty, and was so fair and +dainty as no lady might be more.</p> +<p>But when it came to the end of the fifteen days, then was Sir +Robin sore grieving of John his esquire, because he had lost him, +and knew not where he was become. But none the more did he +leave to apparel him for the fight as one who had heart enough +and hardihood.</p> +<p>On the morn of the day whenas the battle was appointed, came +both the knights armed. They drew apart one from the other, +and then they fell on each other with the irons of their glaives, +and smote on each other with so great heat that they bore down +each other’s horses to the earth beneath their +bodies. Sir Raoul was hurt a little on the left side. +Sir Robin rose up the first, and came a great pace on Sir Raoul, +and smote him a great stroke on the helm in such wise that he +beat down the head-piece and drave in the sword on to the +mail-coif, and sheared all thereto; but the coif was of steel so +strong that he wounded him not, howbeit he made him to stagger, +so that he caught hold of the arson of the saddle; and if he had +not, he had fallen to earth. Then Sir Raoul, who was a good +knight, smote Sir Robin so great a stroke upon the helm that he +all to astonied him; and the stroke fell down to the shoulder, +and sheared the mails of the hawberk, but hurt him not. +Then Sir Robin smote him with all his might, but he threw his +shield betwixt, and Sir Robin smote off a quarter thereof. +When Sir Raoul felt his strong strokes, he misdoubted him much, +and wished well that he were over sea, if he were but quit of the +battle, and Sir Robin back on the land which he held. +Nevertheless he put forth all his might and drew nigh, and fell +on Sir Robin much hardly, and gave him a great stroke upon his +shield so that he sheared it to the boss thereof. But Sir +Robin laid a great stroke upon his helm, but he threw his shield +betwixt and Sir Robin sheared it amidst, and the sword fell upon +the neck of the horse, and sheared it amidst, and beat down +straightway both horse and man. Then Sir Raoul leapt to his +feet, as one who was in a stour exceeding heavy. Then Sir +Robin lighted down, whereas he would not betake him to his horse +while the other was afoot.</p> +<p>Now were both knights come unto the skirmish and they hewed in +pieces each other’s shields and helms and haw—berks, +and drew the blood from each other’s bodies with their +trenchant swords; and had they smitten as great strokes as at +first, soon had they slain each other, for they had so little of +their shields that scarce might they cover their fists +therewith. Yet had neither of them fear of death or shame: +nevertheless the nighness of them to each other called on them to +bring the battle to an end. Sir Robin took his sword in +both hands, and smote Sir Raoul with all his might on the helm, +and sheared it amidst, so that one half thereof fell upon the +shoulders, and he sheared the steel coif, and made him a great +wound on the head; and Sir Raoul was so astonied of the stroke +that he bent him to the earth on one knee; but he rose up +straightway and was in great misease when he thus saw his head +naked, and great fear of death he had. But he came up to +Sir Robin and fetched a stroke with all his might on what he had +of shield and he sheared it asunder and the stroke came on the +helm and cut into it well three fingers, so that the sword came +on the iron coif, which was right good, so that the sword brake +a-twain. When Sir Raoul saw his sword broken and his head +naked, he doubted much the death. Nevertheless he stooped +down to the earth, and took up a great stone in his two hands, +and cast it after Sir Robin with all his might; but Sir Robin +turned aside when he saw the stone coming, and ran on Sir Raoul, +who took to flight all over the field; and Sir Robin said to him +that he would slay him but if he cried craven. Whereon Sir +Raoul thus bespake him: mercy on me, gentle knight, and ere my +sword, so much as I have thereof, and I render it to thee, and +all of me therewith unto thy mercy; and I pray thee have pity of +me, and beg of thy lord and mine to have mercy on me and that +thou and he save my life, and I render and give both thy land and +mine. For I have held it against right and against +reason. And I have wrongfully defamed the fair lady and +good.</p> +<p>When Sir Robin heard this, he said that he had done enough, +and he prayed his lord so much that he pardoned Sir Raoul of his +misdeed, in such wise that he was quit thereof on the condition +that he should go over seas and abide there lifelong.</p> +<p>Thuswise conquered Sir Robin his land and the land of Sir +Raoul to boot for all his days. But he was so sore grieving +and sad at heart of his good dame and fair, whom he had thus +lost, that he could have no solace; and on the other hand, he was +so sore grieving for John his esquire whom he had so lost, that +marvel it was. And his lord was no less sad at heart for +his fair daughter whom he had thus lost, and of whom he might +have no tidings.</p> +<p>But dame Jehane, who was in the chamber of her cousin germain +for fifteen days in good ease, when she wotted that her lord had +vanquished the battle, was exceeding much at ease. Now she +had done make four pair of gowns, as is aforesaid, and she clad +her with the richest of them which was of silk bended of fine +gold of Araby. Moreover she was so fair of body and of +visage, and so dainty withal, that nought in the world might be +found fairer, so that her cousin germain all marvelled at her +great beauty. And she had been bathed, and attired and had +ease at all points for the fifteen days, so that she was come +into so great beauty as wonder was. Much fair was the Lady +Jehane in her gown of silk bended of gold. So she called +her cousin to her and said: “How deemest thou of +me?” “What, dame!” said her cousin, +“thou art the fairest lady of the world.” +“I shall tell thee, then, fair cousin, what thou shalt do: +go thou tell so much before my father as that he shall make dole +no more, but be glad and joyful, and that thou bearest him good +news of his daughter who is whole and well; and that he come with +thee and thou wilt show him. Then bring him hither, and +meseemeth he will see me with a good will.” The +damsel said that she would well do that errand and she came to +the father of the Lady Jehane, and said him what his daughter had +said. When her sire heard thereof great wonder he wist it, +and went with the damsel, and found his daughter in her chamber, +and knew her straightway, and put his arms about her neck, and +wept over her for joy and pity, and had so great joy that scarce +might he speak to her. Then he asked her where she had been +so long a while. “Fair father,” said she, +“thou shalt know it well anon. But a-God’s sake +do my lady mother to come to me, for I have great longing to see +her.” The lord sent for his wife, and when she came +into the chamber where was her daughter, and saw her and knew +her, she swooned for joy, and might not speak a great while, and +when she came out of her swooning none might believe the great +joy that she made of her daughter.</p> +<p>But whiles they were in this joy, the father of the fair lady +went to seek Sir Robin and bespake him thus: “Sir Robin, +fair sweet son, tidings can I say thee exceeding joyous us +between.” “Certes,” said Sir Robin, +“of joy have I great need, for none save God can set rede +to it whereby I may have joy. For I have lost thy fair +daughter, whereof have I sore grief at heart. And thereto +have I lost the swain and the squire, who of all in the world +hath done me most good; to wit, John the good, my +squire.” “Sir Robin,” said the lord, +“be ye nought dismayed thereof, for of squires thou shalt +find enough. But of my fair daughter I could tell thee good +tidings; for I have seen her e’en now; and, wot ye well, +she is the fairest lady that may be in the world.” +When Sir Robin heard that, he trembled all with joy and said to +his lord: “Ah, sir, for God’s sake bring me where I +may see if this be true!” “With a good +will,” said the lord; “come along now.”</p> +<p>The lord went before and he after, till I they were come to +the chamber, where the mother was yet making great feast of her +daughter, and they were weeping with joy one over the +other. But when they saw their rightful lords a-coming, +they rose up; and so soon as Sir Robin knew his wife, he ran to +her with his arms spread abroad, and they clipped and kissed +together dearly, and wept of joy and pity; and they were thus +embracing together for the space of the running of ten acres, or +ever they might sunder. Then the lord commanded the tables +to be laid for supper, and they supped and made great joy.</p> +<p>After supper, when the feast had been right great, they went +to bed, and Sir Robin lay that night with the Lady Jehane his +wife, who made him great joy, and he her in likewise; and they +spake together of many things, and so much that Sir Robin asked +of her where she had been; and she said: “Sir, long were it +to tell, but thou shalt know it well in time. Now tell to +me what thou couldest to do, and where thou hast been so long a +while.” “Lady,” said Sir Robin, +“that will I well tell thee.”</p> +<p>So he fell to telling her all that she well knew, and of John +his esquire, who had done him so much good, and said that he was +so troubled whereas he had thus lost him, that he would make +never an end of wandering till he had found him, and that he +would bestir himself thereto the morrow’s morn. +“Sir,” said the lady, “that were folly; and how +should it be then; wouldst thou leave me, then?” +“Forsooth, dame,” said he, “e’en so it +behoveth me. For none did ever so much for another as he +did for me.” “Sir,” said the dame, +“wherein he did for thee, he did but duly. Even so he +was bound to do.” “Dame,” said Sir Robin, +“by what thou sayest thou shouldst know him.” +“Forsooth,” said the lady, “I should ought to +know him well, for never did he anything whereof I wotted +not.” “Lady,” said Sir Robin, “thou +makest me to marvel at thy words.” “Sir,” +said the lady, “never marvel thou hereof! If I tell +thee a word for sooth and for certain, wilt thou not believe +me?” “Dame,” said he, “yea, +verily.”</p> +<p>“Well, then, believe me in this,” said she; +“for wot of a verity that I am the very same John whom thou +wouldest go seek, and I will tell thee how. For I knew that +thou wert gone for the great sorrow thou hadst for my misdoing +against thee, and for thy land which thou deemedst thou hadst +lost for ever. Whereas I had heard tell of the occasion of +the wager, and of the treason Sir Raoul had done, whereof I was +so wroth as never woman was more wroth. Straightway I let +shear my hair, and took the money in my coffer, about ten pounds +of Tournais, and arrayed me like an esquire, and followed thee +away to Paris, and found thee at the tomb of Ysore; and there I +fell into company with thee, and we went together into +Marseilles, and were there together seven years long, where I +served thee unto my power as my rightful lord, and I hold for +well spent all the service that I did thee. And know of a +truth that I am innocent and just of that which the evil knight +laid upon me; as well appeareth whereas he hath been shamed in +the field, and hath acknowledged the treason.”</p> +<p>Therewith my lady Jehane embraced Sir Robin, her lord, and +kissed him on the mouth right sweetly; for Sir Robin understood +well that it was she that had so well served him; and so great +joy he had, that none could say it or think it; and much he +wondered in his heart how she could think to do that which so +turned to her great goodness. Wherefore he loved her the +more all the days of his life.</p> +<p>Thus were these two good persons together; and they went to +dwell upon their land, which they had both wide and fair. +Good life they led as for young folk who loved dearly +together. Sir Robin went often to tournays with his lord, +of whose mesney he was, and much worship he won, and great prize +he conquered and great wealth, and did so much that he gat him as +much land again as he had had. And when the lord and his +lady were dead, then had he all the land. And he did so +well by his prowess that he was made a double banneret, and he +had well four thousand pounds of land. But never might he +have child by his wife, whereof he was much grieved. Thus +was he with his wife for ten years after he had conquered the +battle with Sir Raoul.</p> +<p>After the term of ten years, by the will of God, to whom we be +all subject, the pain of death took hold of him, and he died like +a valiant man, and had all his rights, and was laid in earth with +great worship. His wife the fair lady made so great sorrow +over him, that all they that saw her had pity of her; but in the +end needs must she forget her mourning and take comfort, for as +little as it were. Much abode the lady in her widowhood as +a good dame and a holy, for she loved much God and Holy +Church. She held her much humbly and much she loved the +poor, and did them much good, and was so good a lady that none +knew how to blame her or to say of her aught save great +good. Therewithal was she so fair, that each one said who +saw her, that she was the mirror of all ladies in the world for +beauty and goodness. But here leaveth the tale a little to +speak of her, and returneth to tell of the King Florus, of whom +it hath been silent a great while.</p> +<p>For saith the tale, that King Florus of Ausay was in his own +country sore grieving, and ill at ease for the departure of his +first wife. Notwithstanding the other was brought unto him, +and was both fair and dainty, but he could not hold her in his +heart like as he did the first one. Four years was he with +her, but never child might he have of her; and when the said time +was ended the pains of death took the a lady, and she was buried, +whereof her friends were sore grieving. But service was +done unto her, as was meet to a queen.</p> +<p>Then abode King Florus in widowhood more than two years, and +he was still a young man, whereas he was not of more than +five-and-forty winters, wherefore the barons said to him that he +behoved to marry again. “Forsooth,” said King +Florus, “so to do have I no great longing, for two wives +have I had, and never child might I have by either. And on +the other hand, the first that I had was so good and so fair, and +so much I loved her in my heart for the great beauty that was in +her, that I may not forget her. And I tell you well that +never woman will I wed but may have her as fair and as good as +was she. Now may God have mercy on her soul, for she hath +passed away in the abbey where she was, as folk have done me to +wit.” “Ha, sir,” said a knight, who was +of his privy counsel, “there be many good dames up and down +the country side, of whom ye know not all; and I know one who +hath not for goodness and beauty her peer in the world. And +if thou knew her goodness, and saw but her beauty, thou wouldst +say well that happy were the king who held the danger of such a +lady. And wot well that she is a gentle lady, and valiant, +and rich, and of great lands. And I will tell thee a part +of her goodness so please thee.”</p> +<p>So the king said that he would well he should tell him. +Wherefore the knight fell to telling how she had bestirred her to +go seek her lord, and how she found him and brought him to +Marseilles, and the great goodness and great services which she +did him, even as the tale hath told afore, so that King Florus +wondered much thereat; and he said to the knight privily that +such a woman he would take with a good will.</p> +<p>“Sir,” said the knight, who was of the country of +the lady, “I will go to her, if it please thee, and I will +so speak to her, if I may, that the marriage of you two shall be +made.” “Yea,” said King Florus, “I +will well that thou go, and I pray thee to give good heed to the +business.”</p> +<p>So the knight bestirred him, and went so much by his journeys +that he came to the country where dwelt the fair dame, whom the +tale calleth my Lady Jehane, and found her abiding at a castle of +hers, and she made him great joy, as one whom she knew. The +knight drew her to privy talk, and told her of King Florus of +Ausay, how he bade her come unto him that he might take her to +wife. When the lady heard the knight so speak, she began to +smile, which beseemed her right well, and she said to the knight: +“Thy king is neither so well learned, nor so courteous as I +had deemed, whereas he biddeth me come to him and he will take me +to wife: forsooth, I am no wageling of him to go at his +command. But say to thy king, that, so please him, he come +to me, if he prize me so much and loveth me, and it seem good to +him that I take him to husband and spouse, for the lords ought to +beseech the ladies, and not ladies the lords.” +“Lady,” said the knight, “all that thou hast +said to me, I will tell him straight; but I doubt that he hold +not with pride.” “Sir knight,” said the +lady, “he shall take what heed thereof may please him but +in the matter whereof I have spoken to thee, he hath neither +courtesy nor reason.” “Lady,” said the +knight, “so be it, a-God’s name! And I will get +me gone, with thy leave, to my lord the king, and will tell him +what thou hast told me. And if thou wilt give me any word +more, now tell it me.” “Yea,” said the +lady, “tell him that I send him greeting, and that I can +him much good will for the honour he biddeth me.”</p> +<p>So the knight departed therewith from the lady, and came the +fourth day thereafter to King Florus of Ausay, and found him in +his chamber, whereas he was speaking with his privy +counsel. The knight greeted the king, who returned the +greeting, and made him sit by his side, and asked tidings of the +fair lady, and he told all her message how she would not come to +him, whereas she was not his wageling to come at his command: for +that lords are bound to beseech ladies how she had given him word +that she sent him greeting, and could him goodwill for the honour +he bade her. When the King Florus had heard these words, he +fell a-pondering, and spake no word for a great while.</p> +<p>“Sir,” said a knight who was of his most privity, +“what ponderest thou so much? Forsooth, all these +words well befit a good lady and wise to say; and so, may help me +God, she is both wise and valiant. Wherefore I counsel thee +in good faith that thou look to a day when thou canst be there; +that thou send greeting to her that thou wilt be there on such +day to do her honour, and take her to wife.” +“Forsooth,” said King Florus, “I will send word +that I will be there in the month of Paske, and that she apparel +her to receive such a man as I be.” Then said King +Florus to the knight who had been to the lady, that within three +days he should go his ways to tell the lady these tidings. +So on the third day the knight departed, and went so much that he +came to the lady, and said that the king sent word that he would +be with her in the month of Paske; and she answered that it was +so by God’s will, and that she would speak with her +friends, and that she would be arrayed to do his will as the +honour of a good lady called on her. After these words +departed the knight, and came to his lord King Florus, and told +him the answer of the fair lady, as ye have heard it. So +King Florus of Ausay dight his departure, and went his ways with +a right great folk to come to the country of the fair lady; and +when he was come thither, he took her and wedded her, and had +great joy and great feast thereof. Then he led her into his +country where folk made exceeding great joy of her. But +King Florus loved her much for her great beauty, and for the +great wit and great valiancy that was in her.</p> +<p>And within the year that he had taken her to wife, she was big +with child, and she bore the fruit of her belly so long as right +was, and was delivered of a daughter first, and of a son +thereafter, who had to name Florence and the daughter had to name +Floria. And the child Florence was exceeding fair, and when +he was a knight he was the best that knew arms in his time, so +that he was chosen to be Emperor of Constantinople. A much +valiant man was he, and wrought much wrack and dole on the +Saracens. But the daughter became queen of the land of her +father, and the son of the King of Hungary took her to wife, and +lady she was of two realms.</p> +<p>This great honour gave God to the fair lady for the goodness +of her and her loyalty. A great while abode King Florus +with that fair lady; and when it pleased God that his time came, +he had such goodly knowledge that God had in him a fair +soul. Thereafter the lady lived but a half year, and passed +away from the world as one good and loyal, and had fair end and +good knowledge.</p> +<p>Here endeth the tale of King Florus and the Fair Jehane.</p> +<h2><a name="page117"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 117</span>The +History of Over Sea</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">In</span> years bygone was a Count of +Ponthieu, who loved much chivalry and the world, and was a much +valiant man and a good knight.</p> +<p>In the same times was a Count of St. Pol, who held all the +country, and was lord thereof, and a man much valiant. He +had no heir of his flesh, whereof he was sore grieving; but a +sister he had, a much good dame, and a valiant woman of much +avail, who was Dame of Dontmart in Ponthieu. The said dame +had a son, Thibault by name, who was heir of the country of St. +Pol, but a poor man so long as his uncle lived; he was a brave +knight and a valiant, and good at arms: noble he was, and goodly, +and was much honoured and loved of good folk; for a high man he +was, and gentle of blood.</p> +<p>Now the Count of Ponthieu, with whom beginneth this tale, had +a wife, a much good dame: of the said dame he had a daughter, +much good and of much avail, the which waxed in great beauty and +multiplied in much good; and she was of well sixteen years of +age. But within the third year of her birth, her mother +died, whereof sore troubled she was and much sorrowful.</p> +<p>The Count, her father, wedded him right speedily thereafter, +and took a high lady and a gentle; and in a little while the +Count had of the said lady a son, whom he loved much. The +said son waxed in great worth and in great goodness, and +multiplied in great good.</p> +<p>The Count of Ponthieu, who was a valiant man, saw my lord +Thibault of Dontmart, and summoned him, and retained him of his +meney; and when he had him of his meney he was much joyous +thereat, for the Count multiplied in great good and in great +avail by means of him.</p> +<p>As they returned from a tournament, the Count called to him +Messire Thibault, and asked of him and said: “Thibault, as +God may help thee, tell me what jewel of my land thou lovest the +best?” “Sir,” said Messire Thibault, +“I am but a poor man, but, as God may help me, of all the +jewels of thy land I love none so much as my damosel, thy +daughter.” The Count, when he heard that, was much +merry and joyful in his heart, and said: “Thibault, I will +give her to thee if she will.” “Sir,” +said he, “much great thank have thou; God reward +thee.”</p> +<p>Then went the Count to his daughter, and said to her: +“Fair daughter, I have married thee, save by thee be any +hindrance.” “Sir,” said she, “unto +whom?” “A-God’s name,” said he, +“to a much valiant man, of much avail: to a knight of mine, +who hath to name Thibault of Dontmart.” +“Ha,” sir, said she, “if thy country were a +kingdom, and should come to me all wholly, forsooth I should hold +me right well wedded in him.” “Daughter,” +said the Count, “blessed be thine heart, and the hour +wherein thou wert born.”</p> +<p>So the wedding was done; the Count of Ponthieu and the Count +of St. Pol were thereat, and many another good valiant man. +With great joy were they assembled, in great lordship and in +great mirth: and in great joy dwelt those together for five +years. But it pleased not our Lord Jesus Christ that they +should have an heir of their flesh, which was a heavy matter to +both of them.</p> +<p>On a night lay Messire Thibault in his bed and pondered sore, +and said: “God! of whom it cometh that I love so much this +dame, and she me, and forsooth no heir of our flesh may we have, +whereby God might be served, and good be done to the +world.” Therewith he thought on my lord St. Jakeme, +the apostle of Galicia, who would give to such as crave aright +that which by right they crave, and he behight him the road +thither in his heart.</p> +<p>The dame was a-sleeping yet, and whenas she awoke he held her +betwixt his arms, and prayed her that she would give him a +gift. “Sir,” said the dame, “and what +gift?” “Dame,” said he, “thou shalt +wot that when I have it.” “Sir,” she +said, “if I may give it, I will give it, whatso it may +be.” “Dame,” he said, “I crave +leave of thee to go to my lord St. Jacque the Apostle, that he +may pray our Lord Jesus Christ to give us an heir of our flesh, +whereby God may be served in this world, and the Holy Church +refreshed.” “Sir,” said the dame, +“the gift is full courteous, and much debonairly will I +grant it thee.”</p> +<p>In much great joy were they for long while: wore one day, and +another, and a third; and it befell that they lay together in bed +on a night, and then said the dame: “Sir, I pray and +require of thee a gift.” “Dame,” said he, +“ask, and I will give it, if give it I may.” +“Sir,” she said, “I crave leave of thee to go +with thee on thy journey.”</p> +<p>When Messire Thibault heard that, he was much sorrowful, and +said: “Dame, grievous thing would it be to thine heart, for +the way is much longsome, and the land is much strange and much +diverse.” She said: “Sir, doubt thou nought of +me, for of such littlest squire that thou hast, shalt thou be +more hindered than of me.” “Dame,” said +he, “a-God’s name, I grant it thee.”</p> +<p>Day came, and the tidings ran so far till the Count of +Ponthieu knew it, and sent for Messire Thibault, and said: +“Thibault, thou art vowed a pilgrim, as they tell me, and +my daughter also?” “Sir,” said he, +“that is sooth.” “Thibault,” said +the Count, “concerning thee it is well, but concerning my +daughter it is heavy on me.” “Sir,” said +Messire Thibault, “I might not naysay her.” +“Thibault,” said the Count, “bestir ye when ye +will; so hasten ye your palfreys, your nags, and your +sumpter-beasts; and I will give you pennies and havings +enow.” “Sir,” said Messire Thibault, +“great thank I give thee.”</p> +<p>So then they arrayed them, and departed with great joy; and +they went so far by their journeys, that they drew nigh to St. +Jacque by less than two days.</p> +<p>On a night they came to a good town, and in the evening +Messire Thibault called his host, and asked him concerning the +road for the morrow, what road they should find, and what like it +might be; and he said to him: “Fair sir, at the going forth +from this town ye shall find somewhat of a forest to pass +through, and all the day after a good road.” +Therewith they held their peace, and the bed was apparelled, and +they went to rest.</p> +<p>The morrow was much fair, and the pilgrims rose up at daybreak +and made noise. Messire Thibault arose, and found him +somewhat heavy, wherefore he called his chamberlain, and said: +“Arise now, and do our meyney to truss and go their ways, +and thou shalt abide with me and truss our harness: for I am +somewhat heavy and ill at ease.” So that one +commanded the sergeants the pleasure of their lord, and they went +their ways.</p> +<p>But a little while was ere Messire Thibault and his wife arose +and arrayed them, and got to the road. The chamberlain +trussed their bed, and it was not full day, but much fair +weather. They issued out of the town, they three, without +more company but only God, and drew nigh to the forest; and +whenas they came thither, they found two ways, one good, and the +other bad. Then Messire Thibault said to his chamberlain: +“Prick spur now, and come up with our folk, and bid them +abide us, for ugly thing it is for a dame and a knight to wend +the wild-wood with little company.”</p> +<p>So the chamberlain went his ways speedily; and Messire +Thibault came into the forest, and came on the sundering ways, +and knew not by which to wend. So he said: “Dame, by +which way go we?” “Sir,” said she, +“by the good way, so please God.”</p> +<p>But in this forest were certain strong-thieves, who wasted the +good way, and made the false way wide and side, and like unto the +other, for to make pilgrims go astray. So Messire Thibault +lighted down, and looked on the way, and found the false way +bigger and wider than the good; so he said: “Come dame, +a-God’s name, this is it.” So they entered +therein, and went a good quarter of a league, and then began the +way to wax strait, and the boughs to hang alow; so he said: +“Dame, meseemeth that we go not well.”</p> +<p>When he had so said, he looked before him, and saw four +strong-thieves armed, upon four big horses, and each one held +spear in hand. And when he beheld them, he looked behind +him, and saw other four in other fashion armed and arrayed; and +he said: “Dame, be not abashed at anything thou mayst see +now from henceforward.” Then Messire Thibault greeted +those first come, but they held them all aloof from his +greeting. So thereafter he asked them what was their will +toward him; and one thereof said: “That same shall we tell +thee anon.”</p> +<p>Therewith the strong thief came against Messire Thibault with +glaive in rest, and thought to smite him amidst of the body; and +Messire Thibault saw the stroke a-coming, and if he doubted +thereof, no marvel was it; but he swerved from the stroke as best +he might, and that one missed him; and as he passed by him +Messire Thibault threw himself under the glaive, and took it from +the strong thief, and bestirred him against those three whence +that one was come, and smote one of them amidst the body, and +slew him; and thereafter turned about, and went back, and smote +him who had first come on him amidst of the body, and slew +him.</p> +<p>Now it pleased God that of the eight strong-thieves he slew +three, and the other five encompassed him, and slew his palfrey, +so that he fell adown on his back without any wound to grieve +him: he had neither sword nor any other armour to help him. +So the strong-thieves took his raiment from him, all to his +shirt, and his spurs and shoon; and then they took a sword-belt, +and bound his hands and his feet, and cast him into a +bramble-bush much sharp and much rough.</p> +<p>And when they had thus done, they came to the Lady, and took +from her her palfrey and all her raiment, right to her smock; and +she was much fair, and she was weeping tenderly, and much and of +great manner was she sorrowful.</p> +<p>Then one of the strong-thieves beheld her, and said thus to +his fellows: “Masters, I have lost my brother in this +stour, therefore will I have this Lady in atonement +thereof.” Another said: “But I also, I have +lost my cousin-german; therefore I claim as much as thou herein: +yea, and another such right have I.” And even in such +wise said the third and the fourth and the fifth; but at last +said one: “In the holding of this Lady ye have no great +getting nor gain; so let us lead her into the forest here, and do +our will on her, and then set her on the road again and let her +go.” So did they even as they had devised, and set +her on the road again.</p> +<p>Messire Thibault saw it well, and much sorrowful he was, but +nought might he do against it; nor none ill will had he against +the Lady for that which had befallen her; for he wotted well that +it had been perforce and against the will of her. The Lady +was much sorrowful, and all ashamed. So Messire Thibault +called to her and said: “Dame, for God’s sake come +hither and unbind me, and deliver me from the grief wherein I am; +for these brambles grieve me sore and anguish me.”</p> +<p>So the Lady went whereas lay Messire Thibault, and espied a +sword lying behind there of one of the strong-thieves who had +been slain. So she took it, and went toward her lord, full +of great ire and evil will of that which was befallen. For +she doubted much that he would have her in despite for that he +had seen her thus, and that he would reprove her one while and +lay before her what had her betid. She said: “Sir, I +will deliver thee anon.”</p> +<p>Therewith she hove up the sword and came to her lord, and +thought to smite him amidst of the body; and when he saw the +stroke coming he doubted it much, for he was all naked to his +shirt and breeches, and no more. Therefore so hardly he +quaked, that the hands and the fingers of him; were sundered; and +in such wise she smote him that she but hurt him a little, and +sheared the thongs wherewith he was bound; and when he felt the +bonds slacken, he drew to him and brake the thongs, and leapt to +his feet, and said: “Dame, so please God, no more to-day +shalt thou slay me.” But she said: “Of a +surety, sir, I am heavy thereof.”</p> +<p>He took the sword of her, and put it back into the scabbard, +and thereafter laid his hand on her shoulder, and brought her +back on the road whereby they had come. And when he came to +the entry of the wood, there found he a great part of his +company, which was come to meet him and when they saw them thus +naked, they asked of him: “Sir, who hath thus arrayed +you?” But he told them that they had fallen in with +strong-thieves, who had thus ensnared them. Much great dole +they made thereof; but speedily were they clad and arrayed, for +they had well enough thereto so they gat to horse and went their +ways.</p> +<p>That day they rode, and for nought that had befallen Messire +Thibault made no worser semblance unto the Lady. That night +they came unto a good town, and there they harboured. +Messire Thibault asked of his host if there were any house of +religion anigh thereto, where one might leave a lady, and the +host said: “Sir, it befalleth well to thee; hard by without +is a house much religious and of much good dames.”</p> +<p>Wore the night, and Messire Thibault went on the morrow into +that house and heard mass, and thereafter spake to the abbess, +and the convent, and prayed them that they would guard that Lady +there till his coming back; and they granted it to him much +willingly. Messire Thibault left of his meney there to +serve the Lady, and went his ways, and did his pilgrimage the +best he might. And when he had done his pilgrimage fair and +well, he returned, and came to the Lady. He did good to the +house, and gave thereto of his havings, and took the Lady unto +him again, and led her into his country with as much great honour +as he had led her away, save the lying a-bed with her.</p> +<p>When he was gotten aback into his land, much great joy did +they make of him, and of the Lady. At his homecoming was +the Count of Ponthieu, the father of the Lady, and there also was +the Count of St. Pol, who was uncle unto my lord Thibault. +A many was there of good folk and valiant at their coming. +The Lady was much honoured of dames and of damsels.</p> +<p>That day the Count of Ponthieu sat, he and Messire Thibault, +they two together, at one dish, and so it fell out that the Count +said to him: “Thibault, fair son, he who long way wendeth +heareth much, and seeth of adventures, whereof nought they know +who stir not; tell me tale, then, if it please thee, of some +matter which thou hast seen, or heard tell of, since ye departed +hence.”</p> +<p>Messire Thibault answered him that he knew of no adventure to +tell of; but the Count prayed him again, and tormented him +thereto, and held him sore to tell of some adventure, insomuch +that Messire Thibault answered him: “Sir, since tell I +needs must, I will tell thee; but so please thee, let it not be +within earshot of so much folk.” The Count answered +and said that it so pleased him well. So after dinner, +whenas they had eaten, the Count arose and took Messire Thibault +by the hand, and said to him: “Now would I that thou say +thy pleasure, for here is not a many of folk.”</p> +<p>And Messire Thibault fell to telling how that it had betid to +a knight and a lady, even as ye have heard in the tale told; but +he told not the persons unto whom it had befallen: and the Count, +who was much sage and right thoughtful, asked what the knight had +done with the Lady; and he answered that the knight had brought +and led the Lady back to her own country, with as much great joy +and as much great honour as he had led her thence, save lying in +the bed whereas lay the Lady.</p> +<p>“Thibault,” said the Count, “otherwise +deemed the knight than I had deemed; for by the faith which I owe +unto God, and unto thee, whom much I love, I would have hung the +Lady by the tresses to a tree or to a bush, or by the very +girdle, if none other cord I might find.” +“Sir,” said Messire Thibault, “nought so +certain is the thing as it will be if the Lady shall bear witness +thereto with her very body.” “Thibault,” +said the Count, “knowest thou who was the +knight?” “Sir,” said Messire Thibault, +“yet again I pray thee that thou acquit me of naming the +knight to whom this adventure betid: know of a verity that in +naming him lieth no great gain.” +“Thibault,” said the Count, “know that it is +not my pleasure that thou hide it.” +“Sir,” said Thibault, “then will I tell the +same, since I may not be acquitted thereof, as willingly I would +be if it were your pleasure; for in telling thereof lieth not +great avail, nor great honour.” +“Thibault,” said the Count, “since the word has +gone so far, know that I would wot straightway who was the knight +unto whom this adventure betid; and I conjure thee, by the faith +which thou owest to God and to me, that thou tell me who was the +knight, since thou knowest thereof.”</p> +<p>“Sir,” said Messire Thibault, “by that +wherewith thou hast conjured me withal, I will tell thee. +And I would well that thou shalt know of a verity that I am the +knight unto whom this adventure betid. And wot thou that I +was sore grieving and abashed in my heart; and wot thou well that +never erst have I spoken thereof to any man alive; and, moreover, +with a good will had I put aside the telling of it, if it had but +pleased thee.”</p> +<p>But when the Count had heard tell this adventure, much +grieving was he, and abashed, and held his peace a great while, +and spake no word; and when he spoke, he said: “Thibault, +then to my daughter it was that this adventure +betid?” “Sir,” said he, “of a +verity.” “Thibault,” said the Count, +“well shalt thou be avenged, since thou hast brought her +back to me.”</p> +<p>And because of the great ire which the Count had, he called +for his daughter, and asked of her if that were true which +Messire Thibault had said; and she asked, “What?” and +he answered: “This, that thou wouldest have slain him, even +as he hath told it?” “Sir,” she said, +“yea.” “And wherefore,” said the +Count, “wouldst thou have done it?” +“Sir,” said she, “hereto, for that yet it +grieveth me that I did it not, and that I slew him +not.”</p> +<p>So the Count let all that be, and abode till the Court was +departed. Thereafter was he at Rue-on-Sea, and Messire +Thibault with him, and the son of the Count; and the Count let +lead with him the Lady. Then the Count let array a strong +craft and a trim, and did do the Lady enter therein; and withal +let lay therein a tun, all new, strong, and great, and +thick. Then they entered into the said ship, all three, +without fellowship of other folk, save the mariners who rowed the +ship. Then did the Count cause them to row a full two +leagues out to sea; and much marvelled each one of what he +thought to do, but none durst ask him.</p> +<p>But when they were so far forth in the sea as ye have heard, +the Count let smite out one head of the tun, and took the Lady, +who was his daughter, and who was much fair and well attired, and +made her to enter in the tun, would she, would she not; and then +let head up the tun again straightway, and dight it well, and let +redo the staves, and stop it well, that the water might not enter +in no manner. Then the Count let put it overboard the ship, +and he laid hand thereto with his very own body, and thrust the +tun into the sea, and said: “I commend thee unto the winds +and the waves.”</p> +<p>Much grieving was Messire Thibault thereat, and the brother of +the Lady withal; yea, and all they that saw the same; and they +fell all at the feet of the Count, and prayed him mercy, that +from out of that tun they might take her and deliver her. +But the Count, who was much wroth and full of ire, would not +grant it them for any thing that they might do or pray. So +they let it be, and prayed to Jesus Christ, the Sovereign Father, +that he, of his exceeding great goodness, would have pity of her +soul, and do her pardon of her sins.</p> +<p>Thus have they left the Lady in great mischief and great +peril, even as ye have heard the tale tell afore, and thus they +returned thence. But our Lord Jesus Christ, who is the +Sovereign Father of us all, and who willeth not the death of +sinners, be they he or she, but that they may turn them from +their sins and live (every day he showeth it unto us openly by +works, by examples, and by miracles), sent succour unto the Lady, +even as ye may hear further on.</p> +<p>For the history testifieth us, and telleth of a verity, that a +merchant ship which came from the parts of Flanders, before the +Count and his fellows were well come aland, saw the tun floating +even as the winds and waves led it. So said one of the +merchants to his fellows: “Masters, lo there a tun, and it +shall come our way, meseemeth; and if we draw it aboard, well +shall we have some avail of it in any case.”</p> +<p>Now know ye that this ship was wont to go to the Land of the +Saracens for cheaping. So the mariners drew thither where +was the tun, and did so much, what by wile, what by force, that +they gat the tun on to their ship. And when the tun was +laid on their ship, they looked much thereon, and much marvelled +what it might be; and so much, that they beheld how one of the +heads of the said tun was newly arrayed. Wherefore they +unheaded it, and found the Lady therein, in such case as though +her hour were waning, for air failed her. Her body was big, +her visage all swollen, and her eyes ugly and troubled. But +when she saw the air, and felt the wind, she sighed a little, and +the merchants stood about her and called unto her, but she had no +might to speak. But at last the heart came aback to her, +and speech withal, and she spoke to the merchants and other folk +whom she saw around her; and much she marvelled when she found +herself in such wise amidst of the merchants; but when she saw of +them that they were Christians and merchants, the more at ease +she was, and much she praised Jesus Christ therefor in her heart, +and thanked him of his goodness, whereas he had so done by her +that she yet had a space of life. For she had much great +devotion in her heart, and much great desire to amend her life +toward God, and toward others, of the misdeeds she had done, +whereof she doubted mightily.</p> +<p>The merchants asked her of whence she was, and she hid the +matter from them, and said that a wretched thing she was, and a +poor sinner, even as they might behold; and that by much cruel +adventure was she thither come; and for God’s sake let them +have mercy upon her: and they answered that even so would +they. And she ate and drank, and became much fair.</p> +<p>Now so far went the ship of the merchants, that they came to +the Land of the Saracens, and took haven by Aumarie. +Galleys of the Saracens came to meet them, and they answered that +they were merchants who led divers merchandise by many lands; and +that they had the safe-conduct of princes and high barons, and +that they might go into all lands surely, to seek chaffer and +lead their goods.</p> +<p>So they brought the Lady aland, and were with her. And +one asked the other what they should do with her; and one said +that they should sell her; and another said: “If I may be +trowed, we shall give her as a gift to the rich Soudan of +Aumarie, and then will our matter be mightily amended.”</p> +<p>Thereto they accorded all, and they took the Lady and brought +her to the Soudan, who was a young man: but first they did do +attire and array the Lady much richly, and so gave her to the +Soudan, who received the Lady much joyously and with much +good-will, for right fair was she. The Soudan asked of them +what she was, and they said: “Sir, we wot not; but by +marvellous adventure did we find her.”</p> +<p>Much good-will had the Soudan to them of this gift, and much +good he did to them therefor. Much he loved the Lady +withal, and he let serve her honourably. Well was she +heeded, and the colour came again unto her, and she became +marvellous fair.</p> +<p>The Soudan fell to coveting the Lady and to loving of her; and +he let ask her by Latiners of what folk she was, but no sooth +thereof would she tell him or let him know. Thereof was he +heavy, whereas he saw of her that she was a high woman, and of +gentle lineage. He let ask of her if she were Christian, +and that if she would leave her law he would take her to wife, +for no wife had he as yet. She saw well that better it were +to come thereto by love than by force, so she answered that so +would she do of a good will; and when she had renied her, and had +left her law, the Soudan took her to wife according to the manner +and wont of the Land of the Saracens. He held her right +dear, and honoured her much, and waxed of great love towards +her.</p> +<p>But a little while was she with the Soudan ere she was big of +a son, and lay in at her time; the Soudan was right glad, and +made much great joy. And the dame was ever of good +fellowship with the folk, and much courteous and of good will +toward them, and learnt so much that she knew the Saracen +tongue.</p> +<p>But a little while wore in the years whereas she had the son, +ere she conceived and had a daughter, who anon became much fair +and much wise, and in all lordliness she let nourish her. +Thus was the Lady abiding a two years in much joy and mirth.</p> +<p>But now the story leaves telling of the Lady and the Soudan +till after, as ye shall come to hear, and returneth to the Count +of Ponthieu, and to the son of the Count, and to Messire Thibault +of Dontmart, who were sore grieving for the Lady who had been +thuswise cast into the sea, even as ye have heard, and knew no +tidings of her, what was become of her, and trowed more that she +were dead than alive.</p> +<p>Now saith the history, and the sooth beareth witness thereto, +that the Count was in Ponthieu, and his son, and Messire +Thibault. The Count was in sore great sadness, and heavy +thought of his daughter, and much he doubted him of the sin which +he had done. Messire Thibault durst not to wed him; nor did +the son of the Count either, because of the dolour wherein he saw +his friends abiding. Neither would the son of the Count +become knight, though he were well of an age thereto, had he the +will.</p> +<p>On a day the Count forthought him much of the sin which he had +done to his daughter, and he betook him to the Archbishop of +Rheims and confessed to him, and said to him all the deed, as he +had done it. He took the cross of Over Sea, and crossed +him. And whenas Messire Thibault saw his lord the Count +crossed, he confessed him and crossed him withal. Likewise, +when the son of the Count saw his father crossed, and Messire +Thibault also, whom he loved much, he also crossed himself. +And when the Count saw his son crossed, he was much grieved, and +said: “Fair son, wherefore art thou crossed? Now +shall the land abide void of lord.” But the son +answered and said: “Father, I am crossed for God’s +sake first before all things, and for the saving of my soul, and +to serve God and honour him to my power, so long as I shall have +the life in my body.”</p> +<p>So the Count arrayed him speedily and bestirred him, and went +and took leave; but withal he looked to it who should ward his +land. And Messire Thibault and the son of the Count dight +their matters, and they took to the way with much great +safe-conduct. They came in the Land of Over Sea safe of +body and havings, and there they did their pilgrimage much holily +in all the places whereas they wotted that it ought to be done, +and God to be served.</p> +<p>And when the Count had so done, he bethought him that he would +well to do yet more: so he gave himself to the service of the +Temple for one year, him and his company; and then when it came +to the end of the year, deemed that he would go visit his land +and his country. Wherefore he sent unto Acre and let array +his journey, and he took leave of them of the Temple, and of the +land, and much they thanked him for the honour which he had +brought them. He came to Acre with his fellows, and they +went aboard ship, and departed from the haven with right good +wind at will; but it endured but for a little; for when they were +on the high sea, then did a wind mighty and horrible fall upon +them unawares; and the mariners knew not whitherward they went, +and every hour they looked to be drowned; and so great was their +distress that they bound themselves together, the son to the +father, the nephew to the uncle, yea, one to the other, even as +they were intermingled. The Count and his son and Messire +Thibault bound themselves together so that they might not +sunder.</p> +<p>But a little way had they gone in this wise ere they saw land; +and they asked the mariners what land it was, and they answered +that it was the Land of the Saracens; and they called it the Land +of Aumarie, and said unto the Count: “Sir, what is thy +pleasure that we do? for if we go yonder, we shall be all taken +and fall into the hands of the Saracens.” The Count +said to them: “Let go according to the will of Jesus +Christ, who shall take heed to our bodies and our lives; for of +an eviller or uglier death we may not die than to die in this +sea.”</p> +<p>So they let run along Aumarie, and galleys and craft of the +Saracens came against them. Wot ye well that this was an +evil meeting; for they took them and brought them before the +Soudan, who was lord of that land and country. So they made +him a present of the Christians and of all their havings: the +Soudan departed them, and sent them to divers places of his +prisons. The Count of Ponthieu and his son and Messire +Thibault were so strongly bound together that they might not be +sundered. The Soudan commanded that they should be laid in +a prison by themselves, where they should have but little to eat +and little to drink; and it was done even as he commanded. +There were they a while of time in great misease, and so long +that the son of the Count was much sick, insomuch that the Count +and Messire Thibault had fear of his dying.</p> +<p>Thereafter it fell out that the Soudan held court much +mightily, and made great joy for his birthday; and this was after +the custom of the Saracens.</p> +<p>After dinner came the Saracens unto the Soudan, and said to +him: “Sir, we require of thee our right.” He +asked them what it was, and they said: “Sir, a captive +Christian to set up at the butts.” So he granted it +to them whereas it was a matter of nought, and he said to them: +“Go ye to the gaol, and take him who has the least of life +in him.”</p> +<p>To the gaol they went, and drew out the Count, all bedone with +a thick beard; and when the Soudan saw him in so poor estate, he +said to them: “This one hath little might to live; go ye, +lead him hence, and do ye your will on him.”</p> +<p>The wife of the Soudan, of whom ye have heard, who was +daughter of the Count, was in the place whereas the Count who was +her father was being led to the death, and so soon as she saw +him, the blood and the heart was stirred within her, not so much +for that she knew him, but rather that nature constrained +her. Then said the Lady to the Soudan: “Sir, I am +French, wherefore I would willingly speak to yonder poor man +before he dieth, if it please thee.” “Yea, +dame,” said the Soudan, “it pleaseth me +well.”</p> +<p>So the Lady came to the Count, and drew him apart, and caused +the Saracens to draw aback, and asked him of whence he was, and +he said: “Lady, I am of the kingdom of France, of a land +which is called Ponthieu.”</p> +<p>When the Lady heard that, all the blood of her stirred within +her, and straightway she asked of what kindred he was. +“Certes, dame,” said he, “it may not import to +me of what kin I be, for I have suffered so many pains and griefs +since I departed, that I love better to die than to live; but so +much can I tell thee of a sooth, that I was the Count of +Ponthieu.”</p> +<p>When the Lady heard that, she made no semblance, but forthwith +departed from the Count and came to the Soudan, and said: +“Sir, give me this captive, if it please thee, for he +knoweth the chess and the tables, and fair tales withal, which +shall please thee much; and he shall play before thee and learn +thee.” “Dame,” said the Soudan, “by +my law, wot that with a good will I will give him thee; do with +him as thou wilt.”</p> +<p>Then the Lady took him and sent him into her chamber, and the +jailers went to seek another, and led out Messire Thibault, who +was the husband of the Lady; and in sorry raiment was he, for he +was dight with long hair, and had a great beard; he was lean and +fleshless, as one who had suffered pain and dolour enough. +When the Lady saw him, she said unto the Soudan: “Sir, +again with this one would I willingly speak, if it please +thee.” “Dame,” said the Soudan, “it +pleaseth me well.” So the Lady came to Messire +Thibault, and asked him of whence he was, and he said: “I +am of the land of the old warrior whom they led before thee +e’en now: and I had his daughter to wife; and I am a +knight.”</p> +<p>The Lady knew well her lord, so she went back unto the Soudan, +and said to him: “Sir, great goodness wilt thou do unto me +if thou wilt give me this one also.” +“Dame,” said he, “with a good will I will give +him to thee.” So she thanked him, and sent him into +her chamber with the other.</p> +<p>But the archers hastened and came to the Soudan, and said: +“Sir, thou doest us wrong, and the day is +a-waning.” And therewith they went to the gaol and +brought out the son of the Count, who was all covered with his +hair and dishevelled, as one who had not been washen a +while. Young man he was, so that he had not yet a beard; +but so lean he was, and so sick and feeble, that scarce might he +hold him up. And when the Lady saw him, she had of him much +great pity. She came to him and asked of him whose son, and +whence he was, and he said he was the son of the first +worthy. Then she wotted well that he was her brother, but +no semblance she made thereof.</p> +<p>“Sir, certes,” said she to the Soudan, “thou +wilt now do me great goodness if thou wilt give me this one also; +for he knows the chess and the tables, and all other games, which +much shall please thee to see and to hear.” But the +Soudan said: “Dame, by my law, were there an hundred of +them I would give them unto thee willingly.”</p> +<p>The Lady thanked him much, and took her brother, and sent him +straightway into her chamber. But the folk betook them anew +to the gaol, and brought forth another; and the Lady departed +thence, whereas she knew him not. So was he led to his +martyrdom, and our Lord Jesus Christ received his soul. But +the Lady went her ways forthwith; for it pleased her not, the +martyrdoms which the Saracens did on the Christians.</p> +<p>She came to her chamber wherein were the prisoners, and when +they saw her coming, they made as they would rise up, but she +made sign to them to hold them still. Then she went close +up to them, and made them sign of friendship. And the +Count, who was right sage, asked thereon: “Dame, when shall +they slay us?” And she answered that it would not be +yet. “Dame,” said they, “thereof are we +heavy; for we have so great hunger, that it lacketh but a little +of our hearts departing from us.”</p> +<p>Thereat she went forth and let array meat; and then she +brought it, and gave to each one a little, and a little of +drink. And when they had taken it, then had they yet +greater hunger than afore. Thuswise she gave them to eat, +ten times the day, by little and little; for she doubted that if +they ate all freely, that they would take so much as would grieve +them. Wherefore she did them to eat thus attemperly.</p> +<p>Thuswise did the good dame give them might again; and they +were before her all the first seven days, and the night-tide she +did them to lie at their ease; and she did them do off their evil +raiment and let give them good and new. After the eighth +day, she had strengthened them little by little and more and +more; and then she let bring them victuals and drink to their +contentment, and in such wise that they were so strong that she +abandoned to them the victual and the drink withal. They +had chequers and tables, and played thereon, and were in all +content. The Soudan was ofttimes with them, and good will +he had to see them play, and much it pleased him. But the +dame refrained her sagely toward them, so that never was one of +them that knew her, neither by word nor deed of hers.</p> +<p>But a little while wore after this matter, as telleth the +tale, ere the Soudan had to do, for a rich soudan, who marched on +him, laid waste his land, and fell to harrying him. And he, +to avenge his trouble, summoned folk from every part, and +assembled a great host. When the Lady knew thereof she came +into the chamber whereas were the prisoners, and she sat down +before them, and spoke to them, and said: “Lords, ye have +told me of your matters a deal; now would I wot whether that +which ye have told me be true or not: for ye told me that thou +wert Count of Ponthieu on the day that thou departedst therefrom, +and that that man had had thy daughter to wife, and that the +other one was thy son. Now, I am Saracen, and know the art +of astronomy: wherefore I tell you well, that never were ye so +nigh to a shameful death as now ye be, if ye tell me not the +truth. Thy daughter, whom this knight had, what became of +her?”</p> +<p>“Lady,” said the Count, “I trow that she be +dead.” “What wise died she?” quoth +she. “Certes, Lady,” said the Count, “by +an occasion which she had deserved.” “And what +was the occasion?” said the Lady.</p> +<p>Then the Count fell to tell, sore weeping, how she was wedded, +and of the tarrying, whereby she might not have a child; and how +the good knight promised his ways to St. Jakeme in Galicia, and +how the Lady besought him that she might go along with him, and +he granted it willingly. And how they bestirred them with +great joy, and went their ways, and so far that they came unto a +place where they were without company. Then met they in a +forest robbers well armed, who fell upon them. The good +knight might do nothing against all them, for he was lacking of +arms; but amidst all that he slew three, and five were left, who +fell upon him and slew his palfrey, and took the knight and +stripped him to the shirt, and bound him hand and foot, and cast +him into a briar-bush: and the Lady they stripped, and took from +her her palfrey. They beheld the Lady, and saw that she was +full fair, and each one would have her. At the last, they +accorded betwixt them hereto, that they should lie with her, and +they had their will of her in her despite; and when they had so +done they went their ways, and she abode, much grieving and much +sad. The good knight beheld it, and said much sweetly: +“Dame, now unbind me my hands, and let us be +going.” Now she saw a sword, which was of one of the +slain strong-thieves; she took it, and went towards her lord, who +lay as aforesaid; she came in great ire by seeming, and said: +“Yea, unbind thee I will.” Then she held the +sword all bare, and hove it up, and thought to smite him amidst +the body, but by the good mercy of Jesus Christ, and by the +valiancy of the knight, he turned upso down, and she smote the +bonds he was bound withal, and sundered them, and he leapt up, +for as bound and hurt as he was, and said: “Dame, if God +will, thou shalt slay me not to-day.”</p> +<p>At this word spake the Lady, the wife of the Soudan: +“Ha, sir! thou sayest the sooth; and well I know wherefore +she would to do it.” “Dame,” said the +Count, “and wherefore?” “Certes,” +quoth she, “for the great shame which had befallen +her.”</p> +<p>When Messire Thibault heard that, he fell a-weeping much +tenderly, and said: “Ha, alas! what fault had she therein +then, Lady? So may God give me deliverance from this prison +wherein I am, never should I have made worse semblance to her +therefor, whereas it was maugre her will.”</p> +<p>“Sir,” said the Lady, “that she deemed +nought. Now tell me,” she said, “which deem ye +the rather, that she be quick or dead?” +“Dame,” said he, “we wot not.” +“Well wot I,” said the Count, “of the great +pain we have suffered, which God hath sent us for the sin which I +did against her.” “But if it pleased +God,” said the Lady, “that she were alive, and that +ye might have of her true tidings, what would ye say +thereto?” “Lady,” said the Count, +“then were I gladder than I should be to be delivered out +of this prison, or to have so much riches as never had I in my +life.” “Dame,” said Messire Thibault, +“may God give me no joy of that which I most desire, but I +were not the gladder than to be king of France.” +“Dame,” said the varlet who was her brother, +“certes none could give me or promise me thing whereof I +should be so glad as of the life of my sister, who was so fair a +dame, and so good.”</p> +<p>But when the Lady heard these words, then was the heart of her +softened and she praised God, and gave him thanks therefor, and +said to them: “Take heed, now, that there be no feigning in +your words.” And they answered and said that none +there was. Then fell the Lady a-weeping tenderly, and said +to them: “Sir, now mayest thou well say that thou art my +father, and I thy daughter, even her on whom thou didest such +cruel justice. And thou, Messire Thibault, thou art my lord +and my baron. And thou, sir varlet, art my +brother.”</p> +<p>Therewith she told them how the merchants had found her, and +how they gave her as a gift to the Soudan. And when they +heard that, they were much glad, and made much great joy, and +humbled them before her; but she forbade them that they should +make any semblance, and said: “I am Saracen, and renied, +for otherwise I might never endure, but were presently +dead. Wherefore I pray you and bid you, for as dear as ye +hold your lives and honours, and your havings the greater, that +ye never once, whatso ye may hear or see, make any more fair +semblance unto me, but hold you simply. So leave me to deal +therewith. Now shall I tell you wherefore I have uncovered +me to you. The Soudan, who is now my lord, goeth presently +a-riding; and I know thee well” (said she to Messire +Thibault), “that thou art a valiant man and a good knight: +therefore I will pray the Soudan to take thee with him; and then +if ever thou wert valiant, now do thou show it, and serve the +Soudan so well that he may have no evil to tell of +thee.”</p> +<p>Therewith departed the Lady, and came unto the Soudan, and +said: “Sir, one of my prisoners will go with thee, if it +please thee.” “Dame,” said he, “I +would not dare trust me to him, lest he do me some +treason.” “Sir,” she said, “in +surety mayest thou lead him along; for I will hold the +others.” “Dame,” said he, “I will +lead him with me, since thou counsellest me so, and I will give +him a horse much good, and arms, and all that is meet for +him.”</p> +<p>So then the Lady went back, and said to Messire Thibault: +“I have done so much with the Soudan, that thou shalt go +with him. Now bethink thee to do well.” But her +brother kneeled before her, and prayed her that she would do so +much with the Soudan that he also should go. But said she: +“I will not do it, the matter be over open +thereby.”</p> +<p>The Soudan arrayed his matters and went his ways, and Messire +Thibault with him, and they went against the enemy. The +Soudan delivered to Messire Thibault arms and horse. By the +will of Jesus Christ, who never forgetteth them who have in him +trust and good faith, Messire Thibault did so much in arms, that +in a little while the enemy of the Soudan was brought under, +whereof much was the Soudan rejoiced; he had the victory, and led +away much folk with him. And so soon as he was come back, +he went to the Lady, and said: “Dame, by my law, I much +praise thy prisoner, for much well hath he served me; and if he +will cast aside his law and take ours, I will give him wide +lands, and richly will I marry him.” +“Sir,” she said, “I wot not, but I trow not +that he will do it.” Therewith they were silent, so +that they spake not more. But the Lady dighted in her +business straightway after these things the best she might, and +she came to her prisoners, and said:</p> +<p>“Lords, now do ye hold ye wisely, that the Soudan +perceive not our counsel; for, if God please, we shall yet be in +France and the land of Ponthieu.”</p> +<p>Now came a day when the Lady moaned much, and complained her, +and came before the Soudan, and said: “Sir, I go with +child, well I wot it, and am fallen into great infirmity, nor +ever since thy departure have I eaten aught wherein was any +savour to me.” “Dame,” said he, “I +am heavy of thy sickness, but much joyous that thou art with +child. But now command and devise all things that thou +deemest might be good for thee, and I will let seek and array +them, whatsoever they may cost me.”</p> +<p>When the Lady heard that, she had much great joy in her heart; +but never did she show any semblance thereof, save that so much +she said: “Sir, my old prisoner hath said to me, that but I +be presently upon earth of a right nature, I am but dead and that +I may not live long.” “Dame,” said the +Soudan, “nought will I thy death: look to it, then, on what +land thou wouldest be, and I will let lead thee +thereto.” “Sir,” she said, “it is +of no matter to me, so that I be out of this city.”</p> +<p>Then the Soudan let array a ship fair and stout, and let +garnish her well with wine and victual. “Sir,” +said the Lady to the Soudan, “I will have with me my old +prisoner and my young one, and they shall play at the chess and +the tables; and my son will I take to pleasure me.” +“Dame,” said he, “it pleaseth me well that thou +do thy will herein. But what hap with the third +prisoner?” “Sir,” said she, “thou +shalt do thy will herein.” “Dame,” said +he, “I will that thou take him with thee; for he is a +valiant man, and will heed thee well on land and sea, if need +thou have thereto.”</p> +<p>Therewith she prayed leave of the Soudan, and he granted it, +and much he prayed her to come back speedily. The ship was +apparelled, and they were alboun; and they went aboard, and +departed from the haven.</p> +<p>Good wind they had, and ran much hard: and the mariners called +to the Lady, and said to her: “Dame, this wind is bringing +straight to Brandis; now command us thy pleasure to go thither or +elsewhere.” And she said to them: “Let run +hardily, for I know well how to speak French and other tongues, +and I will lead you through all.”</p> +<p>Now so much they ran by day and by night, through the will of +Jesus Christ, that they are come to Brandis there they took +harbour in all safety, and lighted down on the shore, and were +received with much great joy. The Lady, who was much wise, +drew towards the prisoners, and said to them: “Lords, I +would that ye call to mind the words and agreements which ye said +to me, and I would be now all sure of you, and have good surety +of your oaths, and that ye say to me on all that ye hold to be of +God if ye will to hold to your behests, which ye have behight me, +or not; for yet have I good might to return.”</p> +<p>They answered: “Lady, know without doubt that we have +covenanted nought with you which shall not be held toward you by +us loyally; and know by our Christendom and our Baptism, and by +whatsoever we hold of God, that we will hold to it; be thou in no +doubt thereof.”</p> +<p>“And I will trow in you henceforth,” said the +Lady. “Now, lords,” said she, “lo here my +son, whom I had of the Soudan; what shall we do with +him?” “Dame, let him come to great honour and +great gladness.” “Lords,” said the Lady, +“much have I misdone against the Soudan, for I have taken +from him my body, and his son whom he loved much.”</p> +<p>Then she went back to the mariners, and called and said to +them: “Masters, get ye back and tell to the Soudan that I +have taken from him my body, and his son whom he loved much, and +that I have cast forth from prison my father, my husband, and my +brother.” And when the mariners heard that, they were +much grieving; but more they might not do; and they returned, sad +and sorrowful for the Lady, and for the youngling, whom they +loved much, and for the prisoners, who were thus lost without +recoverance.</p> +<p>But the Count apparelled himself, whereto he had well enough, +by means of merchants and by Templars, who lent him of their good +full willingly. And when the Count and his company had +sojourned in the town so long as their pleasure was, they arrayed +them and went their ways thence, and came to Rome. The +Count went before the Apostle, and his fellowship with him. +Each one confessed him the best that he could; and when the +Apostle heard it, he was much glad, and much great cheer he made +of them. He baptized the child, and he was called +William. He reconciled the Lady, and set her again in right +Christendom, and confirmed the Lady and Messire Thibault, her +baron, in right marriage, and joined them together again, and +gave penitence to each of them, and absolved them of their +sins.</p> +<p>After that, they abode no long while ere they departed from +Rome and took their leave of the Apostle, who much had honoured +them; and he gave them his blessing, and commended them to +God. So went they in great joy and in great pleasance, and +praised God and his mother and the hallows, both carl and quean, +and gave thanks for the goods which they had done them.</p> +<p>And so far they journeyed, that they came into the land where +they were born, and were received in great procession by the +bishops and the abbots, and the people of religion and the other +clerks, who much had desired them.</p> +<p>But above all other joys made they joy the Lady who was thus +recovered, and who had thus delivered her father, her husband, +and her brother from the hands of the Saracens, even as ye have +heard. But now leave we of them in this place, and tell we +of the mariners who had brought them, and of the Saracens who had +come with them.</p> +<p>The mariners and the Saracens who had brought them to Brandis +returned at their speediest; they had good wind, and ran till +they came off Aumarie.</p> +<p>They lighted down on shore sad and sorrowful, and went to tell +the tidings to the Soudan, who was much sorrowful thereof, and in +great dole abode; and for this adventure the less he loved his +daughter, who had abided there, and honoured her the less. +Notwithstanding, the damsel became much sage, and waxed in great +wit, so that all honoured her and loved her, and prized her for +the good deeds which they told of her.</p> +<p>But now the history holds its peace of the Soudan, who made +great dole for his wife and his prisoners who thus had escaped, +and it returneth to the Count of Ponthieu, who was received into +his land with great procession, and much honoured as the lord +that he was.</p> +<p>No long while wore ere his son was made knight, and great +cheer folk made of him. He was a knight much worthy and +valiant, and much he loved the worthies, and fair gifts he gave +to poor knights and poor gentle dames of the country, and much +was prized and loved of poor and of rich. For a worthy he +was, and a good knight, and courteous, and openhanded, and kind, +and nowise proud. Yet but a little while he lived, which +was great damage, and much was he bemoaned of all.</p> +<p>After this adventure it befell that the Count held a great +court and a great feast, and had a many of knights and other folk +with him; and therewithal came a very noble man and knight, who +was a much high man in Normandy, who was called my lord Raoul de +Preaux. This Raoul had a daughter much fair and much +wise. The Count spake so much to my lord Raoul and to his +friends, that he made the wedding betwixt William his nephew, son +to the Soudan of Aumarie, and the daughter of my lord Raoul, for +no heir had he save that daughter. William wedded the +damsel, and the wedding was done much richly, and thereafter was +the said William lord of Preaux.</p> +<p>Long time thence was the land in peace and without war: and +Messire Thibault was with the Lady, and had of her sithence two +man-children, who thereafter were worthies and of great +lordship. The son of the Count of Ponthieu, of whom we have +told so much good, died but a little thereafter, whereof was made +great dole throughout all the land. The Count of St. Pol +lived yet, and now were the two sons of my lord Thibault heirs of +those two countries, and thereto they attained at the last. +The good dame their mother lived in great penitence, and much she +did of good deeds and alms; and Messire Thibault lived as the +worthy which he was, and much did he of good whiles he was in +life.</p> +<p>Now it befell that the daughter of the Lady, who had abided +with the Soudan her father, waxed in great beauty and became much +wise, and was called the Fair Caitif, because her mother had left +her thus as ye have heard: but a Turk, much valiant, who served +the Soudan (Malakin of Baudas was he called), this Malakin saw +the damsel to be courteous and sage, and much good had heard tell +of her; wherefore he coveted her in his heart, and came to the +Soudan and said to him: “Sir, for the service which I have +done thee, give me a gift.” “Malakin,” +said the Soudan, “what gift?” +“Sir,” said he, “might I dare to say it, +because of her highness, whereof I have nought so much as she, +say it I would.”</p> +<p>The Soudan, who wise was and clear-seeing, said to him: +“Speak in all surety that which thou willest to speak; for +much I love thee and prize thee; and if the thing be a thing +which I may give thee, saving my honour, know verily that thou +shalt have it.” “Sir,” said he, +“well I will that thine honour shall be safe, and against +it nought would I ask of thee: but if it please thee, give me thy +daughter, for I pray her of thee, and right willingly would I +take her.”</p> +<p>The Soudan held his peace and thought awhile; and he saw well +that Malakin was a worthy, and wise, and might well come to great +honour and great good, and that well he might be worthied; so he +said: “Malakin, by my law, thou hast craved me a great +thing, for I love much my daughter, and no heir else have I, as +thou wottest well, and as sooth is. She is born and come +from the most highest kindred and the most valiant of France; for +her mother is daughter of the Count of Ponthieu; but whereas thou +art valiant, and much well hast served me, I will give her to +thee with a good will, if she will grant it.” +“Sir,” said Malakin, “against her will would I +do nothing.”</p> +<p>Then the Soudan let call the damsel, and she came, and he said +to her: “My fair daughter, I have married thee, if so it +please thee.” “Sir,” she said, +“well is my pleasure therein, if thou will it.” +Then the Soudan took her by the hand, and said: “Hold, +Malakin! I give her to thee.” He received her +gladly, and in great joy and in great honour of all his friends; +and he wedded her according to the Saracen law; and he led her +into his land in great joy and in great honour. The Soudan +brought him on his road a great way, with much company of folk, +so far as him pleased; then returned, and took leave of his +daughter and her lord. But a great part of his folk he sent +with her to serve them.</p> +<p>Malakin came into his country, and much was he served and +honoured, and was received with great joy by all his friends; and +they twain lived together long and joyously, and had children +together, as the history beareth witness.</p> +<p>Of this dame, who was called the Fair Caitif, was born the +mother of the courteous Turk Salahadin, who was so worthy and +wise and conquering.</p> +<p>Here ends the Story of Over Sea, done out of ancient French +into English by William Morris.</p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center">Printed by <span +class="smcap">Ballantyne</span>, <span +class="smcap">Hanson</span> & <span +class="smcap">Co</span>.<br /> +London & Edinburgh</p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<h2>Footnotes</h2> +<p><a name="footnote1"></a><a href="#citation1" +class="footnote">[1]</a> <i>Nouvelles françaises en +prose du xiii </i><sup><i>ième</i></sup><i> siecle</i>, +par MM. L. Moland et C. D’Hericault. (Paris: Janet, +1856.)</p> +<p><a name="footnote2"></a><a href="#citation2" +class="footnote">[2]</a> I have given a version of it in my +<i>English Fairy Tales</i>, and there is a ballad on the subject +entitled <i>The Cruel Knight</i>.</p> +<p><a name="footnote3"></a><a href="#citation3" +class="footnote">[3]</a> See Clouston, <i>Book of +Sindibad</i>, p. 279.</p> +<p><a name="footnote4"></a><a href="#citation4" +class="footnote">[4]</a> Figured in M. Ulysse Robert, +<i>Signes d’infamie au moyen âge</i>, Paris, +1891. Lovers of Stevenson will remember the effective use +made of this in <i>The Black Arrow</i>.</p> +<p><a name="footnote5"></a><a href="#citation5" +class="footnote">[5]</a> It has been suggested that the +names of our heroes have given rise to the proverbial saying: +“A miss (Amis) is as good as a mile (Amile),” but +notwithstanding the high authority from which the suggestion +emanates, it is little more than a pun.</p> +<p><a name="footnote6"></a><a href="#citation6" +class="footnote">[6]</a> For occurrences of this incident +in sagas, etc., see Grimm, <i>Deutsche +Rechtsalterthümer</i>, 168–70; in folk-tales, Dasent, +<i>Tales from the Norse</i>, cxxxiv.–v., <i>n.</i> +xviii</p> +<p><a name="footnote7"></a><a href="#citation7" +class="footnote">[7]</a> Mr. Hartland has studied the +“Lifetoken” in the eighth chapter of his elaborate +treatise on the Legend of Perseus.</p> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OLD FRENCH ROMANCES***</p> +<pre> + + +***** This file should be named 5988-h.htm or 5988-h.zip****** + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/5/9/8/5988 + + + +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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