{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_44433/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_44433","id":"gutenberg_44433","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44433","summary":null,"tags":["Arthurian romances","Category: Adventure","Category: Historical Novels","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Novels","Fantasy fiction"],"text":"JAUFRY THE KNIGHT AND THE FAIR BRUNISSENDE\n\nA TALE OF THE TIMES OF KING ARTHUR\n\nBy Mary Lafon\n\nTranslated From The French Version by Alfred Elwes.\n\nIllustrated With Twenty Engravings By Gustave Dore\n\nAddey And Co.\n\nMDCCCLVI\n\n\n[Illustration: frontispiece]\n\n[Illustration: titlepage]\n\n\n\n\nILLUSTRATIONS.\n\nThey reached the lofty rock, where, at the summit, they beheld the king\nhanging thus helpless from the monster's horns..........Frontispiece.\n\n\u201cKnight,\u201d then cried Jaufry to the corpse, \u201cit grieves me not to know\nthy slayer, or whether thou wert wrong or whether right: thou now art\ndead; but if I can, I even will learn why, and by whose hand\u201d.....035\n\n\u201cKnight,\u201d said Sir Jaufry, \u201cthou dost press me sore\u201d..............043\n\nThe wood and iron, for a cubit's length, pierced through the shoulder.\n..................................................................053\n\n\u201cGood Mend,\u201d he then apostrophised the knight, \u201cthe passage now may be\nconsidered safe\u201d..................................................054\n\n\u201cHalt, knight,\u201d he cried; \u201cI'll have a word with thee\u201d............060\n\nA fierce wind, in passing, swept away the last memorial of the magic\nwork..............................................................082\n\nKnights and burghers, minstrels, jugglers from all countries, hither\ntrooping came.....................................................088\n\nHis troop returned, bearing him faint and bleeding................094\n\nThe wood was gloomy, intricate, and dense; and at the first cross-road\nbefore him, he beheld, squatted beneath a pine, a hag, whose aspect\nstruck him with surprise..........................................100\n\n\u201cHeaven!\u201d Sir Jaufry cried, \u201cin thee I trust; what figure have we\nhere?\u201d............................................................110\n\nBack returned the sable knight, hissing and growling as the thunder\ndoth when tempests vex the air....................................112\n\nJaufry with Augier's daughter rode away...........................117\n\nNo wonder, then, if Jaufry were surprised to see her come thus lovely,\nfull of grace, and smiling as the queen of the sweet south........131\n\nI leave you to surmise the games and joy which at the castle on that\nday were seen.....................................................134\n\nThey sat them down in the great hall of the castle................136\n\nHe his efforts used to save her with the butt-end of his lance....140\n\nSir Jaufry found himself with two dames in a delicious land.......143\n\nThen was the convent-church most richly decked, to which the king in\npomp conducted him with the fair Brunissende......................155\n\nAll the train which called Sir Melyan lord escorted back in triumph\nto Montbran that happy pair.......................................157\n\n\n\n\nTRANSLATOR'S PREFACE.\n\nThe description given by one of the authors of _Jauvfry_ about the\norigin of the romance, and the evidence afforded by the French adapter\nconcerning the Mss. wherein it is contained, make it unnecessary for me\nto dwell upon these particulars.\n\nThe veneration in which King Arthur's name is held by all lovers of\nthe early romantic history of Britain will give the tale a strong\nrecommendation in such eyes; while the personages with which it deals\nrender the appearance of its characters in an English dress the more\npleasing and appropriate.\n\nAs answerable for the fashion and material of the costume, I may be\npermitted to say a few words concerning the rule which has guided me\nin producing it. Keeping in view that the original romance is a poem in\nform and composition, I have endeavoured, in my translation, still to\npreserve the poetic character; and though compelled to base my work upon\na prose version, I have tried, within certain limits, rather to restore\nits original shape, than allow it, by the second ordeal to which it is\nthus subjected, to lose it altogether. Whether such attempt, however\nhonestly conceived, has been properly carried out, must be determined by\nmy readers.\n\nA.E.\n\nKing's Arms,\n\nMoorgate Street, London.\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE TO THE FRENCH VERSION.\n\nThe literary world of France scarce knows the extent of its own riches.\nIn the catacombs of its libraries and archives there is a heap of\nunknown jewels which would give a new and brighter lustre to its poetic\nwreath. The \u201cgreat age\u201d did not even suspect their existence; the\neighteenth century passed over without bestowing on them, a glance; and\nif, in our days, a few of our learned brethren have conceived the idea\nof drawing them to light, the rumour of their labours, which moreover\nwere both superficial and incomplete, never got beyond the doors of the\nInstitute.\n\nThere still remains, then, more especially as regards the south, to open\nup the lode of this mine of gold,--a virgin mine as yet, inasmuch as\nSainte-Palaye, Rochegude, Raynouard, and Fauriel, have but scraped Upon\nits surface,--and reanimate, in a poetic point of view, the middle ages,\ntoo easily sacrificed at the period of the _renaissance_, too severely\nproscribed by the University. Fed, in truth, from our entry into college\nwith the literature of Greece and Rome, which, however admirable in\nform, is but sober in invention, we can have no conception of those\nworks wherein the imagination of France, youthful, vigorous, and gay,\nblossomed in full freshness like a rose in spring. Some judgment may\nbe formed of the value of the poems rhymed by the troubadours in the\ntwelfth and thirteenth centuries by the romance which is now presented\nto the public. Dragged from the dust beneath which it has lain buried\nfor six hundred years, the romance of _Jaufry_ is translated for the\nfirst time; and when we consider the merit of the story, we may add,\nwithout fear of contradiction, that it deserved such honour long ago.\n\nLet the reader call up in his mind a pavilion of Smyrna or Granada, with\ncolumns of white marble light and graceful as those of the Alhambra,\nwith elegant trellis-work, glass of varied hues, and filled with a\npervading tone of warmth,--the warmth of a May sun,--and he will have\nsome notion of the romance of _Jaufry and the fair Brunissende_:--few\nthings being more piquant, more fresh, more fanciful, or which better\nreflect the charming caprices of a southern imagination in the middle\nages. Feudal society revives therein entire, with all its fairy doings,\nits knightly fictions, its manners, and its grand lance-thrusts; and\nsuch is the interest of the tale, that we allow ourselves to be carried\naway by it with as much pleasure as our ancestors must have felt,\nwhen it was told to the sounds of the minstrers viol in the great\ncastle-hall, or beneath the shadow of the tent.\n\nTwo peculiarities, which are not matter of indifference to history,\nenhance the value of this poetic gem: one is, the influence of Arabic\nideas, of which it has a distant savour like the balmy oases of\nthe East; and the other, the inspiration which it evidently lent to\nCervantes. If, for instance, we discover therein the roc, the wishes,\nand the tent of the Fairy Paribanou, as traces of the _Arabian Nights_,\nwe behold, on the other hand, that this romance of _Jaufry_ has\nfurnished the one-handed genius of Alcala with the first idea of the\nadventure of the galley-slaves (_desdichados galeotes_), the cavalier\nin green (_cavallero del verde gavan_), the braying of the regidors\n(_rebuzno de los dos regidores_), the Princess Micomicona, and the\nenchanted head. And in this respect we may be permitted to remark, that\nthe romance of _Jaufry_ offers matter of a piquant comparison with the\nwork of Miguel Cervantes. Is it not strange, after the ingenious _Don\nQuixote_, to find ourselves reading with pleasure the adventures of a\nknight-errant?\n\nWe should still have much to say concerning this poem and our system of\ntranslating it; but as we are averse to useless dissertations, we will\nconfine our further remarks within short space. This romance, which is\nwritten in the _Proven\u00e7al_ tongue of the twelfth century, is composed\nof eleven thousand one hundred and sixty verses of eight syllables. *\nIt was begun by a troubadour, who heard the tale related at the court of\nthe king of Aragon, and finished by a poet whose modesty caused him to\nconceal his own name and that of his colleague. In order to render the\nreading of their work more pleasant, while using our efforts to retain\nthe southern character and genuine tone of colour, we have pared away\nsome of the verbosity and tautologies which at times encumber while they\nretard the progress of the action. May this flower of the genius of our\nfathers retain in our modern tongue a part of that freshness and perfume\nwhich were its attributes in former days!\n\n     * The Imperial Library possesses two manuscript copies: one\n     in small folio, written in a minute round Italian hand, with\n     double columns of forty-five verses,--124 pages, classed\n     under No. 291, 2d French supplement; the other, a small\n     quarto, which will be found under No. 7988.\n\n\n\n\nAUTHOR'S PREFACE.\n\nNow of a tale of chivalry, of proper fashion, great allurement, full\nof-wise and courteous instances, and wherein abound acts of great\nprowess, strange adventures, assaults, encounters, and dread battles,\nyou may list the telling. An it amuse you, I will relate thereof all\nthat I do know, or that it please you to give ear unto. Let me know only\nthat which ye desire, and if ye be inclined to listen in good sooth.\nWhen the minstrel doth indeed recite, neither should hearers buy nor\nsell, nor in low voice hold council; for thus the recital is lost to\nhim who speaketh, and they methinks who listen cannot find therein great\npleasure.\n\nI come, then, to recount to you tidings of the court of good King\nArthur; he who was so worthy, so valiant, and so wise, that his name\nshall never die, but whereof shall eternally be spoken the mighty things\nhe did; and the good knights, all for their prowess known, whom he did\ngather at his famed Round Table. In that court, the fairest and most\nloyal that ever shone beneath the stars, all men did find that counsel\nand that aid of which they stood in need. There triumphed right, and\nthere were wrongs redressed.\n\nThere dames and damsels, widows and orphans attacked unjustly, or\ndisinherited by force, ne'er failed to meet with champions. The\noppressed of all conditions there did find a refuge, and none e'er\nsought protection there in vain. Give, then, sweet welcome to a poem the\nfruit of such good place, and deign to listen unto it in peace.\n\nThe troubadour who rhymed it never knew King Arthur; but he heard\nthe entire story told at the court of the king of Aragon, the best of\nmonarchs in this world. *\n\n     * Don Pedro III., killed in 1213 at the battle of Muret.\n\nA worthy father and a famous son, lord of goodly fortunes, humble in\nheart, and frank in nature as in mind, the king of Aragon loveth God and\nfeareth Him; he maintaineth faith and loyalty, peace and justice: thus\nGod protecteth him, giveth him the victory when he raiseth his banner\nagainst the infidel, and placeth him above all those who are alike\nworthy and bold. Where shall we seek youthful brows wearing a crown\nwhich emitteth rays of greater splendour?\n\nHe giveth good gifts to minstrels and to knights, and his court is the\nresort of all those who are esteemed brave and courteous. It was before\nhim the troubadour heard related, by a stranger-knight of kin to Arthur\nand Sir Gawain, the song he here hath rhymed; and whereof the first\nadventure occurred while the king of the Round Table held his court at\nCarlisle on the day of Pentecost.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I. THE ADVENTURE OF THE FOREST.\n\n'Twas {017}on the day of Pentecost, a feast which to Carlisle had drawn\na host of knights, that Arthur, King of Briton's isle, his crown placed\non his brows, and to the old monastic church proceeded to hear mass. And\nwith him went a brilliant train, the Knights of the Round Table. There\nwere Sir Gawain, Lancelot du Lac, Tristrem, and Ivan bold, Eric frank\nof heart, and Quex the seneschal, Percival and Calogrant, Cliges the\nworthy, Coedis the handsome knight, and Caravis short i' the arm; the\nwhole of his bright court, indeed, was there, and many more whose names\nI have forgot.\n\nWhen mass was done, they to the palace home returned 'mid laughter and\nloud noise, the thoughts of each on pleasure only bent. Each on arrival\ngave his humour play. Some spoke of love, and some of chivalry; {018}and\nsome of ventures they were going to seek. Quex at this moment came into\nthe hall, holding a branch of apple in his hand. All made room for him;\nfor there were few who did not fear his tongue and the hard words which\nit was wont to utter. This baron bold held nothing in respect. E'en of\nthe best he ever said the worst. But this apart, he was a brave stout\nknight, in council sage, a valiant man of war, and lord of lineage high;\nbut this, his humour and his biting words took from him much that was of\nright his due.\n\nHe, going straightway to the king, thus said:\n\n\u201cSire, an it please you, it is time to dine.\u201d\n\n\u201cQuex,\u201d replied Arthur, in an angry tone, \u201csure thou wast born but to\nawake my wrath, and out of season ever to discourse. Have I not told\nthee, ay, a thousand times, naught should induce me to partake of food,\nwhen thus my court had met, till some adventure had turned up, some\nknight were vanquished, or some maid set free. Go sit thee down at\nbottom of the hall.\u201d\n\nQuex went without a word among that joyous throng, where men of all\nconditions, knights and lords, minstrels and mountebanks, ceased not\ntheir tricks, their {019}gay discourse, their laughter, till the hour of\nnoon. At noon, King Arthur called Sir Gawain, and thus spoke:\n\n\u201cFair nephew, cause our chargers to be brought; for since adventure\ncometh not to us, we must fain seek it in the open field; for should we\nlonger stay, our knights, indeed, would have a right to think that it\nwere time to dine.\u201d\n\n\u201cYour will, my lord,\u201d Sir Gawain said, \u201cshall be obeyed.\u201d\n\nAnd at the instant he the squires bade to saddle horses and their armour\nbring. Soon were the steeds prepared, the nobles armed. The king then\ngirded on his famous sword, and at the head of his bold barons placed,\nset out for Bressiland, a gloomy wood. Having along its deep and shady\npaths awhile proceeded, the good king drew rein, and 'mid the greatest\nsilence bent his ear. A distant voice was then distinctly heard, calling\nat intervals for human help, and turn by turn invoking God and saints!\n\n\u201cI will ride yonder,\u201d bold King Arthur cried; \u201cbut with no company save\nmy good sword.\u201d\n\n\u201cAn it please you, my lord,\u201d Sir Gawain said, \u201cI fain would ride with\nyou.\u201d\n\n\u201cNot {020}so, fair nephew,\u201d the king made reply; \u201cI need no company.\u201d\n\n\u201cSince such your wish,\u201d said Gawain, \u201chave your will.\u201d\n\nArthur called quickly for his shield and lance, and spurred right\neagerly towards the spot whence came the plaintive voice. As he drew\nnear, the cries the sharper grew. The king pricked on with greater\nspeed, and stopped before a stream by which a mill was placed. Just at\nthe door he saw a woman stand, who wept, and screamed, and wrung her\ntrembling hands, while she her tresses tore in deep despair. The good\nking, moved to pity, asked her why she grieved.\n\n\u201cMy lord,\u201d she weepingly replied, \u201coh! help me, in God's name! a\ndreadful beast, come down from yonder mount, is there within devouring\nall my corn!\u201d\n\nArthur approached, and saw the savage beast, which truly was most\nfrightful to behold.\n\nLarger than largest bull, it had a coat of long and russet fur, a\nwhitish neck and head, which bristled with a pile of horns. Its eyes\nwere large and round, its teeth of monstrous size; its jaws were\nshapeless, legs of massive build; its feet were broad and square.\nA giant elk were not of greater bulk. Arthur observed {021}it for a\ncertain time with wonder in his mind; crossing himself, he then got\noff his horse, drew forth his sword, and, covered with his shield, went\nstraight into the mill. The beast, however, far from being scared, did\nnot so much as even raise its head, but from the hopper still devoured\nthe corn. Seeing it motionless, the king believed the beast was lack of\nspirit, and, to excite it, struck it on the back: but still the creature\nmoved not. He then advanced, and standing right in front, lunged at the\nbeast as though to run it through. It did not even seem to note the act.\nArthur then cautiously laid down his shield, replaced his sword, and,\nbeing stout and strong, he seized it by the horns, and shook it with\ngreat force; natheless he could not make it leave the grain. In rage,\nhe was about to raise his fist, so as to deal it on the head a blow; but\nlo! he could not then remove his hands,--they were as riveted unto its\nhorns.\n\nSoon as the beast perceived its foe was caught, it raised its head; and\nissued from the mill, bearing, pendant from its horns, the king, aghast,\ndistracted, and yet wild with rage. It then regained the wood at easy\npace; when Gawain, who, by good fortune, happed to ride before his\nMends, beheld it thus his uncle {022}carrying off,--a sight which\nhalf-deprived him of his wits.\n\n\u201cKnights!\u201d he exclaimed aloud, \u201chie hither! help to our good lord! and\nmay the laggard never sit at his Round Table more! We should indeed\ndeserve dishonoured names were the king lost for want of timely aid.\u201d As\nthus he spoke, he flew towards the beast, not waiting for the rest, and\ncouched his lance as though to strike at it.\n\nBut the king, fearing harm would come to him, addressed him thus:\n\n\u201cFair nephew, thanks; but e'en for my sake halt. If thou do touch it, I\nam surely lost; and if thou spare it, saved. I might have slain it, and\nyet did not so; something now tells me I held not my hand in vain. Let\nit, then, go its course; and keep my men from coming on too near.\u201d\n\n\u201cMy lord,\u201d Sir Gawain answered him with tears, \u201cmust I, then, let you\nperish without help?\u201d\n\n\u201cThe best of help,\u201d the king rejoined, \u201cwill be to do my bidding.\u201d\n\nSir Gawain was at this so much incensed, he cast down lance and shield,\nhe tore his cloak and handfuls from his hair.\n\nJust {023}at this time Ivan and Tristrem came, with lances lowered, and\nat top of speed; Gawain threw up his hands, and loudly cried:\n\n\u201cStrike not, my lords, for his, King Arthur's sake; he's a dead man if\nyou but touch the beast.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat, then, are we to do?\u201d inquired they.\n\n\u201cWe'll follow it,\u201d quoth Gawain: \u201cif the king be hurt, the beast shall\ndie.\u201d\n\nThe monster still kept on its even way, not seeming to remark the\nknights, until a rock it reached, lofty and round and high. It scaled\nit, as a swallow, rapidly; and Gawain and his friends, who at a distance\nfollowed, sad and full of thought, saw it, when thus the summit\nwas attained, crawl straight towards a peak which overhung. There,\nstretching out its head, it held the king suspended o'er the abyss.\nJudge the alarm of Gawain and his friends, who each beside was almost\nwild with rage! Hearing their cries, they who remained behind came up\nfull spur, and reached the lofty rock, where, at the summit, they beheld\nthe king hanging thus helpless from the monster's horns. They then\ngave loose to the most doleful cries that ever had been heard. I cannot\npicture to you their despair. Brave knights and pages then you might\nhave {024}seen tearing their hair and rending their attire, that wood\nreviling and the strange adventure which they had come to seek. And Quex\nexclaimed, by way of final stroke:\n\n\u201cAlas! fair chivalry, how hard thy lot! this day to cause the death of\nour good king, and lose thy valour when 'twas needed most!\u201d\n\nSaying these words he sank upon the ground. The king, however, still\nremained suspended in mid air, the beast meanwhile not offering to stir.\nThe monarch feared to drop in that abyss; and in low voice he prayed the\nsaints and God to save him from this pass. Then Gawain, Tristrem, and I\nknow not who beside, took counsel how they might heap up their robes, so\nas to break the brave King Arthur's fall. Gawain had scarce proposed it\nto the crowd than each one doffed his garments speedily.\n\nIn haste they brought their cloaks and mantles gay; stripped off with\neagerness their doublets, hose; and in an instant every knight was bare:\nsuch was the heap of garments 'neath that rock, the king had fallen\nwithout deadly risk. When this the beast beheld, it stirred as though it\nwould draw back, and slightly shook its head. The crowd below, alarmed,\nat {025}once upraised a cry; and on their bended knees prayed Heaven\nto guard the king, and bear him safe and sound. The beast with mighty\nspring then leaped below; and setting Arthur free, itself it changed\ninto a handsome knight, in scarlet richly dad from head to heel. This\nnoble bent his knee before the king, and smiling said:\n\n\u201cMy liege, command your men their garments to resume; they now may dine\nin peace; though somewhat late, the adventure has been found.\u201d\n\nArthur amazed, nay, half-distraught at this adventure strange, now\nrecognised the knight,--a courtly guest, esteemed among the brave, the\ncourteous, and the sage.\n\nAdroit in arms, gay, graceful, and beloved; among the first in strife,\nyet kind and modest too,--this lord was master of the seven arts, and\nin all spells was versed. For some time past between him and the king a\ncompact stood, whereby it was agreed, if he himself transformed when all\nthe court was met, he should as guerdon three good gifts receive--a cup\nof gold, a charger of great price, and from the fairest damsel a sweet\nkiss.\n\nGawain at once ran up, fearing his uncle in his fell {026}was crushed;\nand you may safely judge of his surprise--finding him thus, in high good\nhumour, stand loud laughing with the beast.\n\n\u201cIn faith, fair friend,\u201d quoth he, \u201cyou can indeed enchant poor folks,\nand force even barons to throw off their clothes.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou may resume them, good my lord,\u201d said the enchanter in the same gay\ntone; \u201cfor lo! the king no longer needs their use.\u201d\n\nThey did indeed soon put them on again, nor stayed to pick or choose;\nthe court at once returned to fair Carlisle, the monarch and Sir Gawain\nriding on a-head. The palace-walls soon echoed with their joy. The pages\nbrought them wherewithal to wash, and soon the knights were placed about\nthe board. Grand was that court, and rich and brave and good; many a\npuissant name, full many a king, and many a duke and count, were seated\nthere. Gawain the valiant knight and Ivan the well-bred, each holding\nthe queen's arm, then led her in, where, at the table, sat she 'neath\nthe king. Gawain then placed himself the other side, and Ivan by the\nqueen: at once with laughter they began to tell of the enchanter's\nskill; and when Queen Guenever, and they, the knights who were {027}not\nin the wood, had learned the doings there, they were indeed surprised;\nand soon loud laughed and chatted with the rest. Meanwhile Sir Quex\nbefore the king and fair Queen Ghieneyer the golden dishes placed;\nhe then sat down to eat his own good meal, for he did boast a famous\nappetite, while ready pages served the other knights. Nothing was\nwanting at that banquet high: the roebuck, kid, and succulent wild-boar;\nthe crane, the bustard, capons, swans, wild-geese; peacocks, and fine\nfat hens and partridges; white bread and purest wine,--of all good\nthings the best was there beheld. Served by a host of graceful youths\nbeside, the guests did honour to the feast.\n\nEating and drinking then engaged each thought; when straight there\nentered, mounting a fleet horse, with spotted robe, a youthful squire,\ntall and of noble mien. Never, do I believe, was man more finely-shaped.\nHis shoulders were at least two cubits broad, his features regular, his\neyes were sparkling, full of love and mirth; his hair was shining as\nthe brightest gold, his arms were large and square, his teeth as ivory\nwhite. His frame, which tapered at the waist, was well developed,\nand displayed his strength. His legs were long and straight, and feet\nhigh-arched.\n\nHis {028}violet and well-cut robe rested in graceful folds on hose of\nthe same hue. A garland of fresh flowers crowned his brows, to which the\nsun had given a deeper tint, heightening the colour of his ruddy cheeks.\n\nEntering the hall, he alighted from his horse, and came with quick and\njoyous step to kneel at the good monarch's feet. He then his purpose\nopened with these words:\n\n\u201cMay He who made this world and all it holds; He who no suzerain\nhath,--now save the king, and all that 's his!\u201d\n\n\u201cFriend,\u201d replied Arthur, \u201cthank thee for those words; if thou dost seek\na boon, it shall be thine.\u201d\n\n\u201cMy liege, I am a squire, come from far unto your court, because I knew\nso doing I should meet the best of kings; and I conjure you for St.\nMary's sake, if you so please, to arm me now a knight.\u201d\n\n\u201cFriend,\u201d said the king, \u201carise, and take thy seat; it shall be done\nthee even as thou wilt.\u201d\n\n\u201cNever, my liege, if you permit, will I uprise from hence till you have\ngranted me the boon I ask.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is conceded,\u201d then exclaimed the king.\n\nThe squire arose as these fair words were said, and went {029}to take\nhis place at that rich board. But scarcely was this done, than lo! the\nguests beheld a knight, well armed, and on a charger fleet, come riding\nin. Crossing the hall, he with his lance did strike a lord upon the\nbreast, and stretched him dying just before the queen. He then rode out,\nexclaiming as he went:\n\n\u201cThis have I done to shame thee, wicked king. If it do grieve thee, and\nthy boasted knights should care to follow, I am Taulat Lord of Rugimon;\nand each passing year, on this same day, will I return to do thee the\nlike scorn.\u201d\n\nGood Arthur drooped his head, enraged, yet sad; but then the squire\nrose, and knelt before the king:\n\n\u201cSire,\u201d he said, \u201cnow give me knightly arms, that I may follow up that\nhaughty lord who casts dishonour on this royal court.\u201d\n\n\u201cFriend,\u201d exclaimed Quex at this, \u201cyour courage will be higher when\nyou're drunk. Sit yourself down again, and drink another bout; the heart\nwill be the merrier, and you can better floor a knight with wine than\nwith a sharp-edged sword, however stout!\u201d\n\nThe squire to this responded not a word, out of his duty for the worthy\nking; but for such cause, Quex had {030}for his speech paid dear.\nArthur, however, gave his anger vent, and thus exclaimed:\n\n\u201cWilt thou, then, Quex, ne'er hold that biting tongue until I've driven\nthee from out my court? What has emboldened thee to speak thus vilely,\nand to a stranger who a suit prefers? Canst thou not keep within thee\nall the spite, the envy, wicked words, and slanderous thoughts with\nwhich thou art swelling o'er?\u201d\n\n\u201cMy lord,\u201d the squire said, \u201cpray let him have his say; little heed\nI the flings of his forked tongue, for which I will a noble vengeance\nseek. Vile word ne'er sullieth honour. Let me rather have a suit of\narms, to follow him who now has issued hence; for I do feel I shall not\neat at ease till he and I have met in deadly fight.\u201d\n\nThe monarch courteously replied:\n\n\u201cMy friend, I willingly will give thee steed, good arms, and knightly\nspurs; for thou dost ask these gifts as squire of gentle birth. But thou\nart all too young to fight with him who now has left this hall. Not four\namong the knights of my Hound Table can dare to meet his blows, or touch\nhim in the field. Leave, then, this care to others; I should grieve to\nlose at once so stout and brave a squire.\u201d\n\n\u201cSince, {031}sire, you think me stout, and call me brave, 'tis\nwrongfully or but to jeer you wish to stay my fighting; but in that\nyou'll not succeed save you refuse to grant the boon erewhile you\npromised me;--and should a king forget his promise made, gone are his\nlustre and his courtesy.\u201d\n\nThe monarch answered:\n\n\u201cFriend, I yield me to thy ardent wish; thou shalt be armed a knight.\u201d\n\nHe then commanded two attendant squires at once go seek his armour,\nlance, a fine and tempered shield, the casque, the sharp-edged sword,\nthe spurs, and horse of price in full caparison; then, when they brought\nthe arms and horse, he caused the squire to put the hauberk on, he\nbuckled his right spur, girded his sword upon the youth's left flank,\nand having kissed him gently on the mouth, he asked of him his name.\n\n\u201cSire, in the land where I was born my name is Jaufry, son of Dovon.\u201d\n\nThe king, on hearing him speak thus, sighed heavily, and said, while\ntears were in his eye:\n\n\u201cAh! what a knight and lord of mark was this same Dovon! He was of my\ntable and my court. A {032}brave knight and a learned: never had he\nsuperior in arms. None were held stouter or more dread in fight. May\nGod, if He so will it, grant him grace; since for my sake he died! An\narcher pierced his heart with a steel bolt, while he a keep held out on\nmy domain in Normandy.\u201d\n\nMeanwhile a squire brought Jaufry a bay steed. The young knight placed\nhis hand upon the bow, and leaped upon the horse, all armed as he then\nstood, without the use of stirrup; then called he for his shield and\nlance, consigned the king to God, and having taken leave of all the\nrest, he galloped from that hall.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II. ESTOUT DE VERFEIL.\n\nThe {033}charger, which was fleet and fair to view, started off like an\narrow from its bow. So that, as Jaufry left the castle-gates, he hoped\nhe yet should overtake the knight; and therefore cried aloud to two men\non the way:\n\n\u201cGood fellows, if you can, tell me the road just taken by the lord who\nleft the castle yonder even now. If naught prevent you, point me out the\nway.\u201d\n\nOne of those men replied:\n\n\u201cSpeak you of him whose armour was so bright?\u201d\n\n\u201cThe same,\u201d quoth Jaufry.\n\n\u201cHe is on before; you start too late, sir knight, to catch him up.\u201d\n\n\u201cBy Heaven!\u201d murmured Jaufry, much aggrieved, \u201che cannot flee so far,\nor sink so deep, but I will reach {034}him. I'll seek him the world\nthrough, where land and sea are found, and will discover his retreat\neven beneath the earth!\u201d\n\nThis said, he held his course; and spurring, came to a broad causeway\nwhere fresh prints of horses' hoofs appeared upon the dust.\n\n\u201cMethinks,\u201d said Jaufry, \u201cthat a knight ere-while hath passed this way:\nso I will follow up this selfsame road while thus the trail is seen.\u201d\n\nPutting his horse into an ambling pace, he rode on all that day without\na town or castle being met. At eventide he still continued on, when a\nloud cry, followed by din of arms and clash of steel on helm, suddenly\nrose from out the heavy shade.\n\nJaufry spurred readily towards the spot, and cried:\n\n\u201cWho are ye, lords, who at this hour do fight? Reply, since eyes of man\ncannot behold you.\u201d\n\nBut no one replied; and when, as fits a bold and venturous man, he\nreached the place whence came the clashing noise, the fight was over and\nthe din had ceased. Whilst then he listened, seeing naught, and at the\nsilence wondering, there rose from out the shade deep sighs and moans;\nwhen, stooping forward, he made out {035}a knight so sadly hurt the soil\nwas bathed in blood.\n\n\u201cKnight,\u201d cried Jaufry to the corpse, \u201cit grieves me not to know thy\nslayer, or whether thou wert wrong or whether right: thou art now dead;\nbut if I can, I even will learn why, and by whose hand.\n\n\u201cKnight,\u201d he exclaimed, \u201cspeak, and inform me for what, and by whom,\nthou hast been so sorely used.\u201d The wounded man could not e'en stir his\nlips or move a limb; his arms grew stiff; and, with two fearful groans,\nhe yielded up the ghost.\n\n[Illustration: 051]\n\n\u201cKnight,\u201d then cried Jaufry to the corpse, \u201cit grieves me not to know\nthy slayer, or whether thou wert wrong or whether right: thou now art\ndead; but if I can, I even will learn why and by whose hand.\u201d He then\ndeparted, and resumed his way, now on the trot and now at ambling pace,\nstopping at intervals to bend his ear and give a look around. For some\ntime nothing met his ear or eye; but, after having ridden for a space, a\nnoise of battle once again assailed him. Steel, wood, and iron met with\nsuch dread force, it seemed as though the thunder vexed the air, and\nthat this din proclaimed the bursting storm. At once, then, to the side\nfrom whence it came Sir Jaufry turned his horse; and, with his shield\nabout his neck, his lance in rest prepared, he spurred with ardour on,\nfor, in his mood, it seemed as though he ne'er should learn who slew the\nknight and who were they that fought. On, then, to {036}that affray he\nhotly came; but to behold, stretched stiff upon the ground, a knight all\narmed, whose casque and head beside had by a single blow been cloven\nto the teeth, while his steel hauberk was all red with gore. Jaufry his\nvisor raised, and touched him with his lance; but, seeing no life was\nthere, exclaimed with grief:\n\n\u201cHeaven! shall I, then, never know whose hand hath slain these knights?\u201d\n\nFull of impatience he resumed his course; and when he far had ridden,\nlit upon another knight, whose body was so shattered with his hurts that\nblood and life were oozing fast away. Moved deeply at his cries and sad\nlaments, Jaufry drew near, and kindly asked what hand had dealt such\nmeasure to himself and the two others slain, and which side was moreover\nin the wrong?\n\n\u201cAlas!\u201d the wounded man made answer with a sigh, \u201cI will explain to you\nthe simple truth. It is Estout, the master of Verfeil, who has reduced\nus to the state you see, to feed his pride. This knight is known so\nquarrelsome and fierce, that without mercy and without a cause he doth\nassault all comers far and near.\u201d\n\n\u201cTell {037}me,\u201d said Jaufry, \u201cwas he wrong in this?\u201d\n\n\u201cI will, my lord, with Heaven's help, and that without e'en lying by\na word. I and my friends were going to our rest, when Estout to my\ncastle-gates, hard by, rode up, and bade us high defiance. Had it been\nday, we should have tarried long ere venturing forth; for we did know\nhim master of such skill, that few as yet could e'er make head against\nhim,--so merciless beside, as never in his lifetime ever known to grant\nhis foeman grace: seeing him not, the bridge was lowered, and at once\nwas passed. He, having drawn us far upon the road,--the better for the\ntreacherous ends he had,--suddenly stopped, and turning, with lance\ncouched on him who pressed him nearest, stretched him dead upon the\nearth.\n\n\u201cBy this time we had recognised Estout, and turned our horses' heads;\nbut he with threatening words pursued us close, and reaching my\ncompanion, slew him with a blow. He then his rage concentrated on me,\nand with such fierceness, thinking my end come, I missed my aim, the\nlance just glancing from his shield; but he with one stroke bore me\nfrom my horse, and three times struck me as I helpless lay, so that,\n{038}good faith, he little life hath left. This, my good lord, is how\nthe thing hath happed.\u201d\n\n\u201cKnow you,\u201d asked Jaufry, full of thought, \u201cthe road he took, and where\nhe may be met?\u201d\n\n\u201cMy lord, I cannot tell; but little do I doubt that you will find him\nearlier than you wish. Haste, then, to fly such presence; for believe,\nyou cannot gain thereby aught else but iron: an you take my advice,\nyou'll change your route.\u201d\n\n\u201cChange my route, say ye?\u201d quoth Sir Jaufry; \u201cno, by my troth; nay more,\nI will but follow him the closer up; and, should I catch this lord, we\npart not, he may rest assured, without a struggle; and without learning,\ntoo, which of us twain doth bear the stouter heart, the stronger arm, or\nwield the better sword.\u201d\n\nHe took his leave, with these words, of the knight; the latter prayed\nhim to pass by his keep and send him aid from thence.\n\n\u201cI will not fail,\u201d said Jaufry.\n\nTowards the manor of the dying man he took his way, and after some brief\nspace he saw high towers and two squires well armed, who mounted guard\nbefore a raised drawbridge.\n\n\u201cFriends,\u201d {039}he exclaimed to them, \u201cGod save you both!\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd you, my lord, from every harm,\u201d they said.\n\n\u201cI have sad message for you,\u201d added Jaufry, \u201cand bad news. Your lord is\nlying yonder sorely hurt; and his two comrades are both slain. Estout\nde Verfeil has misused them thus. So hasten to your lord, who wants your\nhelp.\u201d\n\nHe then commended them to God, and parted in all haste. Jaufry resumed\nhis way, now trotting hard and now at ambling pace, until he reached a\nvalley deep and dark. There he beheld the blaze of a great fire, round\nwhich were met a numerous company. Trusting he might get tidings there\nof Estout and of Taulat,--for truly counted he on fighting both,--he\nstraightway rode to where the fire was, and found there figures that\nawaked surprise. Lords in rich vestments roasted a wild-boar; meanwhile,\nby dwarfs, stunted and out of shape, the spit was turned.\n\n\u201cGood sirs,\u201d said Jaufry civilly, \u201ccould I but learn from some of you\nwhere I may meet a lord I have followed this night through?\u201d\n\n\u201cFriend,\u201d exclaimed one in answer, \u201cit may be we can tell you when we\nknow his name.\u201d\n\n\u201cI {040}seek,\u201d said Jaufry, \u201cEstout de Verfeil, and Taulat called the\nLord of Rugimon.\u201d\n\n\u201cFriend,\u201d said the knight with courtesy, \u201cfrom hence depart, and that\nwith greatest speed; for should Estout but chance to meet you here thus\narmed, I would not give a denier for your life. He is so valiant and\nso stout of limb, that never yet hath he encountered foe who could make\nhead against him. All these you see around are knights of proof, and can\nmeet sturdy blows; natheless he hath subdued us all, and we are forced\nto follow him on foot wherever choice or venture leads him on. We're now\nengaged preparing him his food; so I advise you to depart at once.\u201d\n\n\u201cNot so, indeed,\u201d said Jaufry; \u201cI came not here to flee. Before I turn\nmy face, my shield shall be destroyed, my hauberk riven, and my arm so\nbruised it cannot wield a blade.\u201d\n\nWhilst thus they held discourse, behold Estout arrived full spur, and,\nat the sight of Jaufry, cried aloud: \u201cWho art thou, vassal, who thus\ndar'st to come and meddle with my men?\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd who are you,\u201d said Jaufry in reply, \u201cwho use such pleasant words?\u201d\n\n\u201cThou shalt know that anon.\u201d\n\n\u201cAre {041}you Estout?\u201d\n\n\u201cI am, indeed.\u201d\n\n\u201cFull long have I been seeking you throughout this weary night, without\ne'er stopping in my course or closing eye.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd for what end hast thou thus sought me out?\u201d\n\n\u201cFor that I wish to know why thou hast slain the three knights on the\nroad; which act I take to be a sin and wrong.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd is it for this that thou art hither come? Thou wouldst have better\ndone to stay behind, for to thy ruin do I meet thee here; thou shalt\nthis instant lose that head of thine, or follow me on foot like yonder\nknights who patter humbly at my horse's heels. Deliver, therefore, up\nto me thy shield, thy breastplate, and thy sword, and the bay horse that\nbrought thy body here.\u201d\n\n\u201cMy care shall be to guard them with my life,\u201d quoth Jaufry. \u201c'Twas the\ngood king bestowed this courser on me when he armed me knight. As to the\nshield, thou shalt not have it whole; nor e'en the hauberk, without\nrent or stain. Thou tak'st me for a child, whom thy poor threats can\nfrighten: the shield, the hauberk, and the horse, are not yet thine; but\nif they {042}please thee, try a bout to win them. As to thy threats, I\nscorn them: 'threats,' saith the proverb, 'often cover fear.'\u201d\n\nEstout drew off his horse at these bold words, and Jaufry nerved him to\nsustain the shock; then ran they at each other with their utmost speed.\nEstout struck Jaufry on the shield's bright boss, and with such mighty\nstrength, that through the riven metal went the lance, breaking the\nmail which guarded his broad chest, and grazing e'en the skin. Jaufry\nmeanwhile had struck his foe in turn, and with so just an aim, he lost\nat once his stirrups and his seat, and rolled halfstunned upon the\nground.\n\nHe rose again full quickly, pale with rage, and came with upraised sword\ntowards Jaufry. The latter, wishing his good horse to spare, at once\nleapt on the sod and raised his shield. 'Twas just in time: Estout, in\nhis fierce rage, brandished his sword with both his hands, and made it\nthunder down with such effect the shield was cloven to the arm.\n\n\u201cSt. Peter!\u201d murmured Jaufry, \u201cthou dost covet this poor shield; still,\nif naught stay me, it shall cost thee dear.\u201d\n\nSuiting to such words the act, upon Estout's bright casque {043}he then\nlet fly so fierce a downward stroke, that fire issued therefrom. But the\ngood helm of proof was not a whit the worse. With gathering fury Estout\ncame again, and with one stroke pared from Sir Jaufry's shield the\ndouble rim, full half a palm of mail, and the left spur, which was cut\nthrough as the blade reached the ground.\n\nWondering at the vigour of his dreadful foe, Jaufry, on his side, struck\na second time his burnished helm; and with such force, his sword\nin twain was broken, yet left it not upon the trusty steel even the\nslightest dent.\n\n\u201cHeaven!\u201d thought Jaufry, \u201cwhat doth this portend? confounded be the\nhand that helmet wrought, whereon my blade hath spent itself in vain!\u201d\n\nThen Estout, uttering a fearful cry as he beheld Sir Jaufry's sword in\ntwo, flew straight towards him, and in his turn struck the son of Dovon\non the helm, smashing the visor as the blow came down. Had he not\nraised in time the remnant of his shield, which that fell stroke for aye\ndestroyed, the combat had been done.\n\n[Illustration: 061]\n\n\u201cKnight,\u201d said Sir Jaufry, \u201cthou dost press me sore; and I, good sooth,\nmust be indeed bewitched; strike {044}as I will upon that helm of thine,\nI cannot crack its shell.\u201d\n\nAs thus he spoke, he launched a desperate blow with what was left him of\nhis blade; which, falling on the casque of his stout foe like hammer on\nan anvil, for the time deprived him both of sight and sound. With dizzy\neye and tottering step, Estout, thinking to strike at Jaufry, whom he\nwould have cloven to the heel had he received the blow, let fall his\nsword with such unbounded rage, it struck into the ground, and buried\nhalf its blade. Before he could withdraw it, the young knight, casting\naside the battered shield and broken sword, seized with both arms Estout\nabout the waist, and that with such good-will, his very ribs were heard\nto crack within. To cast him to the ground, undo his helm, and seize his\nsword to strike off his foe's head, were but an instant's work.\n\nEstout, who moved not, cried with feeble voice:\n\n\u201cMercy, good knight! O, slay me not, but take of me such ransom as thou\nwilt; I own that thou hast vanquished me.\u201d\n\n\u201cThou shalt have mercy,\u201d Jaufry then replied, \u201can thou do'st that which\nI shall now command.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt {045}shall be done most willingly, my lord; thou canst not ask a\nthing I will not do.\u201d\n\n\u201cIn the first place,\u201d said Jaufry, \u201cthou shalt go and yield thyself\na captive to King Arthur, with all these knights, to whom thou must\nrestore what thou hast ta'en from them; and thou shalt then relate to\nthat good king how I have thus o'ercome thee in the fight.\u201d\n\n\u201cI will do so full willingly, by Heaven!\u201d Estout replied.\n\n\u201cAnd now,\u201d said Jaufry, \u201cgive to me thine arms; for mine have been all\nhacked and hewed by thee.\u201d\n\n\u201cAgreed, my lord. Give me your hand: the bargain shall be kept; and well\ncan I aver, without a lie, that ne'er did knight boast armour such\nas mine. Many's the blow may fall upon this helm, yet never pass it\nthrough; no lance can dim this shield or pierce this mail; and for this\nsword, so hard is it of temper, iron nor bronze nor steel resists its\nedge.\u201d\n\nJaufry then donned these valuable arms; and whilst he buckled on\nthe shining helm and burnished shield and girded the good sword, the\ncaptives of Estout came up to do him homage. They were two score in\nnumber, all of price and lofty lineage, who addressed him, 'mid warm\nsmiles of joy:\n\n\u201cFair {046}lord, what answer will ye that we make when good King Arthur\nasks the name of him who sets us free?\u201d\n\n\u201cYou will reply that Jaufry is his name,--Jaufry the son of Dovon.\u201d\n\nThis said, he ordered that his horse be led; for still he burned to\novertake Taulat. And though Estout and all the knights pressed him\nawhile to tarry, yet he stayed neither to eat nor take the least repose:\nfrom squires' hands receiving shield and lance, he took his leave, and\nwandered on his way.\n\nThe day came on both clear and beautiful; a bright sun rose on fields\nhumect with dew; charmed with the spring-tide and the matin hour, the\nbirds sang merrily beneath the verdant shade and conned their latin\nnotes. * Jaufry, natheless, went straight upon his road, still bent on\nfinding Taulat; for to him nor peace nor rest nor pleasure can e'er come\ntill that proud lord be met.\n\n          * E l'jom e clars e bel gentz\n          E l'solelz leva respondents\n          Lo matin que span la rosada,\n          E l's auzels per la matinada\n          E per lo temps qn'es en dousor,\n          Chantan desobre la verdor\n          E s'alegron en or latin....\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III. THE DWARF AND THE LANCE.\n\nAfter {047}Sir Jaufry had rode on his way, Estout his promise kept, and\nto each knight restored both horse and arms. That evening he set out for\nArthur's court, which he resolved to reach before the jousts and games\nand banquetings were o'er. Eight days had they been holden in those\nhalls when he arrived there with his company. 'Twas after dinner, as the\nking was seated with his lords, lending an ear to minstrels' tales and\nthe discourse of knights, who told of acts of lofty prowess done, that\nEstout came with that armed troop of knights. Having alighted at the\npalace-gates, they soon were led before the worthy king; when, kneeling\nat his feet, Estout expressed himself in terms like these:\n\n\u201cSure, may that high King who made and fashioned {048}all things, He,\nthe Lord of every sovereign, who hath nor peer nor mate, now save us in\nyour company!\u201d\n\n\u201cFriend,\u201d the king replied, \u201cGod save you, and your friends beside! Who\nare ye, and what come ye here to seek?\u201d\n\n\u201cMy lord, I will recount you the whole truth: from Jaufry, son of Dovon,\ncome we, to proclaim ourselves your captives, and submit to your just\nlaw. Sir Jaufry hath delivered all these knights, whom I had captured\none by one, and who were bound to follow me on foot,--for they had mercy\nonly on such terms; now he hath conquered me by force of arms.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd when thou last beheldst him,\u201d asked the king, \u201cby that true faith\nthou ow'st to gracious Heaven, say, was he well in health?\u201d\n\n\u201cYea, sire, by the troth I owe to you, believe, that eight days since,\narise to-morrow's sun, I left him sound, robust, and full of fire. He\nwould not even tarry to break bread; for he declared no food should pass\nhis lips, no joy, no pleasure, no repose be his, until the knight named\nTaulat he had found. He now is on his track; and I engage, that if he\nmeet him, and a chance do get to measure sword with sword, it will be\nstrange {049}an he not force him to cry grace; for I do not believe the\nworld doth own a braver knight, or one more strong in arms. I speak from\nproof, who dearly know his force.\u201d\n\n\u201cO Heaven, in which I trust,\u201d cried Arthur, as he clasped his hands,\n\u201cgrant me my prayer, that Jaufry fry safe and sound may back return!\nAlready is he known a doughty knight, and noble are the gifts he hither\nsends.\u201d\n\nLeave we now bold Estout to tell his tale, and turn we to our knight. I\nhave related how Sir Jaufry still went on seeking his foe by valley and\nby mount; yet neither spied nor heard he living man to give him tidings.\nHe rode on thus, nor met he man or beast till the high noon was passed.\nThe sun had now become intensely hot, and hardly could he bear its\nburning ray; still, neither sun, nor hunger, thirst, nor aught beside,\ncould cow his spirit. Determined not to stop upon his road till he had\nTaulat met, he still progressed, though ne'er a soul was seen.\n\nAs he pressed hotly on, some hours' riding found the youthful knight\nclose by a gentle hill shaded by one of nature's finest trees. Pendent\nthere hung from an outstretching bough a fair white lance of ash with\npoint {050}of burnished steel. Thinking a knight perchance was resting\nnear, Jaufry in that direction turned his horse, and galloped towards\nthe spot. When he had reached the bottom of the hill, he nimbly leapt\nhim down, and walked to the high tree; but, to his great surprise,\nno soul was there, naught save the lance suspended to the bough. With\nwonder then--asking of himself why arm so stout and good, the point of\nwhich like virgin silver shone, should there be placed--he took it down,\nand his own resting gainst the mossy trunk, handled and brandished this\nnew dainty lance, which he discovered to be good as fair.\n\n\u201cGood faith,\u201d quoth he, \u201cI will e'en keep this arm, and leave mine own\nbehind.\u201d\n\nWhilst making this exchange, a dwarf of frightful shape suddenly rushed\nfrom out a neighbouring grove. Stunted and broad and fat, he had a\nmonstrous head, from which straight hair streamed down and crossed his\nback; long eyebrows hid his eyes; his nose was large and shapeless;\nnostrils so immense they would have held your fists; and thick and\nbluish lips rested on large and crooked fangs; a stiff moustache\nsurrounded this huge mouth; and to his very girdle flowed {051}his\nbeard; he measured scarce a foot from waist to heel; his head was sunken\nin his shoulders high; and his arms seemed so short, that useless would\nhave been the attempt to bind them at his back. As to his hands, they\nwere like paws of toads, so broad and webbed.\n\n\u201cKnight,\u201d cried this monster, \u201cwoe befals the man who meddles with that\nlance! Thou wilt receive thy dues, and dangle on our tree; come, then,\ngive up thy shield.\u201d\n\nSir Jaufry eyed the dwarf, and angrily replied:\n\n\u201cWhat mean you by such tale, misshapen wretch?\u201d At this the dwarf set\nup so loud a cry that all the vale resounded; and at once a knight well\narmed, mounted upon a steed in iron cased, came, with high threats upon\nhis lips exclaiming:\n\n\u201cWoe to the man who hath dared touch the lance!\u201d\n\nHaving the hill attained, he Jaufry saw; and thereupon he said:\n\n\u201cBy Heaven, sir knight! to do what thou hast done is proof thou carest\nlittle for thy life.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd why so, lord?\u201d Sir Jaufry calmly asked.\n\n\u201cThou shalt soon learn. No man doth touch that lance {052}and get him\nhence without a fight with me. If I unhorse the knight so bold as dare\nto touch it, and conquer him by arms, no ransom saves his life,--I\nhang him by the neck; and on my gallows which thou seest from here full\nthree-and-thirty dangle in mid air.\u201d\n\n\u201cTell me now faithfully,\u201d Sir Jaufry said,--\u201ccan he who sues for mercy\ngain it at thy hands?\u201d\n\n\u201cYea, but on one condition I have firmly fixed; which is, that never in\nhis life he cross a horse; ne'er cut his hair or pare his nails; ne'er\neat of wheaten bread, or taste of wine; and never on his back wear other\ndress than what his hands have woven. Should he such terms accept before\nthe fight, he may perchance find grace; but naught can save the man who\nonce hath fought.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd if he know not how to weave such dress?\u201d asked Jaufry.\n\n\u201cThe art to weave, to shape the doth, and sew, must then be learned,\u201d\n the knight replied. \u201cSay, then, if thou consent; or if thou choose this\nhour to be thy last.\u201d\n\n\u201cI'll not do so,\u201d quoth Jaufry; \u201cfor too hard the labour seems.\u201d\n\n\u201cThou'lt do it well before five years are fled; for thou art tall and\nstrong.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, {053}by my troth, I'd rather chance the fight, since 'twould appear\nI've no alternative.\u201d\n\n\u201cTake my defiance, then!\u201d cried out the knight; \u201cand bear in mind, the\ncombat 's to the death.\u201d\n\n\u201cSo be it!\u201d said Sir Jaufry; \u201cI'll defend myself.\u201d\n\nThey drew apart some space with such-like words, each thinking on his\nside a victim soon would fall. Then the knight came and thundered at his\nfoe. In shivers flew the lance; but Jaufry bore the shock unmoved. Not\nso the knight; for Jaufry, his weapon planting at his shield, broke it\nright through; the hauberk too beside, and wood and iron, for a cubit's\nlength, pierced through the shoulder.\n\n[Illustration: 073]\n\nHe fell: Jaufry with naked blade was by his side; but as he saw him\nthus, so poorly sped,--\n\n\u201cKnight,\u201d he exclaimed, \u201cmethinks thy hanging-trade is done.\u201d\n\n\u201cLord,\u201d cried the wounded man, \u201cunhappily 'tis true. Thou hast too well\nperformed thy work for safety henceforth to be banished hence.\u201d\n\n\u201cI will not trust to that,\u201d quoth Jaufry; \u201cor at least, it shan't\nprevent my hanging thee.\u201d\n\n\u201cIn Heaven's name, my lord, I crave thy grace!\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd by what claim canst thou obtain it, thou who {054}never yet hast\ngranted it to man? Thou shalt find pity, such as those yonder found who\nonce begged grace of thee.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf, good my lord, my head have erred, my heart been black and habits\nvillanous, guard thee from following in my steps. I ask for mercy--that\nshould I receive. Wilt thou, a man of lofty virtue, choose that ever the\nreproach should come to thee of hanging up a brave and courteous knight,\nsuch as I once did bear the title of?\u201d\n\n\u201cThou liest in thy throat,\u201d Sir Jaufry said; \u201cnever couldst thou be\nprized a proper knight, but rather, I believe, an arrant knave. Who doth\na villain's act doth forfeit rank and chivalry alike. In vain thy suit;\nno pardon shalt thou find.\u201d\n\nUndoing his steel helmet as he spoke, he seized a rope and placed it\nround his neck; then, dragging him beneath the dismal tree, he well and\nfairly hung him up thereto.\n\n\u201cGood friend,\u201d he then apostrophised the knight, \u201cthe passage now may be\nconsidered safe, and travellers need fear little more from thee.\u201d\n\n[Illustration: 076]\n\nLeaving him hanging upon such adieu, he rode towards the dwarf, as with\nintent to kill. But when the latter {055}saw him thus return, crossing\nhis arms full quickly on his breast,--\n\n\u201cFair sir,\u201d he cried, \u201cI yield to you and Heaven; but grant me, pray,\nyour pity. Of myself no evil have I done; since, had I disobeyed the\nknight, I should have lost my life. Maugre myself, for fourteen years\nI've watched this lance, which twice a-day I burnished. Woe had betided\nme if I had bilked such task, or failed by signal to advise my lord when\nit was touched by knight. This, fair my lord, hath been my only crime.\u201d\n\n\u201cThou mayst have mercy,\u201d Jaufry said, \u201can thou dost that which I shall\nnow command.\u201d\n\n\u201cSpeak, good my lord; and God confound me if I lose a word!\u201d\n\n\u201cRise, then, and hie thee to King Arthur's court. Tell to that king the\nson of Dovon sends thee, and presents this lance which he hath won, the\nfairest weapon eye hath e'er beheld. Recount to him beside thy lord's\nill-deeds, how that so many worthy knights he'd hung, and how in his\nturn like meed was given unto him.\u201d\n\n\u201cMy lord,\u201d exclaimed the dwarf, \u201call this I promise you.\u201d\n\nAnd Jaufry made reply, \u201cWell then, begone!\u201d\n\nIt {056}was one Monday eye that this fell out, just at the setting sun.\nThe night came shortly on serene and fair, and the full moon shone out\nas bright as day. Jaufry pursued his road,--for naught could change his\npurpose,--and the dwarf prepared to execute his trust. At peep of morn\nhe started for Carlisle, where, after certain time, he safely came. The\nking was breaking up his court, which for two weeks he there had held,\nand knights and barons all were going their way content and glad,\nbearing rich guerdons from their noble lord, when curiosity their steps\ndetained at sight of a strange dwarf, who in his hand a handsome lance\ndid hold. This dwarf pushed forward to the palace-hall, where each with\neager eye observed his shape; for never till that day had they beheld\nsuch wondrous man; but he, passing the gaping crowd without remark,\nstraight to the monarch's throne his steps pursued; and there he said:\n\n\u201cMay God, most noble sire, grant you weal! Albeit my form is strange,\nyet, please you, hear, for I do come a messenger from far.\u201d\n\n\u201cDwarf,\u201d said the king, \u201cGod save thee too! for thou methinks art\nhonest. Speak without fear, and do thy message featly.\u201d\n\nThe {057}dwarf preluded with a sigh, and thus began:\n\n\u201cSire, from Dovon's son I bear to you this lance, which has been cause\nof mourning dire and great. Proud of his valour and his strength, a\nknight had hung it to a tree upon a hill, where I have watched it,\nburnished it beside twice every day, for fourteen weary years. If a\nknight touched it, I by my cry aroused my lord, who then, all armed,\nwould rush upon the stranger; being vanquished, he was quickly seized\nand by the neck incontinently hung. 'Twas thus that three-and-thirty met\ntheir fate; when that the knight, whose messenger I am, conquered this\nlord and won the lance, hanging in turn its owner for his deeds. This is\nthe lance that now he sends to you; and here am I, your vassal and your\nslave.\u201d\n\n\u201c'Tis well,\u201d the king replied; \u201cbut, dwarf, now give me, on thy faith,\nsome news of brave Sir Jaufry: without a lie, say when thou saw'st him\nlast.\u201d\n\n\u201c'Twas Monday evening, please you, my good lord; I left him when the\nfray was o'er and he had finished hanging up the knight.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd was his health then good?\u201d\n\n\u201cYea, sire, with God's help, and well disposed and gay.\u201d\n\n\u201cGood {058}Lord divine and full of glory,\u201d cried the king with clasped\nhands, \u201cgrant of your grace that I behold him safe; for scant my\npleasure and my joys will be till I have held him in these arms again!\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV. THE YEOMAN.\n\nWe {059}now return to Jaufry, who still wanders on, resolving not to\nstay for food or sleep before he meets with Taulat; for in his ears\nincessantly do ring the biting words of Quex: \u201c_Your courage will be\nhigher when you're drunk,_\u201d--and he yet trusts to prove that lord did\nlie by beating Taulat fasting. Onward he therefore pricked till midnight\nhour, when he attained a narrow and dark gorge shut in on either side by\nmountains high. No other passage was there but this one. Sir Jaufry gave\nhis horse the spur; when, at the very mouth of the defile, before him\nstood a yeoman, active, of stout build and large of limb, who held\nwithin his grasp three pointed darts that were as razors {060}sharp. A\nlarge knife pended from his girdle, which enclosed an outer garment of\ngood form and fashion.\n\n\u201cHalt, knight,\u201d he cried; \u201cI'll have a word with thee.\u201d\n\n[Illustration: 084]\n\nJaufry drew rein, and said:\n\n\u201cAnd what's thy quest, good friend?\u201d\n\n\u201cThou must give up thy horse and knightly arms; for upon such condition\nonly mayst thou pass.\u201d\n\n\u201cIndeed,\u201d quoth Jaufry; \u201cdost thou mean to say an armed and mounted\nknight must not pass through this strait?\u201d\n\n\u201cHe might do so, but for the toll I've levied.\u201d\n\n\u201cTo the foul fiend such toll! Never will I give up my horse or arms,\ntill strength's denied me to defend them both.\u201d\n\n\u201cAn that thou yield'st them not with gentle grace,\u201d the yeoman said, \u201cI\nmust use force to take them.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd wherefore so? what harm have I e'er wrought thee?'\n\n\u201cDost thou not wish to pass this gorge, and bilk the toll that's due\nsave I use force to get it?\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd what's the force thou'lt use?\u201d\n\n\u201cThat {061}thou shalt briefly see; meantime I bid thee 'ware my hand!\u201d\n\n\u201cI will do so,\u201d quoth Jaufry.\n\nThe yeoman now prepared himself for fight, and seized his dart as though\nin act to strike; but Jaufry, fearing for his horse, awaited not the\nblow, but gal-loped off amain. As o'er the road he sped, the man let\nfly the missile with just aim; it hit the shield, and that with force\nso great, red fire and flame forth issued at the stroke, which did not\npierce it through. The sharpened point curled upwards on the steel, and\nthe wood flew in shivers.\n\nSir Jaufry turned his steed at once and bore down on his foe, counting\nfull surely that the fight was done; but, lo, at that instant he had\nleapt aside, and in the act discharged a second dart, which lighted on\nhis helm; so fierce the stroke, the casque seemed all on fire; yet it\nresisted, though its lord was stunned.\n\nThe yeoman, seeing his second blow had failed, was as a man possessed;\nso dread his rage as neither to have hurt the knight or broken his\nbright arms. Jaufry, whose senses had now back returned, thought only of\nhis horse, which he rode here and there to guard it from the blow of the\nthird dart. Not this, however, was his foe's {062}intent, for he still\nthought to take the beast alive; like lightning swift he came, and\nwhirling round the dart, launched the fell weapon with these haughty\nwords:\n\n\u201cBy Heaven, slave, thou now shalt leave the horse, nor shall thy\nhauberk, helm, or shield protect thyself!\u201d Jaufry wheeled round his\nhorse at this stem threat; and as the dart came hissing to its prey, he\ndeftly bowed him down; it harmed him not, but striking on his mail, tore\nfrom the goodly arms a palm away, then bounded out of view.\n\n\u201cAnd now,\u201d cried Jaufry, the third dart being flung, \u201cmy lance's point\nshall give me my revenge.\u201d With lowered lance he flew towards the man,\ntrusting this time to pierce him through and through; but he was nimble\nas a roe or deer, and leapt from place to place to such effect, that\nJaufry missed his aim; and as he passed, the yeoman seized a rock and\nhurled it at the knight, who, but for his shield, must fain have bit the\nground. The mass in atoms flew; but such the force with which the blow\nwas struck, it battered-in the shield. Jaufry, enraged at following such\na foe, now doubly maddened at this fresh attack, in wrath exclaimed:\n\n\u201cGod, {063}thou all-glorious King! how shall I meet this fiend? The\nworld I'll hold not at a denier's price till he doth sue for grace!\u201d\n\nThen wielding his long lance,--\n\n\u201cThis time,\u201d he loudly to the yeoman cried, \u201cor thou or I shall fall.\u201d\n\nThe yeoman from his girdle plucked his knife, and made reply:\n\n\u201cEre that thou leave this spot thou'lt pay the toll!\u201d\n\n\u201cAy, that will I,\u201d quoth Jaufry, \u201ctake my promise on't; before we part,\nthou shalt have toll enough!\u201d\n\nHe once again renewed a brisk attack, but still the other dodged; and\nere that Jaufry could draw-in the rein, with mighty spring upon the\nhorse he leapt and round Sir Jaufry's body twined his arms.\n\n\u201cStir not, sir knight,\u201d he cried, \u201cunless thou wish for death.\u201d\n\nWhen Jaufry felt himself thus rudely seized, his mind was in a maze, and\nfor a time incapable of thought. The yeoman held him with such strait\nembrace he could not stir a limb, while in his ear he hissed his future\nfate: how that a prison should his {060}body hold, where tortures,\ngriefs, unheard-of pains, should vex him evermore. Till break of day his\narms were round him clasped; but when the stars were gone, then Jaufry\ncommuned with himself and said:\n\n\u201cBetter to die for God, who made this earth, than let my body be a\ndungeon's prey. We'll see what can be done.\u201d\n\nReflecting thus, he let his lance drop down, and as the yeoman's\nright arm pressed him most with energy he clutched it in his grasp; so\nvigorous the attack, so nerved his strength, he forced the hand to loose\nthe gleaming knife: then, when he saw the arm was paralysed and drooped\ninertly down, he fixed with both hands on the yeoman's left, which he\nthen twisted till he caused such pain, its owner reeled in groaning to\nthe ground. Dismounting from his horse, Jaufry drew near his foe, who\nlay quite motionless crying for mercy in his agony.\n\n\u201cBy Heaven! which I adore,\u201d quoth Jaufry, \u201cne'er will I pity show to\nwretch like thee.\u201d\n\nAnd at the words he cut off both his feet.\n\n\u201cI prithee, now,\u201d he said, \u201crun not, nor leap, nor battle more with\nknights. Take to another trade; for far too long hath this one been thy\nchoice.\u201d\n\nHe {065}gathered up his lance and shield, and, mounting on his horse,\nprepared him quietly to go his way.\n\n'Twas on a Tuesday, early in the morn, that Jaufry held this speech; but\nas he turned him from his footless foe,--\n\n\u201cI have not yet inquired,\u201d he observed, \u201cif thou perchance hold'st\nknights within thy walls?\u201d\n\n\u201cMy lord,\u201d the man replied, \u201cfull five-and-twenty are there held in\nchains beyond the mount where stands my dwelling-place.\u201d\n\n\u201cO, O!\u201d said Jaufry, \u201cthese I must set free; it likes me not that thou\nshouldst guard such prize.\u201d Without delay he hied him to the house,\nwhose massive portals were thrown open wide; and to a dwarf who stood\nbefore the gates he cried:\n\n\u201cWhere lie the imprison'd knights?\u201d\n\nReplied the dwarf:\n\n\u201cMethinks you're all too rash to venture here. 'Tis more indeed than\nrashness,--downright folly. You wake my pity; therefore take advice, and\nget you gone before my lord returns, save that you covet an inglorious\ndeath, or torments even worse.\u201d\n\nJaufry with smiles replied:\n\n\u201cNay, {066}friend, I want the knights; quickly lead on, that I may break\ntheir chains.\u201d\n\n\u201cAn I mistake not, you will join their ranks ere you deliver them; and\nI must hold you as a fool distraught, not to have hied you hence; for\nshould my lord chance meet you by the way, deeply you'll grieve that\ne'er you ventured here.\u201d\n\n\u201cThy lord will ne'er return; I have deprived him of his nimble feet,\nand near his end he lies. The knights shall now be free, and thou, my\nprisoner, their place shalt take, save that thou goest where my bidding\nsends; then peradventure brief shall be thy thrall.\u201d\n\n\u201cSir knight,\u201d the dwarf replied, \u201csince, then, my lord is thus so poorly\nsped, I, by my faith, will follow your commands, and from great pain\nwill draw those suffering knights, whose language is but moans; this\nfeatly will I do, who by constraint and fear was here detained. Truly,\nto God and you we should give thanks, and joyfully obey what you\nordain.\u201d\n\n\u201cFirst, then,\u201d said Jaufry, \u201clead me to the knights.\u201d\n\nThe dwarf most gladly acted as his guide; and pacing on before, conveyed\nhim to a hall where five-and-twenty knights were rudely chained, as each\nby turns {067}had been the yeoman's prey. Jaufry on entering made them a\nsalute, to which not one replied; nay, they began to weep, and mutter in\ntheir teeth:\n\n\u201cAccurs'd the day that yeoman was e'er born, who thus hath overcome so\ngood a knight!\u201d\n\nBut Jaufry, as he gaily drew him nigh:\n\n\u201cWhy weep, fair knights?\u201d he said, with courtesy. \u201cGo, madman, go,\u201d did\none of them reply; \u201cfor sure thy senses must have left thee quite, to\nask us why we weep, when walls like these rise up on ev'ry side. There\nis not one of us who doth not grieve to see the yeoman's prisoner in\nthee. Unhappy was the day that saw thy birth. In person thou art tall\nand fair to view, yet soon like ours will torments be thy lot.\u201d Quoth\nJaufry, \u201cGreat is God; easy to Him can your deliverance be. Through Him\nmy sword hath 'venged you on your foe, and now the yeoman lies deprived\nof feet. If, then, you see me in this weary spot, 'tis but to break your\nchains.\u201d\n\nScarce had the words escaped from out his mouth, when loudly did they\ncall:\n\n\u201cHappy the day which dawned upon thy birth; for thou hast saved us all,\nand swept our pain and martyrdom away!\u201d\n\nThen {068}Jaufry bade the dwarf set free the knights; the manikin\nobeyed, and with a hammer broke in bits their chains. They all arose,\nand bowed their heads in token of submission, whilst they said:\n\n\u201cLord, we are thy serfs; do with us as thou please, be it for good or\nevil, as is fit.\u201d\n\n\u201cGood knights,\u201d Sir Jaufry said, \u201cwhate'er of evil may henceforth betide\nyou, none shall come from me. All that I ask of you is simply this, that\nye betake you to King Arthur's court, and tell him all you know.\u201d\n\n\u201cMy lord,\u201d they all exclaimed, \u201cfull willingly shall thy behest be done;\nbut to the service rendered, add one more by telling us thy name.\u201d\n\n\u201cBarons,\u201d said Jaufry then, \u201ctell him the son of Dovon burst your\nchains. Now quickly set ye out; and, mark, my friendship ne'er shall be\nbestowed, if that ye fail to tell the king each word.\u201d\n\nThe dwarf meanwhile had gone to seek the arms and fetch the steeds to\nfurnish forth the knights. Each donned his hauberk, mounted his good\nhorse, and then with Jaufry parted from that spot. He led them to the\ngreat highway, and in their company rode full a league. In passing by,\nhe pointed to the place where, cold and motionless, the yeoman lay: they\nstayed an instant {069}to observe their foe, then went upon their road.\nA little further Jaufry got him down, and tightened more his goodly\ncharger's girths; then, his impatience to fall in with Taulat reviving\nin full force:\n\n\u201cGod speed you, sirs,\u201d he said; \u201cI can delay no more; already have I\nwasted too much time.\u201d\n\n\u201cMy lord,\u201d replied the knights, as they presented him his shield and\nlance, \u201caccept again our thanks: where'er we be, the service thou hast\ndone in this great fight shall widely be proclaimed.\u201d\n\nWhen that the band had watched him out of sight, they went their way\nuntil they reached Carlisle. They found King Arthur in his flowery mead\nwith five-and-twenty of his primest knights. There, kneeling at\nhis feet, one of the troop was spokesman for the rest; and thus he\nfearlessly and sagely said:\n\n\u201cSire, so please it the true God, who knoweth all that every creature\ndoth, give you good luck, and guard from pain and ill the greatest king\nthis world doth now contain!\u201d\n\n\u201cFriend,\u201d the good king replied, \u201cGod and St. Mary keep thee and thy\nmates! Speak without fear, and tell me what thou wilt.\u201d\n\n\u201cSire, {070}we come to yield ourselves to thee, from Jaufry, Dovon's\nson; he hath delivered us from durance vile.\u201d\n\n\u201cGood sir, give me at once your tidings. Is't long since you and he have\nparted company?\u201d\n\n\u201cWe left him, sire, on Tuesday morning last, both safe and sound, ardent\nand full of strength, tracking a lord with whom he seeks to fight, and\nto avenge thy cause.\u201d\n\n\u201cO Lord, thou glorious Sire,\u201d said the king, with joined hands, \u201cgrant\nI may Jaufry see unchecked, unscathed; for, an I hold him not within six\nmonths, I'll prize my fortunes as of nothing worth!\u201d\n\nWhilst that the dwarf in turn begins his speech, to tell the king how\nthis adventure happed, we will go back to follow Jaufry's steps, who\nstill, unwearied, presses stoutly on.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V. THE CASTLE OF THE LEPER.\n\nThe {071}knight had rode for great part of the day beneath the rays of\na most burning sun, and horse and rider both alike fatigued, when he\nbeheld a young and handsome squire running towards him at his greatest\nspeed. Rent was his garment even to his waist; and on he came, with\nmadness in his looks, tearing by handfuls his fair curling hair.\n\nScarce did he make out Jaufry from afar when he exclaimed:\n\n\u201cFly, fly, brave knight, fly quickly from this spot, an that thou\nchoosest not to lose thy life!\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd wherefore so, fair friend?\u201d asked Dovon's son.\n\n\u201cFly, for the love of God, say I; nor lose thou further time.\u201d\n\n\u201cArt {072}thou, then, shorn of sense,\u201d exclaimed the knight, \u201csuch\ncounsel to propose, when I behold no foe?\u201d\n\n\u201cAh!\u201d cried the squire then, \u201che comes; he's there; nor think I in\na year to cure the fright that he hath caused me! He hath slain my\nlord,--a knight of price, who was conducting to his castle-home his\nlady-wife, a Norman count's most noble daughter. This wretch hath seized\nthe bride; and to myself has caused such dire fear, that ev'ry limb\nstill trembles at the shock.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd is't because _thou_ fearest,\u201d asked Sir Jaufry, red with rage,\n\u201cthou counsell'st flight to _me?_ By holy faith, I hold thee fool, and\nworse.\u201d\n\nAs he spoke thus, a leper came in sight, who sped along, a child within\nhis arms. Its wretched mother, with dishevelled hair, followed with\npiercing cries. When she beheld the knight, she knelt down at his feet,\nand in a tone of agony exclaimed:\n\n\u201cMercy, my lord; O, mercy! For the love of Heaven, grant me help, and\nget me back the child yon leper bears.\u201d\n\n\u201cWoman,\u201d responded Jaufry, \u201cwherefore takes he it?\u201d\n\n\u201cMy {073}lord, because it is his wicked will.\u201d\n\n\u201cHad he no other cause?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, by your glorious sire!\u201d\n\n\u201cSince it is thus,\u201d quoth Jaufry, \u201che is wrong; and I will try to win it\nback for you.\u201d\n\nHe spurred at once his horse, she following; and cried aloud, with all\nthe strength he had:\n\n\u201cHalt, leprous, wicked wretch! and bring thou back the child!\u201d\n\nThe leper turned his head and raised his hand, making the mark of scorn;\nwhich so enraged the knight, he swore the insult deeply to avenge. The\nhideous leper answered with a laugh; for he had reached the threshold of\nhis door. He darted in for refuge, followed full speed by Jaufry; who,\ndismounting from his horse, which with his lance he left to the poor\ndame, dashed through the castle-gate with sword in hand and shield upon\nhis arm.\n\nAs he was traversing the castle through, which he found vast and\nsumptuous to the view, he came into a hall where a huge leper, frightful\nto behold, had cast upon a couch a damsel in first youth, whose beauty\nin that age could scarce be matched. Her cheek was fresher than an\nopening rose at break of day, and her torn {074}vesture half-betrayed\na bosom snowy white. Her eyes were bathed in tears; her words, despair,\nand sobs, moved Jaufry's soul: but when the leper rose and seized his\nclub, such feelings changed to horror and surprise.\n\nHe was in height more tall than knightly lance, and at the shoulders was\ntwo fathoms broad: his arms and hands were huge, his fingers crookt and\nfull of knots, his cheeks were spread with pustules and with scales; a\nbroken pupil, eyes without lids but with vermilion edged, blue lips, and\nyellow teeth, made up the portrait of this monster dread. Fiercer than\nliving coal he flew on Jaufry, bidding him straight to yield.\n\n\u201cNo, certes,' the knight replied.\n\n\u201cSay, who in evil hour sent thee here?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo one.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd pray what seekest thou?\u201d\n\n\u201cA child, that from its mother hath been torn by lep'rous hands, which\nmust give up their prey.\u201d\n\n\u201cVain fool, 'tis _I_ forbid,--I, by whose mace thy fate shall now be\nsealed; better for thee thou hadst not risen the morn, since thou shalt\nnow for ever lay thee down.\u201d\n\nHis club he raised in uttering these words, and on the {075}shield of\nJaufry then let fall so fierce a blow, the knight went reeling to the\nground. Again that club was raised; but Jaufry rose and fled. Certes\nhe had cause to flee the stroke he saw impending; for that huge mass\nof iron as it fell made the vast hall to tremble. Then Jaufry, with a\nbound, before the leper stood, and with firm hand dealt him in turn a\nblow which took a palm from off his raiment and the flesh behind. Seeing\nhis blood, which fast began to stream, the giant uttered first a fearful\ncry, then ran at Jaufry, raising his knotted club with both his hands.\n\nScarce could the youthful knight evade the stroke and leap behind a\ncolumn; the monster struck it with such dire strength, the massive iron\ncrushed the marble plinth, and all the castle groaned.\n\nMeanwhile the damsel fervently prayed Heaven, as humbly on the\nblood-stained stones she knelt:\n\n\u201cO, mighty Lord, who in Thy image didst great Adam make; Thou who hast\ndone so much to save us all,--now save me from this wretch, and let yon\nknight withdraw me from his hands!\u201d\n\nHer orison scarce o'er, Jaufry stepped out, and ere the giant could\nagain his heavy club let fall, he with his trenchant blade had severed\nhis right arm. Being thus {076}lopped, the monster in his wrath and\nagony so loudly groaned, the palace trembled to its very base and shook\nthe outer air. In vain did Jaufry dodge his falling mace, it struck him\nto the ground; so that from nostrils, eyes, and mouth, the purple stream\nburst forth. The mace, in falling on the marble flags, now brake in\ntwain, which Jaufry seeing, he uprose in haste, and newly struck the\nleper; at the knee-joint he aimed; the monster reeled, then fell like\nsome great tree.\n\nProne as the leper lay, Jaufry ran up, his sword in air, and said:\n\n\u201cMethinks that peace will soon be made 'twixt you and me.\u201d\n\nThen letting fall his sword with both his hands, he clove the monster's\nhead e'en to the teeth. In the convulsions of his agony still fiercely\nstrove the wretch, and with his foot hurled him so madly 'gainst the\ndistant wall, Sir Jaufry fell deprived of sound and sight. His trembling\nhand no longer clutched his sword; like ruby wine, from nostrils and\nfrom mouth burst forth his blood, and motion made he none.*\n\n          * E l'mezel a si repennat,\n          Que tal cop l'a del pe donat,\n\nFor {077}an instant's space the damsel thought her champion was gone. In\ngrief she hastened to undo the straps which bound his polished casque.\nThe freshness drawing from his breast a sigh, she ran for water, and\nhis face she bathed. His senses half-re-turned, he staggered up, and\nthinking still to hold his trusty blade, he struck the damsel,--deeming\nher the foe,--to such effect that both rolled on the ground. Like madman\nthen he sped around the hall, and ran behind a column, where he crouched\nand trembled 'neath his shield.\n\n'Twas there the damsel came; and in a voice of dulcet tone, she said:\n\n\u201cBrave knight, come, ope again those manly eyes, and see who 'tis that\nspeaks. Forget ye what is due to chivalry, of which you are a lord? your\ncourage and your fame? Recall yourself, and lower that bright shield;\nbehold, the leper's dead!\u201d\n\n          C'a ana part, lo fas anar\n          E si ab la paret urtar\n          Que l'auzer li tolc e l'vezer\n          Et anet \u00e0 terra cazer\n          E l'sanc tot yin clar e vermeil\n          I eis per lo nas e la bocha.....\n\n          Ms. fol. 28 verso, verse 2461.\n\nJaufry {078}recovered at this heart'ning speech, and finding his head\nbare,--\n\n\u201cDamsel,\u201d he asked, \u201cwho hath removed my casque, and taken my good\nsword?\u201d\n\n\u201cMyself, good lord, whilst you were in a swoon.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe giant, what doth he?\u201d\n\n\u201cBathed in his blood and at your feet he lies.\u201d Jaufry looked up, and\nwhen the corpse he saw thus shattered and quite still, he slowly rose,\nand sat him on a bench until his senses were again restored; then, when\nthe dizziness had fled his brain, he thought upon the mother and the\nchild, and straightway ran from hall to hall to search the infant out.\nBut though he sought and ran and called aloud, neither the leper nor the\nchild appeared.\n\n\u201cI will yet search and search,\u201d he then exclaimed; \u201cor here or out the\ndoor they must be found; for I'll not hold me at a denier's worth till\nto the mother her poor child's restored, and I've had vengeance for that\nleper's scorn.\u201d\n\nWith such resolve, he strode towards the door; but though the portal was\nthrown open wide, he could not pass it through. Spite of his will, his\nefforts, and his strength, {079}his feet seemed stopped before an unseen\nbar.\n\n\u201cGood Heaven,\u201d he said, \u201cwhat! am I then entranced?\u201d\n\nHe drew him back, and gathering for a spring, with wond'rous force he\nbounded to the door. Still all was vain, he could not cross the sill.\nAgain and yet again he tried, till deep discouragement iced o'er his\nheart. Then tears broke from his eyes, and murmuring:\n\n\u201cAlas, good Lord,\u201d he said, \u201cThou gav'st me strength to kill yon wicked\nwretch; what boots it, if I here must captive be?\u201d\n\n'Twas as he thus bemoaned his adverse fate, there broke upon his ear\nfrom some nigh place a sound of infant tongues, which sadly cried:\n\n\u201cSave us, O, save us, mighty lord!\u201d\n\nSwift at the sound he roused his spirit up, and running, found at one\nend of a hall a close-shut door fast bolted from within. Jaufry called\nout, and struck it with great noise; yet answer none was made: enraged\nat this, he burst it in with force, and with his naked blade entered a\ngloomy vault. There was the leper found, with knife in hand, who\nseven infants had just put {080}to death. Some thirty more there still\nremained alive, whose bitter cries went through the softened soul.\n\nTouched at the frightful sight, Jaufry struck down the wretch, who\ncalled his master's help; and then in wrath exclaimed:\n\n\u201cThy master, villain, can no answer make; his soul this earth hath fled:\nand thou, for erstwhile making mock of me, shalt now thy meed receive.\u201d\n\nRaising meanwhile his arm, the leper's hand he severed at a blow. The\nwretch upon the blood-stained pavement rolled; then crawling to his\nfeet, he humbly cried:\n\n\u201cMercy, good knight; in God's name, pity me, and take not quite my life!\n'Twas by constraint and force I killed these babes. My lord, who sought\nto cure his leprosy, bade me, with awful threats, each day prepare a\nbath of human blood.\u201d\n\n\u201cThy life I'll grant,\u201d quoth Jaufry to him then, \u201can that thou give me\nmeans to leave this place.\u201d\n\n\u201cI can,\u201d the leper said; \u201cbut had you now deprived me of my life, not\nknowing of the spell, a hundred thousand years had rolled their course,\nand yet not seen you free.\u201d\n\n\u201cHaste {081}thee, then, now,\u201d quoth Jaufry, eagerly. \u201cSir knight,\u201d the\nman with shining face replied, \u201cyou still have much to bear. Such is the\nfashion of this castle's spell, my lord alone could power grant to such\nas hither came to cross the threshold; but never did they pass it in\nreturn save dead or maimed.\u201d\n\n\u201cHow, then, wilt thou succeed?\u201d said Jaufry.\n\n\u201cSpy you, on top of yonder casement high, a marble head?\u201d\n\n\u201cYea, by my faith! And then?\u201d\n\n\u201cLo, reach it down; and break it fair in twain; you'll thus destroy the\ncharm: but first your armour carefully put on; for when the spell is\no'er, these castle-walls will crumble into dust.\u201d\n\nTrusting not wholly to the lep'rous wretch, Jaufry then bound him by the\nfeet and arms, and to the damsel thus confided him:\n\n\u201cIf he hath lied,\u201d said he, \u201cspare not his life.\u201d Then he resumed his\nhelm, took down the marble head, whose shape was fair and cunningly\ndevised, and setting it near him on a wooden bench, discharged on't\nwith his sword so great a blow, he clove it dean in twain. Sudden\nit shrieked, it moaned, it bounded up, hissing and growling as a\nthunderbolt; whilst the vexed {082}elements at once unchained, and beam\nand stone at war with frightful din came crushing over Jaufry. Vainly\nhis shield was raised to guard his head; Heaven's face was darkened\no'er; an awful storm, where wind and lightning strove, bursting with\nruin, 'mid the ambient air had borne the knight away, but for his orison\nto heaven's King. Huge clouds of dust rose upwards to the skies; while a\nfierce wind, in passing, swept away the last memorial of the magic work:\nof castle naught remained.\n\n[Illustration: 108]\n\nBowed down, and scarce himself, did Jaufry move his limbs. Bowed down\nand bruised and tottering, dragged he some steps, then fell. The maid,\nthe slave, and mother with her child, who had sought refuge 'neath a\nhuge rock's vault, found him at length outstretched upon the turf, his\nstrength exhausted and quite motionless.\n\n\u201cSay, then, good knight,\u201d the damsel smiling spoke, \u201chow fares it with\nyou now?\u201d\n\n\u201cI have no bruise that's perilous, nor mortal wound,\u201d replied the\nknight; \u201cbut such this latter strife, I find, indeed, I sadly lack\nrepose.\u201d\n\nThe damsel then embraced him with her arms, and pressed her lips upon\nhis eyes and mouth. When Jaufry saw the mother,--\n\n\u201cWoman,\u201d {083}he said, \u201chast thou regained thy child?\u201d\n\n\u201cI have, my lord; thanks, be it told, to you.\u201d\n\n\u201cAn it be so, proceed then to Carlisle, with this fair damsel, babes,\nand leper,--all. There I must beg you go, King Arthur thank, from\nJaufry, Dovon's son, and tell him of this fight.\u201d\n\nThus speaking, he uprose; drew to his fancy his good horse's girths;\nand having consigned his friends to Heaven's care, resumed his quest of\nTaulat: albeit 'twas now with measured steps and slow; for this dread\nbattle had worn out his strength.\n\nHaving obtained her mantle and her horse, the maid set out from thence\nat the like hour, and with her went the leper and the rest; nor stayed\nshe on the way, but only stopped when she had reached fair Carlisle's\nlofty towers.\n\nThere all regarded her with wonderment.\n\n\u201cWhence can proceed,\u201d they said, \u201cthis strange cort\u00e8ge? whence come\nthese people? and what want they here?\u201d The curious crowd followed that\ndamsel fair up to the castle-gates, and there the knights, who noble\nescort made, led her with all her troop before the king.\n\nThere {084}bended she her knee, and as a dame of gentle breeding spoke:\n\n\u201cMay He, the Lord of all and of all things, who in His hands doth justly\nhold the keys of good and ill, increase your fame, and keep in glory the\nknights of your Round Table!\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd,\u201d said the worthy king, \u201cmay Heaven save you, sweet damsel, who are\nfair and good as courteous and well-bred!\u201d\n\n\u201cSire, from Jaufry, Dovon's son, I come, to thank you for my life; which\nto his mighty valour do I owe. I am the daughter of the Count Passant,\nwhose name perchance hath reached your royal ear. A knight of high\nesteem, who sought adventure to display his worth, brought me from\nNormandy to these fair shores. For seven long months, by valley and by\nhill we wandered on, full many a snare escaping, and without check full\nmany a weary fight. This land did hold, alas, a giant dread, of hideous\naspect, and of awful strength, eaten with leprosy and fearful sores,\nwhose thought doth make my very soul to heave. Before us suddenly this\nwretch appeared; and taking from his neck a monstrous club, struck at\nmy lord with force so terrible, he stunned him with the blow. Like as a\nchild {085}then, clutching at his arm, against a rock he fractured every\nbone; whilst me he seized from off my palfrey's back, and to his magic\ncastle quickly bore. There I had lost my life, yea, more than life, but\nthat high Heaven, whose justice I implored, in mercy sent Sir Jaufry to\nmy aid. This doughty knight at length the monster slew; but ne'er can\nI with greater truth aver, such battle never did these eyes behold, or\nblows so great e'er given and received.\u201d\n\nThe mother and the handless leper told their tale in turn. But whilst\nthey thus their message each relates, we will to Jaufry go, who onward\nstill his course doth slowly take, without he yet a single soul descried\nwho could give tidings of the man he sought.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI. THE ORCHARD OF BRUNISSENDE.\n\nHarassed, {087}fatigued, and sore with many a bruise, Jaufry was sinking\ntoo for food and drink; and yet the want of sleep,--of all our wants\nthe most imperious,--so weighed him down, he scarce could keep his seat.\nStill he went on a quarter of the night with limbs benumbed and eyelids\npartly closed, taking such course his charger pleased to lead.\n\nSerene and lovely was the atmosphere, and by the light the stars in\nshining gave he by adventure a large orchard saw, shut in with marble\nwalls and skirt with trees of umbrage such as earth scarce saw before.\nFlowers and fragrant herbs abounded there; and with each {088}puff of\nwind there issued out a sweet and balmy breath like paradise. 'Twas thus\nthat, as night fell, the birds for leagues around did hither flock,\nand perching on the leafy boughs, warbled their dulcet notes till matin\nprime.\n\nThis orchard appertained to a great dame known as fair Brunissende.\nWithin the castle of Montbrun she lived; and father, mother, husband,\nhad she none; fine was her court and rich, of breeding high; and knights\nand burghers, minstrels, jugglers from all countries, hither trooping\ncame. The palace, built of hewn and massive stone whereon the sculptor\nhad employed his art, was flanked with towers blackened o'er by time.\n'Twas in the centre Brunissende was lodged; and to it seven gates a\npassage gave, whereof the keepers could each one lead forth a thousand\nmen.\n\n[Illustration: 116]\n\nFive hundred damsels waited her commands; but though 'twere rare to see\nsuch beauty met, yet Brunissende held empire over all in loveliness and\ngrace: one might have sought throughout the realms of earth, and yet not\nfound such high and gentle dame, or one so fine in form. Her eyes and\nher sweet face swept from the mind of those who gazed on her all thought\nof {089}former charms. She was more fresh, more fair, more purely white\nthan snow that lies upon the frosted dew, and rose that opens on a\nlily's breast. *\n\n          * Car plus es fresca e bella e blanca\n          Que neus gelada sus en branca\n          Ni que rosas ab flor de lis....\n          Que cant hom auria cercat,\n          Totas cellas que son nascudas.....\n          Non auria hom una trobada\n          Tan bella ni tan gen formada;\n          Que sos oueils e sa bella cara\n          Fai oblidar qui ben l'esgara\n          Totas cellas que vistas a.\n\n          Ms. fol. 36, w. 3062 and 3159.\n\nBut, ah, felicity did not attend her charms. Yielding to some deep\ngrief, four times a day she sadly wept and mourned; and thrice she rose\nat night to mourn again. Her sole delight was listening to the notes\nof those sweet birds which filled her orchard near; which, when she\nhad heard, she got some brief repose,--soon to awake again to weep and\nmourn; and all her vassals, of each age and sex, little and great, at\nthat same hour of woe uttered the self-same moans, and shed like tears.\n\nArrived, as we already said, before her orchard fair, Jaufry got down;\nand seeing an open gate, he ventured in, removed the bridle from his\ncharger's mouth, so that {090}he grazed at ease, and his shield placing\n'neath his weary head, his limbs outstretching on the flowery turf, he\nsoon most soundly slept. Just then did Brunissende her footsteps take\ntowards her chamber, followed by her maids. Surprised the birds no\nlonger tuned their notes, she straightway bade the seneschal appear, to\nwhom she said with wrath:\n\n\u201cSome creature surely must have passed the gates, and scared my gentle\nbirds. Go, quickly find it out; and if perchance a man it prove to be,\nhe must be hither brought, alive or dead.\u201d\n\n\u201cLady,\u201d the seneschal at once replied, \u201cI go with speed.\u201d\n\nTwo squires preceding him, each with a lighted torch, his horse he\nmounted, and rode down in haste, and in the orchard found the weary\nknight, wrapt in profoundest sleep. He called him frequently, then shook\nhim hard; but for a time in vain. His eyes at length with effort he\nunclosed, when, raising up his head,--\n\n\u201cFair knight,\u201d quoth he most courteously, \u201cby thine attainments and thy\ngentle birth, I do entreat thee, in God's name, to let me here abide and\nsleep my fill.\u201d\n\n\u201cSleep {091}must you now no more,\u201d replied the chief, \u201cbut come before\nmy lady; she'll not rest until avenged on him who scares her birds.\u201d\n\nQuoth Jaufry:\n\n\u201cGod permit, thou shalt not take me off without a fight!\u201d\n\nThe seneschal, on hearing such resolve, called to his squire to bring\nhim out his arms. Meanwhile the son of Dovon slept again; so that the\nseneschal, when fall equipped, was forced a second time to wake him up,\nand roughly as at first.\n\n\u201cKnight,\u201d exclaimed Jaufry, as he then arose, \u201c'tis a great sin to\ntrouble my repose, for I am wearied out; but since thou hast chosen to\naccept the fight, wilt thou allow me to sleep on in peace if I do thee\nunhorse?\u201d\n\n\u201cBy Heaven's faith, I swear't!\u201d laughing, the other said.\n\nJaufry then hastened to his horse's side; replaced the bit, and tightly\ndrew the girths. Mounted, he galloped at the seneschal; who, having\ndrawn him back a space, on rushing drove his lance at Jaufry's shield,\nbut never harmed the knight. He, on the contrary, with happy stroke\nunhorsed the seneschal; who, full {092}of shame, with head bowed down,\nand slow and thoughtful step, regained the castle and his lady's room.\n\n\u201cWhat is't,\u201d asked Brunissende, \u201cthat there doth lurk?\u201d\n\n\u201cA knight all armed, whose peer the world not holds, sleeping so soundly\nhe would scarce awake.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy broughtst thou him not here? I wish him hither led; for, with God's\nhelp, no food shall pass these lips till that bold knight be hanged.\u201d\n\n\u201cLady,\u201d replied the seneschal, \u201che would not come; nor could I wake him\nup.\u201d\n\n\u201cIndeed,\u201d quoth she; \u201cthen bid the tocsin sound, and rouse me up my\nknights.\u201d\n\nThe seneschal obeyed; the sound was heard, and straightway flocking came\nfive hundred knights. The hall they entered, where their lady stood with\nspite and anger pale.\n\n\u201cBarons,\u201d she said, \u201ca bold and wicked knight my grounds hath passed, and\nwill not quit the walls; now if his head pay not this insolence, I never\nwill hold land or honour more.\u201d\n\n\u201cLady,\u201d replied a tall and proper knight of great renown,--Simon the Red\nby name,--\u201cI will go seek him {093}out, if such your wish; and trust,\nalive or dead, to bring him here.\u201d\n\n\u201cSo be it,\u201d said Brunissende.\n\nAdded the seneschal:\n\n\u201cMy troth, good friend, I bid thee shield thyself. He can most sturdily\ndefend his sconce; and brave indeed I'll hold the happy knight who takes\nit off by force.\u201d\n\nSimon, without a word, went on his way, and Jaufry found still sleeping;\nrudely he cried:\n\n\u201cUp, up, sir knight; arouse!\u201d\n\nJaufry, who moved not more than any rock, received from Simon then so\nstrong a kick, it woke him up in haste.\n\n\u201cNathless, thou promisedst to let me sleep,\u201d he then exclaimed; \u201cand\n'tis a villain's act to break thy faith, when thus I'm overcome.\u201d\n\n\u201cCome, speak then to my lady,\u201d Simon said; \u201cor I by force must take thee\nto the hall.\u201d\n\n\u201cWe first will see who's strongest,--thou or I,\u201d said Jaufry in low\ntone; when, springing on his horse, he ran at Simon, who like haste\ndisplayed.\n\nBold Simon's lance was split on Jaufry's shield; but he was borne by\nthat of his brave foe so swift to earth, {094}it nearly cost his life.\nJaufry ran up, as though to make it sure, when loud he called for grace.\n\n\u201cWilt thou annoy me further in my sleep, if I do grant it?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, lord, I promise thee.\u201d\n\n\u201cGo, then,\u201d said Jaufry, who again lay down, and quick reclosed his\neyes.\n\nSimon the Red, with flush upon his face and shame at heart, slowly\nretraced his steps. Certes, did he make but half the noise he made on\nsetting out; so that the seneschal, who watched him come, could not\nwithhold his smiles.\n\n\u201cLady,\u201d he said, \u201cbehold your champion; but with him comes no knight.\nI'd wage my spurs, like me, he has taken oath.\u201d\n\n\u201cMaugre this pleasantry,\u201d the dame replied, \u201cere I have rest, this\nnaughty knight shall hang.\u201d\n\nHearing the words, one of the keepers of the seven gates descended to\nthe orchard; but soon his troop returned, bearing him faint and bleeding\non his shield. At such a spectacle, fair Brunissende could scarce\ncontain her rage,--\n\n[Illustration: 124]\n\n\u201cWhat! have I round me naught but coward folk,\u201d she loudly cried, \u201cand\nknights without a heart? Go {095}fifty; if it need, go thrice that\nnumber still; but bring this vassal, or no more return!\u201d\n\nAt this reproach, the knights rushed off in troop, and to the garden\nhied with dash and din. When there, they Jaufry seized,--some by the\narm, and others by the leg; while some his shoulders held, and some his\nhead, and brought him thus into that lordly hall without his being able\nto stir limb. On seeing them arrive, the dame impatient came with hasty\nstep and bade them set him free. They loosed their hold, and Jaufry\nstood upright; nor could he think, as round his glance was thrown, 'twas\nsport that brought him 'mong such iron folk. Tall and well-shaped, his\nnatural manly grace, set off with hauberk rich and burnished casque,\nstruck Brunissende, who eyed him curiously.\n\n\u201c'Tis you,\u201d at length she said, \u201cwho all this ill have wrought.\u201d\n\n\u201cFair lady,\u201d he replied, \u201cso far am I from doing what you say, or\ncausing you annoy, I would defend you with my utmost strength 'gainst\nall of mother born.\u201d\n\n\u201cIn that you say not truth; for you erewhile have so misused my knight,\nthat he may chance to die.\u201d\n\n\u201cI {096}own it, lady fair, but he was in the wrong; having by oath\nengaged to let me sleep, he thrice returned to wake me up, and struck me\nwith his lance. Still, had I known him feoffee to you, never on him had\nrisen this knightly hand, e'en for a greater cause.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo matter! I can see,\u201d replied the dame, \u201cwe 'll find in you,--and that\nere morning sun,--a proper subject for the cord, or worse.\u201d\n\nWhilst thus she spoke, Jaufry regarded her; and ne'er had tired admiring\nher brow, her neck, her fair and sweet fresh face, her rosy mouth, and\nblue and loving eyes.\n\n\u201cLady,\u201d quoth he, love gliding o'er his soul, \u201cdo with me what you will;\nfor with no other arms than that rich robe, you would have vanquished\nme with greater ease than ten knights clad in mail. If, 'gainst my\nknowledge, I have caused you pain, wreak now your own revenge; and never\n'gainst you shall uprise my sword, or lance or shield be used.\u201d\n\nHearing him reason thus so courteously, the dame forgets her wrath. Love\nwith his golden shaft hath pierced her heart, and now she pardons all.\nThose lips still bear a menace to the ear; but those sweet eyes belie't.\n\nGrown {097}bold, the knight, who still did on her gaze, begged her to\ngrant a boon.\n\n\u201cLet me,\u201d he said, \u201cbut slumber at my ease; then do what justice bids.\nFear not that I shall hence seek means to fly; for, Heaven preserve\nme, you have somehow gained such power o'er my soul, that you alone are\nbetter guard than are ten hundred of your men with arms in hand.\u201d\n\nFair Brunissende retired with a sigh, leaving for sole adieu a look\nso sweet, that, spite of his dull sense, it filled his heart with joy.\nMeantime the seneschal, whose care it was, bade the attendants then\nprepare a couch in middle of the hall: he there conducted Jaufry, and\nthen asked his name and country.\n\n\u201cI'm of King Arthur's court,\u201d quoth Dovon's son; \u201cnow prithee ask no\nmore, but, in God's name, let me in quiet rest.\u201d\n\nFull armed as he then was, he laid him down, and sleep his eyelids\nclosed. Not so fair Brunissende. Love in her chamber had renewed\nthe assault, and banished sleep away; and thus she mused, until the\ncity-watch gave forth the accustomed sound. At that trumpet's call, each\nin the castle and the city rose; and all at once gave loose to tears\nand groans. High dames {098}and damsels, Brunissende in chief, clasping\ntheir hands in sign of deepest woe, beat their fair breasts and face;\nwhile the knights who guarded Jaufry made such dreadful din, it woke him\nup, and made him ask the cause.\n\nAll at the word rushed forward to the couch, and struck with lance and\nsword and iron mace. Well 'twas for him his hauberk was of proof;\nfor the blows came just like to a storm of hail. Nor did they cease,\nthinking the knight was dead, until the doleful cries had died away.\nThen each resumed his post, and silence fell o'er all. Again, at mid of\nnight, those cries uprose; but Jaufry, whom no sleep again had blessed,\nand whose cleared thoughts were fixed on Brunissende, took careful note\nto guard his curious tongue; holding his breath, he said within himself:\n\n\u201cCertes are these men no folk of flesh and blood, but demons hither\nsent to pester earth. With Heaven's help, to-morrow's blessed sun shan't\nlight upon me here.\u201d\n\nPersuaded he was dead after that storm of blows, the knights relaxed\ntheir watch, and slumbered at their posts; Jaufry then seized the\nchance, and noiselessly uprose. With shield and lance in hand, he left\nthe castle-halls {099}on tip of toe; by good luck found his horse, and\nmounting quick, at fullest speed set out. Had he but dreamt the love\nfair Brunissende conceived, not all her men-at-arms would from Montbrun\nhave chased him but with slaughter. Little deemed he, as hill and dale\nhe crossed with breathless speed, she at that hour was in her fancy\nmusing how she might make him hers.\n\nWho shall depict, as rose the sun next mom, fair Brunissende's dismay,\nwhen, of the first who to the hall came down, she heard of Jaufry's\nflight? As one deprived of sense, those hundred knights she loudly did\naccuse of treason to their faith; their negligence she banned; and\nto the seneschal in wrath exclaimed, that, if he found not Jaufry, he\nshould by fire or cord full surely die, even if torments yet unheard\nwere hers.\n\nWhilst that this scene was passing at Montbrun, Jaufry already was well\non his road. And shortly after rising of the sun, he met a neatherd,\ndriving of a car laden with bread and wine and other things. This man\ninvited him, by holy charity, to eat with him; and used such kindly\nwords, that Jaufry yielded to his hearty wish, frankly avowing that for\nthree whole days he {100}had not tasted food. The neatherd therefore\ntook his shield and lance, drew from his car good wheaten bread and\nwine, two roasted capons, three grilled partridges, and part of a\nwild-boar; then, spreading on the turf beneath a leafy tree a fair white\ncloth, a brook just bubbling by, he served the knight, and paid him\ngreat respect.\n\nWhen they had eat their fill, and in their thirst emptied two bowls of\nwine, Jaufry prepared to go, thanking the neatherd for his welcome meal.\nThis man was vassal to fair Brunissende, the lady of high worth; and as\nthe knight was turning to depart, he drew the charger's rein and gently\nsaid:\n\n\u201cGood friend, one thing I fain would ask of you, which I had\nhalf-forgot: why do the people of this fair domain so weep and loudly\nmoan?\u201d\n\n\u201cAh, rascal, wretch, thou traitor, and thou fool!\u201d exclaimed the\nneatherd, bursting forth with rage, \u201cthy wretched life shall answer for\nthose words.\u201d\n\nWith all his strength he then at Jaufry cast the pond'rous axe he bore,\nwhich struck his shield and brought out fire and flame. The knight\nspurred on his horse and got clear off; but mid a storm of stones. The\nneatherd then, enraged at missing him, shivered his car {101}to bits,\nand with his axe struck both his oxen dead. *\n\n     * Cervantes has wittily parodied this adventure by that of\n     the braying of the ass, which sets two villages of La Mancha\n     at strife with each other (Aventura del rebuzno, parte ii.\n     lib. vi. cap. xxv.).\n\nIn ignorance of the cause of all this rage, Jaufry at length relaxed his\nhorse's speed; still as he went exclaiming, that he'd hold as naught\nall that he yet had done till he had met a creature who could tell\nthe reason of that wailing. Busied with such-like thoughts and the\nremembrance of fair Brunissende, he rode the live-long day, spite of\nfatigue and heat. When daylight waned, two youths well-horsed, with\nfalcon on the fist, and hounds and terriers running at their feet,\ncame up to him; and after slight discourse, invited him to share their\nevening meal,--and that so courteously, he could not make denial. The\nthree young men then gaily went along, talking of love and battle's iron\nstrife; when, as 'twas sunset, rose again that cry, at which the youths\nlike madmen howled and wept.\n\n\u201cGood youths,\u201d quoth Jaufry, with astonishment, \u201cwhat means this grief?\nWhat heard you, sirs, I pray; and why such noise?\u201d\n\n\u201c_Why?_ {102}ask'st thou, foolish, treacherous serf? that word shall\ncost thy life!\u201d\n\nAnd as one cast at him his startled bird, the other plucked his cap from\noff his head and threw it madly 'gainst bold Jaufry's shield. Their fury\nand hard words finished as ceased that cry; when, quickly following the\nwond'ring knight, with honeyed phrase they charmed away his wrath, and\nto their habitation led the way.\n\nThis was a ch\u00e2telet of graceful form, girded by lofty walls and outer\nfosse, through which a living stream for ever ran. Beside the bridge\nthere sat an aged knight, listing a minstrel's song,--_The Lay of the\nTwo Lovers_. * It was the father of the two young men: beholding Jaufry,\nhe in haste arose, and came to give him welcome; saying, with joyful\ntone: **\n\n     * Of Marie of France.\n\n     ** This knight in Cervantes' hands is the nobleman clad in\n     green (Cavaliero vestido en gavan de pano fino verde, parte\n     ii. lib.  v. cap. xvi.).\n\n\u201cI am beholden, lord, to those who've brought you: seven long years have\nflown since stranger-guest hath this my threshold crossed whose aspect\npleased me so: God save you, sir!\u201d\n\nThus speaking, by the arm the knight escorted Jaufry {103}to the hall,\nwhere the two youths removed his armour bright. Soon there came in a\ndamsel fair, of fresh and smiling look, who brought him a rich mantle,\nwhich when he had put on, she, on a cushion placed beside him, sat. Then\nthey discoursed on various pleasant things until 'twas time for water to\nbe brought. A well-bred page did pour it o'er his hands, while the fair\ndamsel held the ready bowl; at which Sir Jaufry said:\n\n\u201cMaiden, I'll not this kindly act refuse; for should you e'er need\nservice at my hands, whate'er the hour or place, you may full surely\ncall me to your aid.\u201d\n\nThey then at table sat; and when the meal was o'er, the cloth removed,\nthe damsel went the couches to prepare, and left her father and the\nknight alone. The old man asked his name, and wept for joy to learn the\nson of Dovon was his guest,--his ancient friend in arms. He would have\nfain a month detained him there; but Jaufry cleverly excuses made, and\nat the point of day he in his saddle found himself again. The maid had\ngiven him his shield and lance, and he his leave was then about to\ntake, when it occurred to him to ask his host about that wailing cry.\nScarcely, however, was the question put when the old man and his two\n{104}sons alike assailed him with hard names: they called him knave and\nwretch and villain's son; they hair in that unseemly rage.\n\nJaufry by dint of spur escaped their wrath; and wond'ring saw them on\neach other turn their fitful ire, and tear their clothes to rags. Their\nfury spent, they called him back again; and Jaufry, wishing to have news\nof Taulat, consented to return. As it fell out, no man could give him\nmore. The aged knight well knew that champion fierce, and in these terms\ndid tell him what he sought:\n\n\u201cFollow,\u201d he said, \u201call day this very road; it leads across a tract of\ndesert space, where ne'er are found or house or town, or bread or wine,\nor man of mother born. If you should wish in passing to repose, naught\nbut the turf can be your host or tent. Go onward thus until to-morrow's\nsun. Before the noon you will have reached a plain, wherein is set\na high and rugged mount. There, at its foot, a castle you'll behold,\npleasant and finely built; and round its moats a crowd of tents and\nhuts, where harbour knights and lords of high descent. Pass stoutly on,\nnor speak a word to man; go to the castle without stop or stay, whatever\ntried to strike at him with sturdy dubs, and tore their may {105}befall,\nand enter boldly in, leaving without your lance, and eke your shield.\nThere will you find two dames,--one old, one young,--who watch a wounded\nknight. Go to the ancient dame, and to her say, that Augier de Cliart\nsends you there, that she may tell you why the people groan, and give\nyou news of Taulat.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII. THE BLACK KNIGHT.\n\nWell {107}pleased at Augier's words, which seemed to raise his heart by\nfull a span, Jaufry spurred bravely on, and by the morrow safely reached\nthe spot his host had named. While he was passing through the scattered\ntents, the knights, who stared at him, exclaimed aloud:\n\n\u201cBehold a man who has ridden the night long, and hastens forward, but to\nseek his loss.\u201d\n\nSeeming as though he never heard the words, he to the noble castle\nstraightway hied; which seemed most rich, and sculptured with fine art.\nSeeing a portal set with marble leaves and tinged of various hues, he\nthere got down, secured his horse, and near him placing both his lance\nand shield, he passed within the door. At first {108}his eyes no other\nforms beheld than those which omed the walls; but as he wandered on from\nroom to room, he came at length where lay the wounded knight, and at his\ncouch two dames in robes of woe, and tears upon their cheeks. As he was\ncounselled by good Augier, then he to the elder went, and prayed her\ncourteously, in Heaven's name, to tell him where was Taulat, and why the\npeople of that land he left did day and night so weep.\n\nCharmed with his breeding and his knightly words, the lady then\nexplained that Taulat, whose brutality and pride exceeded bounds, would\nin eight days return.\n\n\u201cHe comes,\u201d she said, \u201cto glut his cruelty upon the wretched man who\nyonder lies. Seven years agone he with his lance did wound him cruelly;\nand when that wound is healed, each year, upon the feast-day of St.\nJohn, he has him fastened to a stake hard by, and beaten with a scourge\nuntil the wounds are opened once again. For this the vassals of the\nneighbouring land of Brunissende,--whereof this knight is lord,--weep\nand lament, and e'en do put to death those who would spy into their\ncause of grief.\u201d\n\n\u201cLady,\u201d Sir Jaufry said, \u201cpride slays its lord; and by {109}that pride,\nI trust, will Taulat fall. In eight days' time to seek him I will come;\nand I can truly say that term will seem a year.\u201d\n\nCommending her to Heaven, he left those halls, mounted again his horse,\nand took his way towards a neighbouring wood, where he did trust some\nman to meet to lodge him in his hut. The wood was gloomy, intricate,\nand dense; and at the first cross-road before him, he beheld, squatted\nbeneath a pine, a hag, whose aspect struck him with surprise.\n\n[Illustration: 141]\n\nHer head was larger than a portal's arch; her eyes were small as\ndeniers, bleared besides and blue, misshapen, and deep-sunk beneath\nprojecting brows. Her lips were black; teeth red as orpiment, which\njutted out unseemly from her jaw. Her arms were sinewy, and her hands\nall knots; her face was colourless and wrinkled o'er; her body puffed;\nher shoulders round and high; her legs were skinny and of brownish hue;\nher knees were pointed; her toe-nails so long, no shoe could ever have\nenclosed her feet. A verdant wreath encircled her white hair, which\nstiffly stood on end. Her under-garment was of linen fine; her robe of\nruddy silk; and over all a scarlet mantle fell, with ermine lined.\n\nJaufry saluted her; meanwhile with awe he gazed upon {110}her figure\nstrange, and ugly face. She turned her head, and without moving from her\ndarksome seat, exclaimed:\n\n\u201cRetrace thy steps, sir knight, and that at once.\u201d\n\n\u201cNot so, indeed,\u201d quoth Jaufry, \u201ctill I learn why thou dost tell me thus\nto flee away.\u201d\n\n\u201cThou wilt repent it, then,\u201d the hag replied; \u201cand death or dungeon\nshalt thou surely find.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd wherefore so?\u201d\n\n\u201cGo on, and thou wilt learn.\u201d\n\n\u201cTell me at least with whom I'll have to strive.\u201d\n\n\u201cThose thou shalt meet will say.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd thou, too; what art thou?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat thou beholdst!\u201d the hag exclaimed, as, rising, she unfolded her\nhuge length, tall as a knightly lance.\n\n\u201cHeaven!\u201d Sir Jaufry cried, \u201cin thee I trust; what figure have we here?\u201d\n\n[Illustration: 144]\n\n\u201cDare to pass onwards,\u201d growled the wretched hag, \u201cand thou shalt meet\nwith worse.\u201d\n\n\u201cNathless they stay not me: as to thy threats,\u201d he said, \u201cI hold them as\nthe wind, or nothingness.\u201d Pricking his charger as he spoke the words,\nhe passed along the path.\n\nThe hag, {111}however, had but told the truth. For as he reached a\nchapel small, a holy hermit served, a knight of sable hue, mounting\na sable horse, with sable arms, assailed him with such strength and\nunawares, that horse and knight were on the turf o'er-thrown. Jaufry,\nall red with shame, at once upsprang, and, sword in hand, wished to\navenge his fall; but, lo, no foe was there. He looked about, above,\naround, below, but horse and knight had vanished quite away. Again he\nmounted on his charger's back, when, at the instant, his strange foe\nreturned, with lowered lance to strike at him again. Jaufry, prepared,\nnow flew at him in turn; they midway met with shock so terrible, each\nrolled upon the earth. Half-wild with anger then, quick as the lightning\nJaufry was afoot, with shield on guard and ready for the fight; but\nne'er a foe was there.\n\n[Illustration: 148]\n\n\u201cI will yet find him out,\u201d Sir Jaufry said, as in his saddle he again\ndid leap. But scarce was foot in stirrup firmly set when back returned\nthe sable knight, hissing and growling as the thunder doth when tempests\nvex the air, and for the third time bore him to the ground. Jaufry, on\nhis side, had so aimed his lance, it pierced his foe right through,\nand cast him on the turf. But when {112}he wished to give the\n_coup-de-grace_, in vain he sought the knight, he neither saw nor heard.\n\n\u201cGood Heaven!\u201d Jaufry cried, \u201cwhere hath this recreant, this demon,\nfled? I drive my lance a fathom through his breast, I hurl him to the\nground; and yet he flies, and doth escape my wrath! O gracious Lord, in\nThee I put my trust!\u201d\n\nAgain he mounted as he spoke these words; when the invisible once more\nappeared, unhorsing him anew. Why re-describe the scene? While daylight\nlasted, still this game went on. When off his horse, no creature did he\nsee; but as he sat him on his charger's back the sable knight appeared\nto strike and hew. Weary of fight, Sir Jaufry then resolved to go on\nfoot into the chapel-gate; but as he took his way, the spectre then his\nonward footsteps barred, so that the battle did again commence, and in\nthe darkness without pause went on.\n\nFor half that night their swords and lances clashed, so that bright\nsparks of fire upward flew; fatigued at length to hear such din of arms,\nthe hermit rose, and with his stole and cross and holy water, chanting\na psalm, forth issued from his cell. The sable knight did not attend\nhis coming; shrieking aloud, at once he disappeared, albeit behind him\nleaving such a storm as {113}suffered no allay, until the chapel-bell\nrang out the matin hour.\n\nSheltered by this good man, Sir Jaufry asked, and thus obtained from\nhim, the secret of the knight with whom he had fought so long.\n\n\u201cFriend, what thou ask'st I'll tell thee in few words: this knight in\nsable armour is a fiend, evoked from realms of darkness by a hag, whom\nthou perchance hast met upon thy way. This hideous wretch once boasted\nas her spouse a monstrous giant, whose most wicked acts for twenty\nleagues around had spoiled the earth. As mortal, all-ferocious though he\nbe, is ne'er without his peer, it happed this giant did return one night\nso grievously ill-used, that, at the end of three short days, he died.\nThe hag, then, fearing for her own sad life and that of her two sons,\ncalled by her magic from the lower world that evil spirit who, for\nthirty years, these lands hath vexed. Meantime her sons have waxed in\nyears and strength, and closely followed in their father's steps. Grown\nleprous, one, he dwelt within a house, built by his mother by the\nforce of spells, whither his brother hath set out in haste, enraged and\ntost,--for that the rumour saith a knight of Arthur's court the wretch\nhath slain. An it {114}be true, may Heaven, all powerful, defend that\nknight!\u201d\n\n\u201cHe will endeavour to defend himself,\u201d quoth Jaufry smiling; \u201cand the\nraged giant, if he held the wish, need not have gone so far to find him\nout: I am the man who did his brother slay, and by whose hand the wicked\nspell was burst.\u201d\n\nEight days being fled, the hermit chanted mass, and at the altar prayed\nthe holy saints to guide Sir Jaufry, and protect his life against the\nmonster's wrath. Having devoutly joined him in the prayer, the son\nof Dovon, like a valiant knight, did joyously set out; and scarce\nhad ridden for an hour's space when he beheld the giant swiftly come,\nbearing beneath his arm,--with the same ease as he had done a child,--a\ndamsel, who did utter doleful cries. Her voice was hoarse from screaming\nout for help; her yellow hair, which sparkled in the sun, upon her\nshoulders all dishevelled fell like molten gold; her robe was tom, her\neyes were swollen with tears; scarce, by Saint Mary! had she strength\nremaining to implore help of Jaufry.\n\nThe knight, with pity touched, heard not in vain the prayer. His shield\nadvanced, his lance within the rest, {115}he at the giant rode, and\ncalled aloud that he should loose the maid.\n\nLetting her truly for an instant go, the giant ran towards the nearest\ntree, and pulling at the trunk, unearthed it, roots and all. Before,\nhowever, he had done so quite, Jaufry had plunged his lance into his\nside. Checked by the stroke, and trembling in the hand, the giant's blow\nlost half of its effect, yet ne'er the less it bore to mother earth both\nJaufry and his steed. The knight full quickly leapt upon his feet; and\nwith his ready sword struck at the monster with such vigorous hand, he\nsliced from off his flank a palm of flesh; and through the gaping wound\none might behold his beating heart, whilst streams of blood poured\nthrough. Exhausted, tottering, still the giant overthrew the knight by\nstriking with his fist upon his helm; but though his sword escaped from\nJaufry's grasp, it was too late for harm,--the giant fainting fell. On\nthis, the knight hewed off his monstrous feet; when, in all gentleness,\nthe maid he raised, for she had kneeled at her preserver's side, and\nthus did say:\n\n\u201cAccept, my lord, a thousand grateful thanks; for more than life have\nyou preserved for me, in saving me from him!\u201d\n\n\u201cDamsel,\u201d {116}Sir Jaufry answered, \u201cGod for ever aid you! But explain\nhow is't I find you here?\u201d\n\n\u201cMy lord, 'tis easy to relate the tale: but yesterday I in an orchard\nstrayed, to which my mother had conducted me; it was our usual walk;\nwhen, as we left the gates, behold, yon giant suddenly appeared, seized\nme at once, and to his castle now was bearing me away, when you, sir\nknight, so happily stepped in.\u201d\n\n\u201cI thank great Heaven, it was just in time! But where, I pray you, was\nyour worthy sire, and where your brothers, when this giant came?\u201d\n\n\u201cHunting within the forest, good my lord: but you surprise me, asking\nme of them. One fain would say that you did know them all; and yet,\nmethinks, I ne'er have seen yourself.\u201d\n\n\u201cSweet damsel, yea, and that few days agone. 'Twas at your father's,\nAugier's good house, where I, at need, so courteously was served by you\nand all of yours.\u201d\n\n\u201cBlest be the hour, gentle lord and knight, you harboured 'neath our\nroof; and we, how happy to have you for guest!\u201d\n\n\u201cBy this you see, my fair and courteous maid, how meet it is that we\nshould service do, even to those unknown. {117}One knows not who shall\ngo or who shall come, they who do hold or they who hold them not, or\nwhat the future keeps for us in store. Well it becomes us, then, to\nrender help where help we can; welcome with courtesy, and honour guests\nwith shelter and with food, whom chance may send us as they onward go.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd where, Sir Jaufry,\u201d then inquired the maid, \u201cif I may ask, do you\ndirect your steps?\u201d\n\n\u201cI will explain as we do ride along. But I must haste: time presses; and\ne'en now I greatly fear me I shall come too late.\u201d\n\n[Illustration: 155]\n\nRemounting quickly as these words were said, he then good Augier's\ndaughter lifted up and placed upon his horse; for he resolved she should\nnot quit his sight until he put her in her father's arms: this done he\nrode apace towards the spot where lay the wounded knight.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII. TAULAT DE RUGUMON.\n\nNever {119}did help come more in time of need. Returned that very morn,\nTaulat had bound his prisoner to a stake; and four stout ploughmen, each\narmed with a strap, already raised their brawny arms to strike and ope\nthe closed wounds. But as Jaufry came, they stayed their hand to\ngaze awhile at him; nor less surprised than they, Taulat, who on the\ncastle-terrace stood, descended in hot haste and thus accosted Jaufry:\n\u201cSir knight, I fain would learn what madness or what pride hath thus\nconducted thee into my lands. Dismount and doff thine arms, for thou art\nprisoner henceforth for ay.\u201d\n\n\u201cMy lord,\u201d the knight replied, \u201cmethinks you practise an unseemly haste.\nGive me, I beg, the time to {120}tell my errand. I come to speak in\nfavour of the knight your knaves were going to strike; and I entreat\nyou, for the sake of me, to grant unto him grace.\u201d\n\n\u201cMay Heaven help me!\u201d Taulat answered him, \u201cbut sure thou art\ndistraught: such words deserve the rope,--a peasant's death.\u201d\n\n\u201c'Twould be a grievous wrong, my lord, the words being good and wise;\nagain I do repeat them, praying grace for yonder knight, who seven long\nyears hath groaned.\u201d\n\n\u201cGo, churl; too long I've listed; go and disarm thyself, if thou wilt\nlive, and to my squires give up the girl with thee.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf she's dishonoured and I put to shame, this arm, by Heaven, must\nindeed be weak.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat! wouldst thou fight with me?\u201d\n\n\u201cE'en unto death, before I suffer shame.\u201d\n\n\u201cVain fool, beware; when on my neck I've put my shield, thoult find but\nlittle grace.\u201d\n\n\u201cMine ear,\u201d quoth Jaufry, \u201chath been oft assailed by higher threats than\nthese. I do reply, that, by the faith of Him who built this world, you\nshall set free yon knight, and to the court of good King Arthur go, to\npay the felony you there have done; or you shall {121}fight with me,\ntill you or I be vanquished and slain.\u201d\n\n\u201cKnow'st thou then not, I've fought and conquered full five hundred\nknights, all better men than thou?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt may be so,\u201d quoth Jaufry; \u201cnow for proof: go get your arms, and\nGod's high will be done!\u201d\n\n\u201cNo other armour,\u201d proudly Taulat said, \u201cdo I require than my good lance\nand shield: seven of thy strength might then come on, and I'd defy you\nall.\u201d\n\n\u201c'Tis madness,\u201d did Sir Jaufry make reply, \u201cto enter fight unarmed. But\nsince your pride doth blind your senses so, e'en have it as you will.\u201d\n\nFurious at the words, Taulat addressed a squire: \u201cGo to the castle,\nquickly as thou canst; bring me my lance and shield, and tell the\nknights I've conquered one by one to meet me here, that they may witness\na base peasant's death, as with a single blow I do intend, through\nshield and hauberk, to find out his heart. And at the instant should\nthis not be done, may I lose arms and chivalry and lady's love!\u201d\n\nThe squire ran quickly to the scattered camp, where lodged the captive\nknights,--who all were grieving for the wounded man, bound to the stake\nand waiting for the scourge,--to them he briefly said:\n\n\u201cBarons, {122}my lord attends you there beyond, that you may see him\nbattle with a fool, who comes to seek his death.\u201d\n\nMounting then speedily the castle-stair,--amid the tears and murmurs of\nthe dames who ceaseless mourned,--he took him down the shield and lance\nsuspended to the rack, and bore them to his lord, who, vaulting on his\nhorse, nor stopping to don breastplate or aught else, cried in a haughty\ntone:\n\n\u201cCome to thy death, thou churl, whose sight offends me!\u201d\n\nSir Jaufry, angered at the insult, then dashed at full speed upon the\nhaughty knight, who like a lion came: so fearful was the shock, no\nsaddle, girth, or art, availed Sir Jaufry. Down to the earth he rolled\nbeneath the stroke. But not alone; for Taulat on his side, by blow as\nvigorous and deftly put, at the same instant fell, his shield pierced\nthrough, and Jaufry's lance within his side.\n\nA shout of joy upsprang from those good knights:\n\n\u201cGood Heaven, but this day thou chast'nest Taulat, and dost break that\npride which long hath vexed the land!\u201d'\n\nJaufry meanwhile, his sword within his grasp, ran to {123}fierce\nRugimon, fast pinned to earth, as though some snake he were; but as he\ncame, Taulat in humble tone exclaimed:\n\n\u201cFor God's love, knight, O do not end thy work; for 'tis my folly that\nhath brought my death.\u201d\n\n\u201cThy folly, true, was great,\u201d Sir Jaufry said; \u201cbut ere we part, I count\non curing thee. Too long this pride endured, it now must have an end.\nThou deem'st this morn no knight was in the world who in address and\nstrength could vie with thee. Most brave no doubt thou wast; but thy\nconsuming and most wicked pride exceeded far thy valour, and 'tis a\nvice God neither loves nor bears. Thou now canst learn that, but for\nHis resolve to chasten thee, this youthful arm,--certes less robust than\nthine,--would ne'er have cast thee down. 'Tis but the punishment for thy\nfierce pride, the outrage thou to good King Arthur didst,--that flower\nof chivalry, whose uprightness God loves. And thus it fares with those\nwho seek his shame: sooner or later will the knights, who sit at his\nRound Table famed, mete out their punishment, save 'neath the earth they\nhide. What they can do in fight, thou mayst surmise by me, a novice,\nscarcely two months armed, and who have sought thee day and night until\nthis {124}hour, when thou dost find the guerdon of thy deeds.\u201d\n\n\u201cAll that thou sayst, sir knight, is but too true,\u201d Taulat replied in\nweak and failing voice; \u201cbut mercy grant me, as thy conquered foe, as\ndying man, and who doth yield to thee.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe mercy that thou prayst for, thou shalt have,\u201d Sir Jaufry said; \u201cbut\nupon certain terms: first, thou shalt go to good King Arthur's court,\nthere yield thyself a prisoner; he will take such vengeance on thee as\nhis honour claims.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat will I do; but now, for Heaven's sake, permit the leech to bind me\nup this wound.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo leech shall come, nor e'er shalt thou uprise, till, by St. Thomas,\nthou hast let go free the knight who's bound to yonder cruel stake, and\nall the captives thou hast ever made.\u201d\n\n\u201cDo as thou wilt, my lord, with them and me.\u201d Jaufry at once did sheathe\nhis own good blade and take the sword of Taulat. Then he allowed the\nsquire to fetch the leech, who probed his master's hurt and washed the\nwound with water and white wine, when on a couch he had him gently laid,\nand borne within the gates.\n\nJaufry {125}meanwhile set free the wounded knight; and having extorted\nfrom the captive lords their promise that they'd hasten to Carlisle, and\nto King Arthur this affair relate, he was about to leave them to\nGod's care, when the wounded knight,--lord paramount of all those\ngentlemen,--most humbly to him said:\n\n\u201cGood sir, to you I yield, and with my person offer men and lands. Most\nnobly have you won all this and more, in freeing me from all the pangs\nI've borne for seven weary years. So great those pangs, so cruel was my\nlot, better for me had death relieved my woes. Taulat, without a cause\nof enmity, hath tortured me full long; but now, by God's grace, and, sir\nknight, by yours, at length his reign is o'er.\u201d\n\n\u201cGood lord,\u201d responded Jaufry, \u201cpray retain your having; naught do I\nwish for your deliverance, save that, with these brave knights, you do\nproceed to good King Arthur's throne, and there explain you owe your\nliberty to Dovon's son.\u201d\n\nThe knight such promise gave; when Jaufry, calling for his horse, which\nall prepared they brought, while Augier's daughter mounted by his side,\nhe took of all farewell, and then set out for the fair damsel's home;\n{126}his thoughts, in sooth, turning to Brunissende, towards whom he\nfelt his heart most sweetly drawn.\n\nWhen he had gone, Taulat returned the knights their steeds and arms,\nand, by the compact made, departed in their train for fair Carlisle.\nThere they arrived upon the eleventh day. The worthy king gave audience\nto a dame, who, bathed in tears, her castle was to lose within a week,\nif she no champion found to meet her foe. When he had listed to her\ndolorous words, the king aggrieved replied:\n\n\u201cLady, were Gawain here, most willingly would he defend your cause; but\nhe is not: nor have I Dovon's son, nor Ivan bold, nor any of the braves\nof my Round Table. If of the knights who here surround my throne,\nthere's standing one who'll venture your defence, great is the honour\nthat shall be his meed.\u201d\n\nBut no one made reply. In vain the dame, turning to spurred heels, with\nwarmth exclaimed:\n\n\u201c'Fore Heaven, brave knights, shall it be said a woman came to seek in\nthis high court for aid, yet found it not?\u201d\n\nStill no one made reply.\n\n'Twas at this moment Taulat's troop appeared; himself upon a gilded\nlitter laid, covered with sumptuous {127}cloth, and gently by two snowy\npalfries borne. Five hundred knights he had in fight overthrown, armed\n_cap-\u00e0-pie_, followed in his train, each mounted on a charger richly\ndecked. Their lord was at their head, who, as they reached the king,\nknelt humbly down before that monarch's throne, and thus addressed him:\n\n\u201cSire, may He who for our weal came down on earth, which eke His blood\nbedewed, now grant you joy, and double your renown!\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd you, friend, may He save!\u201d the king replied. \u201cBut what, I pray, are\nthese, who seem so stout and good? And what the wounded man that litter\nholds?\u201d\n\n\u201cMy lord, that man is Taulat.\u201d\n\n\u201cTaulat de Rugimon?\u201d\n\n\u201cMy lord, the same; Jaufry, the son of Dovon, bravely vanquished him,\nand hither sends him to the queen and you; so that you may, my lord,\nsuch vengeance take as in your wisdom you consider fit, for that same\noutrage, now two months agone, he did to you.\u201d\n\n\u201cHeaven and earth,\u201d King Arthur then exclaimed, \u201chow well hath Jaufry\nserved me! Friend, tell me truth: when last you left him, was he safe\nand sound?\u201d\n\n\u201cGreat {128}lord, he was, as doth comport such honoured and brave\nknight, who hath nor grief nor fear. Naught else but good can harbour\nwith his name; and it were sweet to laud, if that his acts did not\nupraise him more than words can ever reach. When you shall know from\nwhat most cruel fate his valour hath snatched _me_, you will indeed be\nfull of wonderment. But this recital must before the queen and all her\ndames be made.\u201d\n\nThe king at once commanded unto Quex to go and seek the queen; the\nseneschal obeyed, when meeting her,--\n\n\u201cLady,\u201d said he, \u201cif it so meet your wish, the king, your lord and mine,\nbids you to come and list a message brought by valiant knight who heads\na great escort.\u201d\n\nThe queen at once proceeded to the hall with all her dames and damsels;\nand when she placed herself beside her spouse, Melyan, the worthy\nknight, addressed them thus:\n\n\u201cLady, from brave Sir Jaufry, Dovon's son, I bring high reparation to\nyourself and all your train. I bring you Taulat, hight of Rugimon,\nthat you may vengeance take for the affront that he hath done to you,\n{129}and for the cruelty he's heaped on me. Learn, without motive he my\nfather slew, and me he wounded with such grievous hurt, that ne'er shall\nI be healed. I was his captive in his castle kept; and when my wound\nhad closed, he to a stake did have me bound, and scourged by cruel hands\nuntil the wound again was open laid. Each month did I this martyrdom\nendure; which caused such dire despair throughout my lands, that, thrice\nby day and thrice again by night, they gave aloose to tears and doleful\ncries.\u201d\n\n\u201cBy Heaven,\u201d exclaimed the worthy king at this, \u201cwhat felon act!\u201d\n\n\u201cBy all the saints of heaven,\u201d said the queen, \u201cthis was the reign of\nhaughty pride run wild!\u201d\n\n\u201cYea,\u201d from the litter did Taulat respond, \u201cI had, good sooth, most\nwicked, foolish pride; but I have lost it all. A leech appeared, who in\na space most brief did work a cure. I sought in vain a knight who could\nmake head against me, and I've found my match. Never did better jouster\nwield a lance: modest as brave, and generous as good, spite of my\ninsults,--which did merit death,--Sir Jaufry gave me grace, and granted\npardon. You, noble sire, who are the best of kings, deign but to imitate\nhis clemency, find {130}pardon give for that most foolish crime I here\ndid madly do.\u201d\n\nThe worthy king, alway to good inclined, his pardon freely granted\nto the knight; nay more, he used such reasons with the queen, that\nGuenever, as generous, noble dame, her pardon likewise gave. Melyan\nalone remained inflexible. Rejecting all entreaty, he resolved, as was\nhis right, since his was _corporal shame_, that Taulat should be judged\nby legal court.\n\nAt once they called a hundred legists in, who, when they'd heard the\ncause, the following sentence did at once proclaim:\n\n\u201cTaulat to Melyan shall be given up; who, month by month, shall bind\nhim to like stake, and by like hands on him inflict like punishment. The\ncourt doth grant this power unto Melyan for seven years; with liberty\nalbeit in him to set his prisoner free whene'er he feel inclined to\ngrant him grace.\u201d\n\nAt {131}the same hour the legists sentence passed, Sir Jaufry, riding\nquickly with the maid, before the towers of Augier arrived. Warned of\nhis coming by the vassals' cries, who gave him joyful welcome and warm\nthanks for having set their lord and suzerain free, Augier mounted\nquickly on his horse, and with his sons came out to meet the knight.\nBeside Sir Jaufry he perceived the maid, guiding with sweeter grace than\nI can tell her gentle palfrey; but he knew her not, for she was veiled.\nDescending from his horse as he approached the knight, who eke alighted\nas he saw him come, he seized his hand, and with a trembling voice,--\u201cMy\nlord,\u201d he said, \u201cwithin my castle come, as you did promise me. We will\nmost gladly there a welcome give, albeit my heart is melting with its\nwoe. Since {132}last we two did meet, a monster hath my daughter carried\noff, and with her all my joys.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou did not guard her with sufficient care,\u201d Sir Jaufry mildly said,\n\u201csince she is gone. What now remains to do? It was to be. None can avert\nhis fate; so be consoled, and dry at once your tears. Some days agone\nI won a maid in fight, gentle and lovely as a maid can be; and if you\nwill, to you I'll give her up, that she may take the place of her that's\nlost.\u201d\n\n\u201cAlas, my lord,\u201d good Augier replied, \u201cwhere is the damsel or the dame\nthat can compete with her in grace, in gentle manners, gaiety, and love?\nHer like is still unborn; and for my rest of days this world to me can\nnaught, alas, afford of happiness or ease.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd I do still the contrary affirm; and more than that, declare that\nyou this damsel shall her equal find in beauty and in love.\u201d\n\nIn speaking thus Sir Jaufry raised her veil; and Augier looking, his\nsweet daughter knew. When he had pressed her often in his arms, a\nthousand grateful thanks bestowed on Jaufry, and listed to the tale of\nhis exploits with Taulat and the giant, he to the castle led the way,\nthe serfs and vassals following in troops.\n\nGreat {133}was the honour they there showed the knight: the brothers\npoured the water for his use, the damsel served him with her own fair\nhands a roasted peacock nobly bedecked, and Augier fain had kept him\nthere a month; but Jaufry, frankly owning that his heart allured him to\nMontbrun, set out the morrow mom. Escorted by his host and his two sons\nhe took his way, musing on Brunissende; when, at the hour of noon, he\nmet her seneschal, just then returned from fair Carlisle, where he had\nTaulat seen and Melyan and the five hundred knights from bondage freed.\n\nHe still was seeking by his dame's command brave Dovon's son; but\nhalf-despaired success. Scarcely, however, did he learn the truth, that\nMelyan's saviour and the weary knight who in the orchard slumbered were\nthe same, when, urging his horse, ne'er did he stop until Montbrun was\nreached, where travel-soiled he came to Brunissende.\n\n\u201cWhere is the knight?\u201d asked she before the man could e'en unclose his\nlips. \u201cCometh he on? shall I soon see him here?\u201d\n\n\u201cHe follows me, fair lady,\u201d he replied; \u201cbut such his deeds, whereof\nthe saving of our lord from pain and torment is but one, that I do think\n'twere well you met {134}the knight, and with a hundred damsels formed\nescort.\u201d\n\nThe thought pleased Brunissende. She orders gave to deck the roads with\ngreen, to hang rich stuffs and silk, damask and doth-of-gold, upon the\ncastle-walls; while she herself, mounting her palfrey white, with all\nher court and knights and damsels fair, went out to meet Sir Jaufry.\nArrayed most richly in a silken robe with trimmings of pure gold, she\nhad upon her blondin tresses placed a gorgeous wreath, where peacock's\nfeathers shone; while in her hand she bore the choicest flowers from her\ngarden culled. No wonder, then, if Jaufry were surprised to see her come\nthus lovely, full of grace, and smiling as the queen of the sweet south.\nWith courteous words they met, and side by side to Montbrun's lordly\nhalls together they returned.\n\n[Illustration: 171]\n\nI leave you to surmise the games and joy which at the castle on that day\nwere seen.\n\n[Illustration: 176]\n\nJaufry and Brunissende the fair alone nor ate nor oped their lips. The\nlady glanced at Jaufry with a sigh, and each sweet glance shot through\nhis softened eyes and fell into his heart; while Jaufry, on his side, at\nevery moment blushed, and through the very marrow of his bones by\ndart {135}invisible did feel that he was pierced. Musing of love, the\nlive-long night they watched till rosy morning came. In her chamber the\nfair lady, and Jaufry on his gorgeous couch, thought but of the gentle\nspeeches they would make the morrow mom; and, when once the sun had\nrisen, they were up and quickly clad; and when mass at length was over,\nside by side they sat them down in the great hall of the castle, where\nthey oped their swelling hearts.\n\n'Twas Brunissende who first the silence broke; for, dazzled by her\nbeauty, Jaufry lost in gazing on her face the pretty speeches he had\nframed o'ernight.\n\n\u201cMy lord,\u201d she said, in voice of sweetest tone, \u201cyour coming brings\nus joy and happiness; no service could be higher than the one you've\nrendered us; and bless we good King Arthur in his knight, bless we the\nland which claims so brave a man, and--bless we too the lady for whose\nsake such noble acts are done.\u201d\n\n\u201cAlas,\u201d sighed Jaufry, at this latter phrase, \u201cno lady cares for me.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou speak in jest,\u201d said then fair Brunissende; \u201cyour sense and valour\nraise you up too high for noble lady not to care for you.\u201d\n\n\u201c_I_ care perhaps for _her_; not she for me.\u201d\n\n\u201cKnows {136}she at least of this your love for her?\u201d\n\n\u201cI cannot say, fair lady, if she guess; but I ne'er told my love.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo blame can then at least alight on her: if you ne'er seek where lies\nthe remedy of that same evil whereof you complain, who is in the wrong?\u201d\n\n\u201c'Tis I, sweet lady, I. Her greatness curbs me, fills me with strange\nfears; I cannot ask her love, for ne'er an emperor who trod this earth\nbut by that love were honoured;--such is the height, above all other\ndames, to which she's raised by sovereign grace and wealth.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat you now say is folly, gallant knight; emperors and kings ne'er won\nin true love's lists a greater prize than brave and courteous man: such\nlove holds not to riches; noble heart and gentle grace have in his court\nmore power than lands and titles. How many, folks there are of high\ndescent whose worth is valued highly at a groat! How many others rolling\nin bright gold whose value would not buy a coat of mail! Hide, then,\nno longer in your single heart the thought with which it's filled; your\nvalour and your deeds give you a claim to match upon this earth with the\nmost fair, most high.\u201d\n\n[Illustration: 180]\n\nSir {137}Jaufry heaved a sigh, and thus, much moved, replied:\n\n\u201cLady, forgive, I pray you, the avowal which you, forsooth, are destined\nnow to hear,--avowal that no torture e'er had drawn, but which is due\nto those sweet words of yours. You, then, are she for whom my heart doth\nmelt; she whom I love and fear and I implore; she who doth hold the\nkeys of all my joys, my pains, and who can make of me, even at her will,\nfoolish or wise, a coward or a brave.\u201d\n\nAt length had Brunissende the fair attained the sum of her desire; yet\nshe her joy concealed, and in a tone of playfulness exclaimed:\n\n\u201cSir Jaufry, you are pleased to banter me; ne'er can I think I have the\npower you say.\u201d\n\n\u201cA thousand times more power, you may believe, than I can ever tell.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat we shall prove right soon,\u201d she made reply. \u201cThe age is spoiled\nby wicked usages: true courtesy is lost, and he who warmly vows that he\ndoth love too oft but utters lies. If you full truly wish to have _my_\nlove, I must be wed as well as wooed, my lord.\u201d\n\nSir Jaufry cared not, you may well believe, such offer to refuse. He had\njust vowed by Peter and St.\n\nPaul {138}naught upon earth such joy could give to him, when a knight\nentered, heating on his shield, to announce the coming of the Lord of\nBrunissende.\n\n\u201cTo horse, good knights, to horse!\u201d the lady cried; when lords and\ndamsels, mounting in hot haste, went out to meet their suzerain.\n\nAs thus the cavalcade rode gaily off, headed by Jaufry and fair\nBrunissende, they saw approach two ladies dressed in black, with eyes\nall red and swimming with fresh tears. Jaufry saluted them, and then\ninquired for tidings of Lord Melyan; but one of them in under-tone\nreplied, and with a sigh, that of Lord Melyan nothing did she know; she\nthought but of her woes. *\n\n     * This is the original of Cervantes' Princess Micomicona:\n\n     \u201cEs matar a un gigantazo que lo pide es la alta princesa\n     Micomicona, reyna del gran reyno Micomicon\u201d (D. Quijote,\n     parte i. lib. iv. cap. xxix.).\n\n\u201cTell us,\u201d said Jaufry, \u201cwhy you shed these tears.\u201d\n\n\u201cSince you do wish to know, my lord, I'll speak the truth. A knight,\nmisshapen, and ill-bred to boot, wishes to force on me his odious love;\nand I in grief have left King Arthur's court, where I have neither found\nadvice nor aid.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou {139}do astonish me,\u201d Sir Jaufry cried; \u201cwhere was Sir Gawain then?\nIvan the courteous, Coedis that brave knight, Tristrem and Calogrant,\nLancelot du Lac, Eric and Caravis, and bitter Quex,--pray, where were\nthey?\u201d\n\n\u201cI know it not, by Heaven, good my lord; nor have I any trust but in Sir\nJaufry, that most famous knight, whom now I seek, that he may turn my\nfate, and my good right maintain.\u201d\n\n\u201cI will maintain it, certes,\u201d then Jaufry said; \u201cfor I am he, the Jaufry\nwhom you seek; but I must first conclude a matter here which before all\nthings claims my every thought.\u201d\n\nThe mourning lady wept and urged her suit, spite of the angry looks of\nBrunissende. Sir Jaufry would not yield, but to Montbrun with Melyan\nstraight returned. The lady there, giving all cause to think that to her\nsuzerain she bowed her will, was for long time entreated she her hand\nshould give to Dovon's son; then they set out for Carlisle's gallant\ncourt, and in their train were twice twelve hundred maids, and full\nthree thousand knights in brilliant arms.\n\nThe three first days of travel naught occurred; but on the fourth,\nhaving pitched their tents in a green {140}mead, balmy with flowers, and\nshut in with trees, Jaufry and Melyan suddenly did hear a voice which\nhelp implored in piercing tone. The son of Dovon called for horse and\narms, and would alone go seek this cause of wail. He thus arrived upon\nthe borders of a pond of some extent and limpid water, where a damsel\nstood tearing her hair and robe, and, in her grief, her face.\n\n\u201cMy lord,\u201d she cried, as Jaufry hastened up, \u201chave pity, for St. Mary's\nsake, upon a dame who in this pond is drowning; she was the best, the\nwisest of her sex.\u201d\n\nJaufry advanced; and there, in truth, he saw, within the waters battling\nwith death, a dame, who now appeared, now slid beneath the wave. He\nsoon alighted, and his efforts used to save her with the butt-end of\nhis lance; but whilst his arm was thus outstretched, and he stood by the\nbrink, the damsel pushed him with such hearty will, at once he toppled\nin, which she perceiving, leapt in after him.\n\n[Illustration: 186]\n\nDrawn downward by the great weight of his arms, Sir Jaufry disappeared\nwith those two dames. The neighing and the rage of his good horse, which\npawed the ground and madly bit the earth about the {141}pond, announced\nthis dire mischance to Melyan. He hastened there; and finding Jaufry\ndrowned, he swooned away. 'Twas then the rest, 'mong whom the news had\nflown, galloped frill speed towards that fatal pond. Force was required\nto drag Lord Melyan off; for, when restored, he tried to drown himself;\nand, for fair Brunissende, she by her seneschal was barely saved, since,\nJaufry lost, she would not him survive.\n\nJoining her cries to dames' and damsels' moans and to the lamentations\nof her lords,--\n\n\u201cO Jaufry, Jaufry!\u201d sobbed she wildly out, \u201cfrank, generous knight,\nall-powerful at arms, who then hath ta'en thy life? Some traitor-blow\nhath struck thee by surprise; for living man could ne'er have fairly\nwon. O Jaufry! lone on earth, what good am I? Worthless is life, which\nkeeps me far from thee. I pray for death, which comes not at my call.\nWhere shall I seek this truant senseless death, which will not reunite\nme to my love? There 'neath yon water doth his body lie, which calls me,\nwaits in vain.\u201d\n\nThen suddenly upspringing, lost, and mad with grief, she to the\ntreach'rous water wildly flew; and 'twas by dint of strength they\ndragg'd her back. Then she {142}her tresses tore, her lovely face, till\nin a swoon her woe and sense were numbed.\n\nGood Augier had her carried to her tent, where on her couch the damsels\nlaid her down; then he returned, and with the other knights around the\nfatal wave did weep and groan. Such were their tears, their mourning,\nand their cries, that the archbishop learnt the fatal news, and to\nconsole that doleful train proceeded to the mead.\n\nWith wisdom there he preached, and in his sermon said:\n\n\u201cMy friends, the Scripture teacheth us that God is master of all things,\nand when He pleaseth can again resume those gifts He hath bestowed. If,\nthen, Sir Jaufry hath been ta'en by Him, He, as His work, might freely\ncall him back; and it were sin to find such judgment ill, and felony\ntowards our Sovereign Lord. They among you who held this brave knight\ndear, should now to heaven pray he may be saved; and should at once give\no'er these cries of woe, as vain rebuke towards your Heavenly King.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X. THE GIANT.\n\nWhile the archbishop preached beside the pond, Sir Jaufry found himself\nwith those two dames in a delicious land. Valley and plain, water and\nshady grove, city and castle,--all was charming there.\n\n[Illustration: 191]\n\nBefore he well recovered his surprise, the lovelier of his two\ncompanions said:\n\n\u201cI now, sir knight, do hold you in my power; perchance this time you'll\nnot refuse to do the service which with tears I begged of you some so\nshort days agone.\u201d\n\n\u201cLady,\u201d Sir Jaufry wondering replied, \u201cmethinks I ne'er set eyes on you\nbefore.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am that weeping dame who did entreat you to defend her rights 'gainst\nFelon d'Albaru, a wicked wretch, {144}whom God confound! This monster,\nwho doth not deserve the name of knight, since he doth naught but plan\nmost villain acts and set vile snares, bears on his shoulders more the\nhead of horse or bull than that of living man. His eyes are large as\neggs; his features horrible; his lips are thick and black; his fangs\nproject from out his mouth, which is itself huge as a leopard's jaw; and\nagainst nature are his frightful shape, distended body, and misshapen\nlegs.\n\n\u201c'Tis not to fright you, good my lord, I draw this portrait of my\nfoe,--your heart ne'er harboured fear: but true it is, he doth all men\nalarm; so that his aspect, at a distance seen, doth scare away all such\nas would defend my cause. As yet in fight invincible, he hath despoiled\nmy lands and all the country round; I but my castle now have left to\nme, and that tomorrow must be given up, if God and you oppose not such\ndecree. But I would rather suffer torture, death, than fall into his\npower.\u201d\n\n\u201cIs all this true?\u201d asked Jaufry.\n\n\u201cYea, lord, by the faith!\u201d\n\n\u201cSince yours' the right, I'll battle with this foe; but you have wrong'd\nme, and fair Brunissende hath certes her thoughts on death.\u201d\n\n\u201cShe,\u201d {145}said the lady, \u201cfear not, will not die; and you will me have\nsaved.\u201d\n\nAs thus discoursing, they the castle reached; a building strong,\nsurrounded by good walls, with fosses, cut from out the solid rock,\nfilled with a living stream. Jaufry was there most grandly entertained\nby that fair lady's vassals; and mom come, when he had dressed and\narmour buckled on, bathed well his face and hands, and prayed to Heaven\nto give him grace that day and strength to uphold the right of the\noppressed, he with humility attended mass, and gave seven marks of\nsilver.\n\nWhen mass was done, he to the terrace mounted with the dame and with\nher damsels, and watched for Felon's coming. Short space elapsed during\ntheir stopping there, he suffering in his heart for Brunissende's just\ngrief, ere a bright band of knights appeared upon the plain.\n\n\u201cLady,\u201d he then inquired, \u201cis this our foe?\u201d\n\n\u201c'Tis he, my lord, with all his train. He rides ahead of them.\u201d\n\n\u201cLet him then come, and we will hear his cause.\u201d Felon came gently on,\nbearing upon his fist a hawk most rare as it was beautiful. It had a\nslender neck, a {146}large beak sharper than a razor's edge, long wings,\na tail a palm at least in length, a sinewy leg, and strong and shapely\nfoot.\n\nJust as he came beneath the castle-walls, Felon perceived some hundred\ncranes all grouped about the grass of a small verdant close; at once he\nloosed the hawk, which flying off, began to wheel about the grassy spot,\nthen rose up in the air to such vast height, scarce could the eye detect\nhis presence there. Some time elapsed, then straightway down he shot,\nand pounced upon the cranes with cry so dread, that, fluttering and\nhiding in the grass, they let themselves by Felon's men be caught\nwithout attempting to escape away.\n\nWhen they had thus some dozens of them ta'en, Felon recalled the bird,\nwhich on his fist again returned to perch.\n\n\u201cBy Heaven!\u201d quoth Jaufry, muttering half-aloud, \u201cthat man possesseth a\nright precious bird; never was finer seen or one more stanch; and could\nI win it, and return above, 'twould be a worthy present for the king.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou shall return full soon, my gentle lord,\u201d the lady smiling said,\n\u201cand shall bear with you, I have little doubt, both Felon's bird and\narms.\u201d\n\nDuring {147}this time the giant had drawn near; and when he stood before\nthe castle-bridge, with all his strength he cried:\n\n\u201cCome down, all you who there above do stand; and with you bring along\nthat idle jade, whom I will make the servant of my squires.\u201d\n\n\u201cMy lord,\u201d said Jaufry calmly in reply, \u201cif you left here the jade\nwhereof you speak, pray you to point her out, and none will strive such\nperson to detain.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou know full well the meaning of my words. Give up the dame and\ncastle, as agreed.\u201d\n\n\u201cAll covenant is sacred.\u201d\n\n\u201cSo give up the dame.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut if you please, my lord,\u201d Sir Jaufry said, \u201cwhere is the right by\nwhich you claim such prize?\u201d\n\n\u201cThe right of my good pleasure, signor knave; who soon shall dangle on a\nhempen rope.\u201d\n\n\u201c'Tis an ill answer, savouring great pride. But all injustice doth not\nwin its end. You would abuse your strength against a woman having no\ndefence. Go arm yourself; for Heaven hath sent her one who will maintain\nher right.\u201d\n\n\u201cAn the saints help me,\u201d Felon then replied, \u201cyou shall pay dearly for\nthose words of yours.\u201d\n\nGiving {148}his squire the hawk without delay, he donned his hauberk and\nhis armour rich, buckled his helm, and seized his lance and shield; when\nout he cried:\n\n\u201cLet that pert knave descend who wants to fight: we soon shall see upon\nthis very spot how he doth wield his arms.\u201d\n\nSir Jaufry went to put his armour on, and as he did so, made to God his\nprayer; crossed he the drawbridge without noise or vaunt, while the fair\nlady and her vassals knelt and made this orison:\n\n\u201cThou, Lord, who didst Thy hands upon the cross permit Thy foes to nail,\nand let an infidel pierce through Thy side, now grant to Jaufry strength\nto conquer Felon!\u201d\n\nThe champions met within the verdant close where the hawk chased the\ncranes. And when the giant did Sir Jaufry see, fiercely he cried:\n\n\u201cHast thou thy senses, fool, to dare meet such as I?--I, who could\nvanquish full a score like thee?\u201d\n\n\u201cHigh vaunts like these,\u201d Sir Jaufry calmly said, \u201cI hold as little\nworth; for idle words are but as empty wind. Now list: if thou wilt\nrender back unto the dame who owns yon castle even the smallest thing\nthou {149}hast unjustly filched from her away, thou mayst depart without\na scratch or wound.\u201d\n\n\u201cFine bargain, on my faith,\u201d the giant said; \u201cthou dost pretend to grant\nme thy good grace: and I affirm I will not quit this spot till with this\nhand I've torn thee limb from limb.\u201d\n\n\u201cNow I no more can list; pride blinds thy sense. Henceforth, then,\nbeware of me!\u201d\n\nAnd Jaufry at these words wheeled round his horse to give him a broad\nfield, when at full gallop he did rush at Felon. Seeing him come, the\nlatter grasped his shield, and flew to strike him with such dire shock,\nboth horse and knight were thrown. But in the encounter Jau-fry's steady\nlance had broken his shield and pierced the arm right through. Like\nlightning Dovon's son was on his feet, his good sword firmly grasped.\nMad with his wound, Felon came running up, and loudly cried:\n\n\u201c'Eore Heaven, villain, thy last hour is come, and without mercy shall\nthy carcass swing!\u201d\n\nIt was his thought to pin him to the earth; but Jaufry dealt his horse\nso true a blow, it clean shaved off his head. So both were now afoot,\nand front to front with the same arms: now we shall shortly learn which\nis the better knight.\n\nFelon, {150}all pale, with foam upon his lips, struck with his sword\nupon Sir Jaufry's helm a blow so strong, it pared the visor off; the\nlatter dealt him in his turn a stroke which made his shield-arm droop.\nBut such the force with which he gained this point his sword escaped\nhis hand. This Felon seeing, he his foot placed on't, so that the\nknight might not resume the blade; then he again assailed him with such\nstrength, fire flew from out his helm.\n\n\u201cYield thee, sir knight!\u201d the giant fiercely cried, \u201csince thou art now\ndisarmed.\u201d\n\nSir Jaufry answered not, but raised his shield to ward a blow that\nseemed intended to conclude the fight; for Felon's sword fell on it with\nsuch force, it shivered it in bits, and full two feet the blade struck\nin the earth.\n\nQuick as the lightning's flash the youthful knight darted to raise his\nown, which when he held, he turned again on Felon. He, humbled in his\npride, exclaimed aloud:\n\n\u201cMercy, sir knight; O, mercy! pray restrain thine hand, and hold me at a\nransom!\u201d\n\n\u201cSince you speak thus,\u201d Sir Jaufry made reply, dragging the giant's\nsword from out the ground, \u201crender {151}yourself to _her_ you have so\noppressed. As for myself, no ransom do I wish saving yon hawk which\nchased erewhile the cranes.\u201d\n\nFelon then called about him all his knights, who bore him to the castle.\nThere, when the leech had bound his gaping wounds, they laid him on\na couch borne by two quiet steeds; whilst the fair dames, followed by\nnumerous train, led Jaufry back to where they brought him from.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI.  THE COURT OF CARLISLE.\n\nLord Melyan {153}and his troop were still encamped upon the borders of\nthe magic pond. Judge their surprise, their shouts, their whirl of joy,\nwhen, 'mid a numerous train, Sir Jaufry rose!\n\nAs for fair Brunissende, so great the emotion which such change\nproduced, it found no vent in words, but in a swoon she fell into his\narms. Jaufry related how the fairy's art had to her country led him\nthrough the deep and darksome waters; how he had vanquished her great\ngiant foe, and gained the wondrous hawk for the good king. Then, the\nrecital o'er, they gaily took their way, and at the peep of the next\nfollowing morn they saw fair Carlisle's towers. Leaving their train a\nlittle way behind, Jaufry and Melyan, clad in armour bright, pranced\non the glacis with eight chosen knights. {154}Such a brarado at King\nArthur's court could not unnoticed pass. Quex, the high seneschal, soon\ncrossed the bridge, and meeting Jaufry, cried:\n\n\u201cGood sooth, sir knight, thou shalt repent thy coming.\u201d\n\n\u201c'Tis thou shalt feel repentance more than I,\u201d responded Jaufry, who\ndivined the man, and meeting him full speed, did with such strength and\nart assail Sir Quex, he hurled him to the ground.\n\nAs he essayed to struggle to his feet, he reeled a pace, then fell,\nwhile Jaufry cried:\n\n\u201cWhy how now, jolly Quex? what say'st, art drunk?\u201d\n\nGawain had now appeared upon the field, spurring his horse to join in\nthe affray. Sir Jaufry went to meet the worthy lord, and as he yielded\nup Sir Quex's horse:\n\n\u201cTo you alone, good knight,\u201d he said, \u201cI yield.\u201d\n\nGawain then knew the voice of Dovon's son, and pressed him in his arms;\nwhich, when his squire had learnt, he flew to take the tidings to the\nking. Good Arthur overjoyed then left his halls, and with a gallant\nhost of knights and lords came forth to honour Taulat's vanquisher. Fair\nBrunissende he courteously did greet with all her train; then, smiling,\nsaid to Jaufry:\n\n\u201cHath, then, our seneschal on you his horse thus gen'rously bestowed?\u201d\n\n\u201cMy lord,\u201d the son of Dovon made reply, \u201cperchance you may remember, on\nthe day I begged you arms to follow Taulat's track, Sir Quex exclaimed,\nI'd fight him better drunk. 'Twas then my wish to teach him, good my\nlord, how I can strike when fasting.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe is well struck, methinks,\u201d the king replied; \u201cand may the lesson\nstead him!\u201d\n\nSaying the words, he led Sir Jaufry in to good Queen Guenever, who,\nas she tended him her rosy cheek, thanked him with warmth for having\n'venged her cause on Taulat. King Arthur on his side did give him thanks\nfor all the precious gifts he there had sent,--the fair white ashen\nlance, the yeoman's dwarf and e'en the leper's too, Estout de Verfeil\nand the captive knights, Melyan, and Taulat's numerous prisoners, with\nEclon d'Albaru; then was the convent-church most richly decked, to which\nthe king in pomp conducted him with the fair Brunissende.\n\n[Illustration: 205]\n\nMore than a score of thousand gallant knights the fair betrothed\naccompanied. The good archbishop, who had {156}chanted mass, before the\naltar joined the happy pair; then to the palace back again they came,\nand the great feast began. At trumpet sound, Lucas the royal steward,\nwith twenty thousand pages clad in vests of scarlet silk, bearing fine\nsnowy cloths, vases of silver and rich cups of gold, flocked to the hall\nto furnish forth the boards. Already harps had tinkled, minstrels tried\nto charm their hearers with the gay romance, when straight into the hall\na squire rushed, crying aloud:\n\n\u201cTo arms! good lords, to arms; defend your lives!\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat hast thou seen, good Mend?\u201d King Arthur said.\n\n\u201cO sire, I've seen a bird, a wond'rous bird, which never man of mother\nborn described. He hath a beak at least ten palms in length, and a huge\nhead large as a fisher's boat; his eyes like carbuncles or diamonds\nshine; and then his feet, good sooth, without a lie they are as big--as\nbig as yonder door. I know not how I did escape his maw; but ne'er\nmethinks was I so near my death.\u201d\n\n\u201cBring me my arms,\u201d exclaimed the gallant king, \u201cthat I may learn\nwhether this squire hath lied.\u201d\n\nGawain, {157}Sir Jaufry, and Lord Melyan, fain would follow him to\nhelp; but he forbade, and thus alone did quit the castle. Scarce had\nhe crossed the bridge, when he beheld this marvellous great bird. He\nquietly drew nigh, his shield on arm, his sword within his hand. But,\nspreading its grand wings, the bird escaped a blow full promptly aimed;\nand by both arms embracing tight the king, rose with its prey full\nswiftly in the air. Ladies and knights despairingly rushed out, and o'er\nthe country spread with rending cries. The bird still rose; and when\nin bulk it seemed no bigger than a crane, it then the king let go. The\ncrowd, all breathless, hastened to the spot, where they expected that\ntheir king would fall crushed from that dizzy height. Not so! ere that\nhe reached the ground the bird had deftly seized on him again, and to\nthe summit of a lofty tower borne him in ease away. Reposing there a\nspace, with rapid wing it flew towards the wood, wheeled with a graceful\nflight, then to the palace brought the king again; itself returning to\na human shape, that of the fair enchanter, whom Arthur pardoned, as he'd\ndone at Pentecost, the fright his trick had caused. And thus did close\nthe joyous nuptial feast of brave Sir Jaufry and fair Brunissende.\n{158}The morrow-morn they left the merry court; and all the train, which\ncalled Sir Melyan lord, escorted back in triumph to Montbrun that happy\npair, meeting upon their way the lady of the pond (she was in fact the\nfairy of Gibel), who there had come to bless their life and love.\n\n[Illustration: 209]\n\nTHE END.","title":"Jaufry the Knight and the Fair Brunissende: A Tale of the Times of King Arthur","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":28501}