Part 15

So King Didier together with the host of the Lombards fled to the place called Mortara, which was then known as Belle-Forêt, because the country was so fair, there to refresh themselves and their horses. On the morning of the next day King Charles with his army drew near the town, and found the Lombards arrayed for the battle. So fierce was the combat that a great multitude of men were slain, both of one party and the other, and for reason of this slaying was the place named Mortara. There, too, on that field died Amis and Amile, for as it had pleased God to make their lives lovely and pleasant together, so in their deaths they were not divided. There also many another hardy knight was slain with the sword. But Didier, together with his Justiciary, and all the multitude of the Lombards, fled to Pavia; and King Charles followed closely after him and lay before the city, and invested it on every side; and lying there he sent to France to seek the Queen and his children. But St. Albin, the Bishop of Angers, and many another bishop and abbot counselled the King and Queen that they should bury those who fell in that battle, and build in that place a church. This counsel greatly pleased the King, so that on the field were built two churches, one by bidding of Charles in honour of St. Eusebius of Verceil, and the other by bidding of the Queen in honour of St. Peter.

Moreover the King caused to be brought the two coffins of stone wherein were buried Amis and Amile, and Amile was carried to the church of St. Peter, and Amis to the church of St. Eusebius. But on the morrow the body of Amile in his coffin of stone was found in the church of St. Eusebius near by the coffin of his comrade, Amis. So have you heard the story of this marvellous fellowship which could not be dissevered, even by death. This miracle did God for His servants--that God Who gave such power to His disciples that in His strength they might move even mountains. Because of this wonder the King and Queen tarried there for thirty days, giving fit burial to the bodies of the slain, and honouring those ministers with many rich gifts.

But all this while the host of Charles toiled mightily for the taking of the city before which it lay. Our Lord also tormented those within the walls so grievously that they might not bear their harness by reason of weakness and of death. At the end of ten months Charles took Didier the King, and all those who were with him, and possessed himself of the city and of all that realm. So Didier the King and his wife were led as captives into France.

But St. Albin, who in his day gave life to the dead and light to the blind, ordained clerks, and priests and deacons in the aforesaid church of St. Eusebius, and bade them always to hold in tireless keeping the bodies of those two comrades, Amis and Amile, who suffered death under Didier, King of Lombardy, the 12th day of October, and are now with our Lord Jesus Christ, Who liveth and reigneth with the Father and the Holy Ghost, world without end. Amen.

OF THE KNIGHT WHO PRAYED WHILST OUR LADY TOURNEYED IN HIS STEAD

Sweet Jesus, what brave warfare doth he make, and how nobly doth he joust, whose feet devoutly seek the church where the Divine Office is rendered, and who assists at the holy mysteries of Him, the spotless Son of the Mother Maid. For this cause will I tell you a certain story, even as it was told to me, for a fair ensample.

There was once a knight, esteemed of all as a wise and courteous lord, stout and of great valour, who dearly loved and honoured the Virgin Mary. The fame of this knight was bruited about all chivalry; so to make proof alike of lisping squire and burly man-at-arms, he set forth to a tourney, together with a strong company. Now by the will of God it chanced that when the day of the tournament was come he fared speedily towards the field, because he would be first at the breaking of the spears. Near by the road was builded a little church, and the bells thereof rang loud and clear to call men to the singing of the holy Mass. So without doubt or hesitation this knight dismounted at the door, and entered within the church to hearken to the service of God. At an altar therein a priest chanted meetly and with reverence a Mass of the holy Virgin Mary. Then another Mass was begun, the good knight yet kneeling devoutly on his knees, and praying our Lady with an earnest heart. When the second Mass came to its appointed end, straightway a third Mass was commenced, forthwith and in the selfsame place.

"Sir, by the holy Body of God," said the squire to his lord, "the hour to tourney hurries by. Why tarry you here? Depart from hence, I pray you. Let us keep to our own trade, lest men deem you hermit or hypocrite, or monk without the cowl!"

"Friend," answered the knight, "most worshipfully doth he tourney who hearkens to the service of God upon his knees. When the Masses are altogether at an end, we will go upon our way. Till then, please God, part from here will I not. But so that all are said, then will I joust to the very utmost of my might, according to the will of God."

With these words the knight refrained from further speech, and turning himself again towards the altar took refuge in the holy liturgy, till the last prayer came to a close with the last chant. Then they got to horse, as was their bounden duty, and rode with speed towards that place where the lists were set for the great play. So, presently, the knights who were returning from the tournament, discomfited and overborne, met him who had carried off all the prizes of the game. They saluted the knight who was on his way from the Divine Offerings, and, joining themselves to his company, praised him to his face, affirming that never before had knight done such feats of arms as he had wrought that day, to his undying fame. Moreover many amongst them drew near and yielded themselves his captives, saying--

"We are your prisoners, for truly we may not deny that you have overthrown us in the field."

Then, taking thought, the knight was amazed no more, for quickly he perceived that She had been upon his business in the press, about whose business he had been within the chapel.

So he called these knights and his fellowship around him, and said right courteously--

"I pray you, one and all, to hearken to my words, for I have that to tell you which never has been heard of ears."

Then he told over to them, word for word, how that he had not jousted in the tournament, neither had broken lance nor hung shield about his neck, by reason of those Masses he had heard, but verily he believed that the Maiden, whom humbly he had besought within the chapel, had worn his harness in the lists. "Altogether lovely in my eyes is this tournament wherein She has done my devoir; but very foully shall I requite such gracious service if I seek another Lady, or in my folly return to the vanities of the world. Therefore I pledge my word to God in truth, that henceforth I will never fight, save in that tourney where He sits, the one true Judge, Who knows the loyal knight, and recompenses him according to his deeds."

Then he bade them farewell right piteously, and many of his company wept tenderly as they took their leave. But he, parting from them, went his way to an abbey, to become the servant of the Handmaid of the Lord, and to follow in that path which leadeth to a holy end.

So, clearly we may perceive from this ensample, that the gracious God, in Whom we put our faith, loves, cherishes, and delights to honour that man who gladly tarries before His holy altar at the offering of the Mass, and who willingly serves His Mother, so gentle and so dear. Of much profit is this custom, and he who is quiet in the land and wise, will always continue to walk in the way his feet were set in youth, yea, even to that time when he is old and grey-headed.

THE PRIEST AND THE MULBERRIES

A certain priest having need to go to market, caused his mare to be saddled and brought to his door. The mare had carried her master for two years, and was high and well nourished, for during these years never had she known thirst nor hunger, but of hay and of oats ever had she enough and to spare. The priest climbed to the saddle and set out upon his journey, and well I remember that it was the month of September, for in that season mulberries grow upon the bushes in great plenty and abundance. The priest rode upon his way repeating his hours, his matins and his vigils. As he drew near the gate of the town the path ran through a certain deep hollow, and raising his eyes from his book the priest marked a bush thick with mulberries, bigger, blacker and more ripe than any he had ever seen. Desire entered his heart, for very covetous was he of this fair fruit, and gradually checking the pace of his mare, he presently caused her to stand beside the bush. Yet one thing still was wanting to his delight. The mulberries near the ground were set about with spines and thorns, whilst the sweetest of all hung so high upon the tree that in no wise could he reach them from his seat. This thing the priest saw, so in a while he climbed up, and stood with his two feet upon the saddle, whence by leaning over a little he could pluck the fruit. Then he chose the fairest, the ripest, and the sweetest of all these mulberries, eating them as swiftly and greedily as he might, whilst the mare beneath him moved never a whit. Now, when this priest had eaten as many mulberries as he was able, he glanced downwards, and saw that the mare was standing still and coy, with her head turned towards the bank of that deep road. Thereat the priest rejoiced very greatly, for his two feet were yet upon the saddle, and the mare was very tall.

"God!" said he, "if any one now should cry 'Gee up!'" He thought and spoke the words at the same moment, whereat the mare was suddenly frighted, and springing forward on the instant tumbled the luckless priest into the bush where the thorns and briars grew sharpest and thickest. There he lay in that uneasy bed, nor might move from one side to the other, backwards or forwards, for all the money in the mint.

The mare galloped straight to her own stable, but when the priest's household saw her return in this fashion they were greatly discomforted. The servants cursed her for an evil and a luckless jade, whilst the cook maid swooned like any dame, for well she believed that her master was dead. When they were returned a little to themselves they ran to and fro, here and there, about the country searching for the priest, and presently on their way to the market town they drew near to that bush where their master yet lay in much misease. On hearing their words bewailing his piteous case, the priest raised a lamentable voice, and cried--

"Diva, Diva, do not pass me by. This bush is an uneasy bed, and here I lie very hurt and troubled and utterly cast down. Do you not see how my blood is staining these thorns and briars a vermeil red?"

The servants hurried to the bush, and stared upon the priest.

"Sir," said they, "who has flung you herein?"

"Alas," answered he, "'tis sin that has undone me. This morning when I rode this way reading in my Book of Hours, I desired over greatly to eat of the mulberries growing hereon, and so I fell into the sin of gluttony. Therefore this bush gat hold upon me. But help me forth from this place, for I wish now for no other thing but to have a surgeon for my hurts, and to rest in my own house."

Now by this little story we may learn that the prudent man does not cry aloud all he may think in his heart, since by so doing many an one has suffered loss and shame, as we may see by this fable of the Priest and the Mulberries.

THE STORY OF ASENATH

In the first of the seven years of great plenty Pharaoh sent forth Joseph to lay up corn, and gather food within the cities. So Joseph went out over all the land of Egypt, and came in the country of Heliopolis, where lived Poti-pherah, the priest, and chief counsellor of the great King. His daughter, Asenath, was the fairest of all the virgins of the earth; and seemed rather to be a daughter of Israel than an Egyptian. But Asenath was scornful and proud, and a despiser of men. No man of all the sons of men had seen her with his eyes, for she lodged within a strong tower, tall and wide, near by the habitation of Poti-pherah, the priest. Now high upon this tower were ten chambers. The first chamber was fair and great, and was builded of marble blocks of divers colours; the walls were of precious stones set in a chasing of gold, and the ceiling thereof was golden. There stood the gods of the Egyptians in metal of silver and gold, and Asenath bowed before them and offered sacrifice, every day of all the days. The second chamber was the habitation of Asenath, and was adorned cunningly with ornaments of gold and silver, with costly gems, and with arras and stuffs most precious. In the third chamber was brought together the wealth of all the world, and in that place also were set the aumbries of Asenath. Seven virgins, her fellows, lodged in the seven other chambers. They were very fair, and no man had spoken with them, nor any male child.

The chamber of Asenath was pierced with three windows; the first, which was very wide, looked towards the east, the second looked towards the south, and the third was set towards the north. Here was spread a couch of gold, covered with a purple coverlet, embroidered with golden thread, and hemmed with jacinths. There slept Asenath, with no bed-fellow, neither had man sat ever upon her bed. About this house was a goodly garden, closed round with a very strong wall, and entered by four iron gates. Each door had for warders eighteen men, very mighty and young, well armed and full of valour. At the right side of the garden sprang a fountain of living water, and near by the fountain a cistern which gave of this water to all the trees of the garden, and these trees bore much fruit. And Asenath was queenly as Sarah, gracious as Rebecca, and fair as Rachel.

_How Joseph rebuked Asenath because she worshipped idols._

Joseph sent a message to Poti-pherah that he would come to his house. So Poti-pherah rejoiced greatly, saying to his daughter, "Joseph, the friend of God, enters herein. I would give thee to him as his wife."

But Asenath was sore vexed when she heard these words, and said--

"No captive shall ever be my husband, but only the son of a king."

Whilst they spake thus together, a messenger came before them and cried, "Joseph is here"; so Asenath fled to her chamber high within the tower. Now Joseph was seated in Pharaoh's own chariot of beaten gold, and it was drawn by four horses, white as snow, with bridles and harness of gold. Joseph was clad in a vesture of fine linen, white and glistering, and his mantle was of purple, spun with gold. He wore a golden circlet upon his head, and in this crown were set twelve stones, most precious, each stone having for ornament a golden star. Moreover he held in his hand the royal sceptre, and an olive branch charged with fruit. Poti-pherah and his wife hastened to meet him, and bowed before him to the ground. They led him within the garden, and caused the doors to be shut. But when Asenath regarded Joseph from on high the tower, she repented her of the words she spoke concerning him, and said--

"Behold the sun and the chariot of the sun! Certainly this Joseph is the child of God; for what father could beget so fair an offspring, and what womb of woman could carry such light."

Joseph entered in the house of Poti-pherah, and whilst they washed his feet he asked what woman had looked forth from the window of the tower.

"Let her go forth from the house," he commanded.

This he said because he feared lest she should desire him, and should send him messages and divers gifts, even as other women of her nation, whom he had refused with holy indignation. But Poti-pherah replied--

"Sire, this is my daughter, who is a virgin, and hateth men; neither hath she seen any man save me, her father, and thyself this very day. If thou wilt, she shall come before thee and salute thee."

Then Joseph thought within himself, "Since she hateth man, she will not cast her eyes upon me." So he answered to her father--

"Since your daughter is a virgin, I will cherish her even as my sister."

Then her mother went out to seek Asenath, and brought her before Joseph.

"Salute thy brother," said Poti-pherah, "who hateth the strange woman, even as thou hatest man."

"God keep thee," replied Asenath, "for thou art blessed of God most high."

And Joseph answered, "May the God of life bless thee evermore."

Then commanded Poti-pherah that she should kiss Joseph; but as she drew near Joseph set his hand against her breast and said--

"It is not meet that a man who worships the living God, and eateth the bread of life and drinketh from the chalice without corruption, should embrace the strange woman, who bows down before deaf and dumb idols; who serves them with the kisses of her mouth; is anointed with their reprobate oil, and eats an accursed bread, and drinks unsanctified wine from their table."

_Of the penitence of Asenath, and of the consolation of an angel; how he came from Heaven to the chamber of Asenath, and spake with her and sweetly comforted her._

When Asenath heard Joseph speak these words she was sore vexed, even unto tears; wherefore Joseph took pity upon her and blessed her, laying his hand upon her head. Asenath rejoiced greatly at the benediction. She sought her bed, sick with fear and joy, and renounced the gods before whom she bowed, and humbled herself to the ground. So Joseph ate and drank, and when he rose to go Poti-pherah prayed him to tarry till the morrow; but he might not, and parted, having promised to return within eight days.

Then Asenath put on sad raiment, such as she wore at the death of her brother, and went clothed in a garment of heaviness. She closed the doors of her chamber upon her and wept. Moreover she flung forth all her idols by the window set towards the north; all the royal meat she gave to the dogs; she put dust upon her head, lay upon the ground, and lamented bitterly for seven days.

But the eighth morning, at the hour when the cock crows and the dogs howl at the breaking of the day, Asenath looked forth from the window giving to the east, and saw a star shining clear, and the heavens open, and there appeared a great light. She fell to earth with her face in the dust, and a man descended from the heavens and stood by her head, calling on her by her name. But Asenath answered nothing, because of the greatness of her fear. Then the man called her a second time, saying, "Asenath! Asenath!" and she replied--

"Lord, here am I. Tell me whom thou art."

And he said--

"I am Prince of the House of God and Captain of His Host. Rise, stand upon thy feet, for I have to speak with thee."

Then Asenath raised her head, and saw a man by her side who in all points was, as it were, Joseph. He was clad in a white stole, and bore the royal sceptre in his hand, and a crown was upon his brow. His face was as the lightning, his eyes as rays of the sun, and the hair of his head like a flame of fire. At the sight of him Asenath was sore afraid, and hid her face upon the ground. But the Angel raised her to her feet, and comforted her, saying--

"Put off this black raiment with which thou art clothed, and this girdle of sadness. Remove the sackcloth from thy body, and the dust from thine head; cleanse thy face and thy hands with living water, and adorn thee with fair apparel, for I have somewhat to say to thee."

So she adorned herself with speed, and when she came to him again he said--

"Asenath, take off this ornament from thine head, for thou art virgin. Rejoice, and be of good cheer, for thy name is written in the Book of Life, and shall never be taken away. Thou art born again this very day and quickened anew. For thou shalt receive the Bread of Blessing, and drink of the Wine without corruption; and be anointed with the Holy Chrism. Yea, I have given thee for wife to Joseph, and thou no more shall be called Asenath, but a name shall be given thee of fair refuge, for thy Penitance hath come before the High King, of whom she is the daughter, and thou shalt ever live before Him in mirth and gladness."

Then inquired she of the Angel his name, but he answered--

"My name is written by the finger of God in the Book of the most high King, but all that is written therein may not be told, neither is it proper for the hearing of mortal man."

_Of the table and of the honey that Asenath set before the Angel, and how the Angel blessed Asenath._

But Asenath caught the angel by his mantle, and said--

"If I have found favour in thine eyes, sit for a little space upon this bed, where never man has sat, and I will spread the table before my lord."

And the Angel replied, "Do quickly."

So Asenath set a fair linen cloth upon the table, and put thereon new bread of a sweet savour. Then said the Angel--

"Give me also a little honey in the honeycomb."

So Asenath was grievously troubled because she had no honey to set before her guest. But the Angel comforted her, saying--

"Look within thine aumbrey, and thou shalt find withal to furnish thy table."

Then she hastened thereto, and found a store of virgin honey, white as snow, of sweetest savour. So she spake to the Angel--

"Sire, I had no honey, but thou spakest the word, and it is there, and the perfume thereof is as the breath of thy mouth."

The Angel smiled at the understanding of Asenath, and placed his hand upon her head, and said--

"Blessed be thou, O Asenath, because thou hast forsaken thy idols, and believed in our living Lord. Yea, blessed are they whom Penitence bringeth before Him, for they shall eat of this honey gathered by the bees of Paradise from the dew of the roses of Heaven; and those who eat thereof shall never see death, but shall live for evermore."

Then the Angel stretched forth his hand and took of the honeycomb and break it; and he ate a little, and gave the rest to the mouth of Asenath, saying--

"This day hast thou eaten of the Bread of Life, and art anointed with the Holy Chrism. Beauty is given thee for ashes; for virtue shall never go from thee, neither shall thy youth wither, nor thy fairness fail; but thou shalt be as the strong city builded as a refuge for the children of our Lord, Who is King for ever more."

Then the Angel touched the honeycomb, and it became unbroken as before. Again he stretched forth his hand, and with his finger signed the cross thereon, and there where his finger touched came forth blood. So he spake to Asenath, and said--

"Behold this honey!"

Whilst she gazed thereon, she saw bees come forth from that honey, some white as snow, others vermeil as jacinths, and they gathered about her, and set virgin honey in the palm of her hand; and she ate thereof, and the Angel with her.

"Bees," said the Angel, "return now to your own place."

So they passed through that window which gave upon the east, and took their way to Paradise.

"Faithful as these bees are the words which I have spoken."

Then the Angel put forth his hand three times, and touched the honey, and fire came forth and consumed the honey without singeing the table, and the perfume which came from the honey and the fire was very sweet.

_Of the blessing of the seven maidens, and of the marriage of Asenath, as set forth in the story._

Asenath said to the Angel--

"Lord, I have with me seven virgins, born in one night, and nourished with me from my childhood until now. I will seek them, and thou shalt bless them, even as thou hast blessed me."

So she brought them before him, and he blessed them, saying--

"May the most high God bless you, and make you to be seven strong columns of the City of Refuge."