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diff --git a/old/ofrr10.txt b/old/ofrr10.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..07dfb2a --- /dev/null +++ b/old/ofrr10.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3834 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Old French Romances, by William Morris +(#13 in our series by William Morris) + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the +copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing +this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. + +This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project +Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: Old French Romances + +Author: William Morris + +Release Date: June, 2004 [EBook #5988] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on October 8, 2002] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, OLD FRENCH ROMANCES *** + + + + +Transcribed from the 1896 George Allen edition by David Price, email +ccx074@coventry.ac.uk + + + + +OLD FRENCH ROMANCES DONE INTO ENGLISH BY WILLIAM MORRIS + + + + +INTRODUCTION + + + + +Many 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 Bibliotheque Elzevirienne. {1} Its last pages contain the +charming Cante-Fable of Aucassin et Nicolete, 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 +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 Aucassin et Nicolete, 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. + + +I. + + +Almost all literary roads lead back to Greece. Obscure as still +remains the origin of that genre 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 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. + + +II + + +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 has published in Romania (vi. 1. seq.) the Dit de +l'empereur Constant, the verse original of the story before us, and +in this occur the lines - + + +Pour ce que si nobles estoit +Et que nobles oevres faisoit +L'appielloient Constant le noble +Et pour cou ot Constantinnoble +Li cytes de Bissence a non. + + +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. + +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 Arabian Nights than of Gibbon. + +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. + +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 Folklore of the Northern Counties, and entitled The Fish +and the Ring. {2} 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. + +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 when the Baron is dining at the castle, while cleaning a great +fish she finds his ring, and all ends happily. + +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. + +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 The Devil with +the Three Golden Hairs, 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 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 [Greek text which +cannot be reproduced]. + +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 Byzantinische Zeitschrift, 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 the +Greek provenance 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. + +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 Kathakosa +{3} 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 vraisemblance. The girl's name is Visha, and the +operative clause of the fatal letter is: + + +"Before this man has washed his feet, do thou with speed +Give him poison (visham), and free my heart from care." + + +The lady thinks (or wishes) that her father is a bad orthographist, +and corrects his spelling by omitting the final m, 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 Kathakosa and about +the communication between Byzantium and India before we can +decisively determine which came first. + + +III + + +Amis and Amil were the David and Jonathan, the Orestes and Pylades, +of the mediaeval 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 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 AEmilius). 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 Acta +Sanctorum. 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 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. + +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 Fioretti tells how St. Francis +overcame in himself the mediaeval 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 {4}--from tending his friend. + +Here again romance has points of contact with the folk tale. The end +of the Grimms' tale of Faithful John is clearly the same as that of +Amis and Amile. {5} Once more we are led to believe in some +dependence of the Folk-Tale on Romance, or, vice versa, 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 +publico was applied, and the sword was regarded as a kind of +chaperon. {6} It is noteworthy that the incident occurs in Aladdin +and the Wonderful Lamp, which is a late interpolation into the +Arabian Nights, and may be due there to 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" {7} 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. + + +IV + + +The tale of King Florus--the gem of the book--recalls the early part +of Shakespeare's Cymbeline 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. The Romance of the Violet, by Gerbert de +Montruil, circa 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. The Gaelic version of this incident, +collected by Campbell (The Chest, 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 Romance of the Violet is found among folk-songs in +modern Greece and in Modern Scotland. In Passow's collection of +Romaic Folk Songs there is one entitled Maurianos and the King, 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 Minstrelsy +has a ballad entitled Reedisdale and Wise William, 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. + + +V + + +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), 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. + +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. + + +VI + + +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. + +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. + +Mr. Pater seems to regard our stories as being a premonition of the +freedom and gaiety of the Renaissance rather than as especially +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 esprit +Gaulois. 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 mediaeval +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. + +We thus obtain that absence or localisation which helps to give the +characteristic tone to mediaeval 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 mediaeval 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? + +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 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 Battle of the Birds, and in Norse as the +Master Maid. Many of the tales which the travellers told one another +in the Earthly Paradise, such as The Man Born to be King (itself +derived from the first of our stories), The Land East of the Sun and +West of the Moon, and The Ring given to Venus, 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 +The Earthly Paradise? + +JOSEPH JACOBS. + + + +THE TALE OF KING COUSTANS THE EMPEROR + + + +This 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. + +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. + +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. + +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." + +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." + +"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!" + +"Well me now," said the Emperor, "in what good point is the child +born?" + +"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." + +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. + +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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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." + +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. + +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." + +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." + +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." + +"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." + +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!" + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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." + +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." + +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." + +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. + +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: + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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." + +"Ha, Lady!" said the Burgreve, "what is that thou sayest? Thy father +has bidden thus by his letter, and it behoveth not to gainsay." + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +"And wherefore is that?" said the Emperor. "Wherefore, Sir! Wot ye +not well thereof?" "Nay, forsooth," said the Emperor, "but tell me +wherefore." + +"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." + +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? + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Here withal endeth the Story of King Coustans the Emperor. + +The said story was done out of the ancient French into English by +William Morris. + + + +THE FRIENDSHIP OF AMIS AND AMILE + + + +In 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. + +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. + +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." + +Thereof great joy made the Count, and he and his folk praised the +counsel of the elder. + +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. + +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." + +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." + +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. + +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." + +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. + +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." + +And they answered that they were ready to follow him and do his +bidding. + +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. + +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." + +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. + +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." + +Then he departed from the pilgrim, and went his ways to Paris, and +found no-whither Amis his fellow. + +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." + +"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. + +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." + +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." + +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. + +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." + +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. + +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. + +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." + +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. + +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." + +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." + +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." + +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. + +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." + +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." + +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. + +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." + +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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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." + +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." + +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." + +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. + +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." + +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." + +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." + +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." + +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. + +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." + +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." + +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?" + +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." + +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." + +Then Amis answered: "As true as it was an Angel who spake to me this +night, so may God deliver me from mine infirmity." + +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.'" + +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. + +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." + +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." + +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." + +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. + +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." + +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." + +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!" + +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. + +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." + +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?" + +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." + +Which thing they did even unto their death and held chastity. + +And they made great joy through that same city for ten days. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Reigning our Lord Jesus Christ, who liveth and reigneth without end +with the Father and the Holy Ghost. AMEN. + + + +THE TALE OF KING FLORUS AND THE FAIR JEHANE + + + +Here 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 Ho]y 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. + +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. + +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. + +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." + +Then the knight delivered to him his glove, and invested him with the +land and his fair daughter. + +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. + +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." + +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. + +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. + +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." + +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." + +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. + +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. + +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: + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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." + +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." + +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. + +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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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." + +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. + +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." + +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." + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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." + +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. + +"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." + +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." + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +Here endeth the tale of King Florus and the Fair Jehane. + + + +THE HISTORY OF OVER SEA + + + + +In years bygone was a Count of Ponthieu, who loved much chivalry and +the world, and was a much valiant man and a good knight. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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." + +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." + +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. + +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. + +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." + +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.' + +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." + +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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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." + +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." + +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." + +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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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." + +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." + +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." + +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. + +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." + +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. + +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. + +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." + +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." + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +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." + +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." + +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. + +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." + +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. + +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. + +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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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." + +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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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." + +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. + +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. + +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." + +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. + +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. + +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." + +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." + +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." + +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." + +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." + +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." + +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." + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +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." + +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. + +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. + +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?" + +"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. + +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." + +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." + +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." + +"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." + +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." + +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." + +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." + +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." + +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: + +"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." + +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." + +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." + +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." + +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. + +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." + +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." + +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." + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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." + +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." + +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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Here ends the Story of Over Sea, done out of ancient French into +English by William Morris. + + + +Footnotes: + +{1} Nouvelles francaises en prose du xiii ieme siecle, par MM. L. +Moland et C. D'Hericault. (Paris: Janet, 1856.) + +{2} I have given a version of it in my English Fairy Tales, and +there is a ballad on the subject entitled The Cruel Knight. + +{3} See Clouston, Book of Sindibad, p. 279. + +{4} Figured in M. Ulysse Robert, Signes d'infamie au moyen age, +Paris, 1891. Lovers of Stevenson will remember the effective use +made of this in The Black Arrow. + +{5} 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. + +{6} For occurrences of this incident in sagas, etc., see Grimm, +Deutsche Rechtsalterthumer, 168-70; in folk-tales, Dasent, Tales from +the Norse, cxxxiv.-v., n. xviii + +{7} Mr. Hartland has studied the "Lifetoken" in the eighth chapter +of his elaborate treatise on the Legend of Perseus. + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, OLD FRENCH ROMANCES *** + +This file should be named ofrr10.txt or ofrr10.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, ofrr11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, ofrr10a.txt + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN EBOOKS*Ver.02/11/02*END* + diff --git a/old/ofrr10.zip b/old/ofrr10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..42f671e --- /dev/null +++ b/old/ofrr10.zip diff --git a/old/ofrr10h.htm b/old/ofrr10h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9390b9a --- /dev/null +++ b/old/ofrr10h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,3515 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=US-ASCII" /> +<title>Old French Romances</title> +</head> +<body> +<h2> +<a href="#startoftext">Old French Romances, by William Morris</a> +</h2> +<pre> +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Old French Romances, by William Morris +(#13 in our series by William Morris) + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world. 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You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: Old French Romances + +Author: William Morris + +Release Date: June, 2004 [EBook #5988] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on October 8, 2002] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII +</pre> +<p><a name="startoftext"></a></p> +<p>Transcribed from the 1896 George Allen edition by David Price, email +ccx074@coventry.ac.uk</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines3"><br /><br /><br /></div> +<h1>OLD FRENCH ROMANCES DONE INTO ENGLISH BY WILLIAM MORRIS</h1> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines3"><br /><br /><br /></div> +<h2>INTRODUCTION</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines3"><br /><br /><br /></div> +<p>Many 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">{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 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> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>I.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>Almost 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 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> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>II</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<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 +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> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>Pour ce que si <i>nobles</i> estoit<br />Et que nobles œvres +faisoit<br />L’appielloient <i>Constant le noble<br /></i>Et pour +çou ot <i>Constantinnoble<br /></i>Li cytés de Bissence +a non.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<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>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>, and entitled +<i>The Fish and the Ring</i>. <a name="citation2"></a><a href="#footnote2">{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 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 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 +λυγρα<i>.</i></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 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>Kathakosa</i> <a name="citation3"></a><a href="#footnote3">{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> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>“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> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<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>Kathakosa</i> +and about the communication between Byzantium and India before we can +decisively determine which came first.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>III</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<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 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 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">{4}</a> +- from tending his friend.</p> +<p>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">{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">{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 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">{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> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>IV</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<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. +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> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>V</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<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), 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> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>VI</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<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 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 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 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>JOSEPH JACOBS.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>THE TALE OF KING COUSTANS THE EMPEROR</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>This 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> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>THE FRIENDSHIP OF AMIS AND AMILE</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>In 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:</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>“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> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>THE TALE OF KING FLORUS AND THE FAIR JEHANE</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Here 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 Ho]y 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> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>THE HISTORY OF OVER SEA</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines3"><br /><br /><br /></div> +<p>In 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="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Footnotes:</p> +<p><a name="footnote1"></a><a href="#citation1">{1}</a> <i>Nouvelles +françaises en prose du xiii ième siecle</i>, par MM. L. +Moland et C. D’Hericault. (Paris: Janet, 1856.)</p> +<p><a name="footnote2"></a><a href="#citation2">{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">{3}</a> See Clouston, +<i>Book of Sindibad</i>, p. 279.</p> +<p><a name="footnote4"></a><a href="#citation4">{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">{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">{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">{7}</a> Mr. Hartland +has studied the “Lifetoken” in the eighth chapter of his +elaborate treatise on the Legend of Perseus.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines3"><br /><br /><br /></div> +<p>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, OLD FRENCH ROMANCES ***</p> +<pre> + +******This file should be named ofrr10h.htm or ofrr10h.zip****** +Corrected EDITIONS of our EBooks get a new NUMBER, ofrr11h.htm +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, ofrr10ah.htm + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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