Part 8

"Hugh," said the King, "I accord you the grace of one year. If within the year you count me out the tale of these besants, I will take it gladly; but if you fail to gain it, then must you return to your prison, and I will hold you more willingly still."

"Sire, I pledge my word and my faith. Now deliver me such a safe conduct that I may return in surety to my own land."

"Hugh, before you part I have a privy word to speak to you."

"Sire, with all my heart, and where?"

"In this tent, close by."

When they were entered into the pavilion, the Emperor Saladin sought to know of Sir Hugh in what fashion a man was made knight of the Christian chivalry, and required of him that he should show it to his eyes.

"Sire, whom then should I dub knight?"

"Myself," answered the King.

"Sire, God forbid that I should be so false as to confer so high a gift and so fair a lordship even upon the body of so mighty a prince as you."

"But wherefore?" said the King.

"For reason, sire, that your body is but an empty vessel."

"Empty of what, Sir Hugh?"

"Sire, of Christianity and of baptism."

"Hugh," said he, "think not hardly of me because of this. You are in my hand, and if you do the thing that I require of you, what man is there to blame you greatly when you return to your own realm. I seek this grace of you, rather than of another, because you are the stoutest and most perfect knight that ever I may meet."

"Sire," said he, "I will show you what you seek to know, for were it but the will of God that you were a christened man, our chivalry would bear in you its fairest flower."

"Hugh," said he, "that may not be."

Thereupon Sir Hugh made ready all things necessary for the making of a knight; and having trimmed the hair and beard of the King in seemly fashion, he caused him to enter within a bath, and inquired--

"Sire, do you understand the meaning of this water?"

"Hugh, of this I know nothing."

"Sire, as the little child comes forth from the waters of baptism clean of sin, so should you issue from this bath washed pure of all stain and villainy."

"By the law of the Prophet, Sir Hugh, it is a fair beginning."

Then Sir Hugh brought the Sultan before an untouched bed, and having laid him therein, he said--

"Sire, this bed is the promise of that long rest in Paradise which you must gain by the toils of chivalry."

So when the King had lain softly therein for a little space, Sir Hugh caused him to stand upon his feet, and having clothed him in a fair white vesture of linen and of silk, said--

"Sire, this spotless stole you first put on is but the symbol of a body held and guarded clean."

Afterwards he set upon the King a gown of scarlet silk, and said--

"Sire, this vermeil robe keeps ever in your mind the blood a knight must shed in the service of his God and the defence of Holy Church."

Then taking the King's feet in his hands, he drew thereon shoes of brown leather, saying--

"Sire, these brown shoes with which you are shod, signify the colour of that earth from which you came, and to which you must return; for whatever degree God permits you to attain, remember, O mortal man, that you are but dust."

Then Sir Hugh raised the Sultan to his feet, and girt him with a white baldrick, saying--

"Sire, this white cincture I belt about your loins is the type of that chastity with which you must be girded withal. For he who would be worthy of such dignity as this must ever keep his body pure as any maid."

After this was brought to Sir Hugh a pair of golden spurs, and these he did upon the shoes with which the Sultan was shod, saying--

"Sire, so swiftly as the destrier plunges in the fray at the prick of these spurs, so swiftly, so joyously, should you fight as a soldier of God for the defence of Holy Church."

Then at the last Hugh took a sword, and holding it before the King, said--

"Sire, know you the three lessons of this glaive?"

"What lessons are these?"

"Courage, justice and loyalty. The cross at the hilt of his sword gives courage to the bearer, for when the brave knight girds his sword upon him he neither can, nor should, fear the strong Adversary himself. Again, sire, the two sharp edges of the blade teach loyalty and justice, for the office of chivalry is this, to sustain the weak against the strong, the poor before the rich, uprightly and loyally."

The King listened to all these words very heedfully, and at the end inquired if there was nothing more that went to the making of a knight.

"Sire, there is one thing else, but that I dare not do."

"What thing is this?"

"It is the accolade."

"Grant me now this accolade, and tell me the meaning thereof."

"Sire, the accolade is a blow upon the neck given with a sword, and the significance thereof is that the newly made knight may always bear in mind the lord who did him that great courtesy. But such a stroke will I not deal to you, for it is not seemly, since I am here your prisoner."

That night Saladin, the mighty Sultan, feasted in his chamber, with the fifty greatest lords of his realm, emirs, governors and admirals, and Sir Hugh of Tabarie sat on a cushion at his feet. At the close of the banquet Sir Hugh rose up before the King and said--

"Sire, grant me grace. I may not forget that you bade me to seek out all fair and honourable lords, since there is none who would not gladly come to my help in this matter of my ransom. But, fair Sir King, in all the world shall I never find a lord so wise, so hardy, and so courteous as yourself. Since you have taught me this lesson, it is but just and right that I should pray you to be the first to grant me aid herein."

Then Saladin laughed loudly out of a merry heart, and said--

"Pray God that the end be as sweet as the beginning. Truly, Sir Hugh, I will not have it on my conscience that you miss your ransom because of any meanness of mine, and therefore, without guile, for my part I will give you fifty thousand good besants."

Then the great Sultan rose from his throne, and taking Prince Hugh with him, came to each of the lords in turn--emir, governor and admiral--and prayed of him aid in the business of this ransom. So all the lords gave largely out of a good heart, in such measure that Sir Hugh presently acquitted himself of his ransom, and returned to his own realm from amongst the Paynim.

THE STORY OF KING FLORUS AND OF THE FAIR JEHANE

Here begins the story of a certain King who was named King Florus of Ausay. This King Florus was a very stout knight, and a gentleman of proud descent. He was wedded to the daughter of the Prince of Brabant, a gentlewoman of high lineage. Very fair was the maid when she became his dame, slender of shape and dainty of fashion, and the story telleth that she was but fifteen summers old when King Florus became her lord, and he was but of seventeen years. A right happy life they passed together, as becometh bride and groom who wed fondly in their youth; yet because he might have no child of her King Florus was often dolent, and she for her part was vexed full grievously. This lady was very gracious of person, and very devout towards God and Holy Church. She gave alms willingly, and was so charitable that she nourished and clothed the needy, kissing their hands and feet. Moreover, so constant and private in service was she to the lepers of the lazar house, both men and women, that the Holy Ghost dwelt within her. Her lord, King Florus, so long as his realm had peace, rode forth as knight-errant to all the tournaments in Allemaigne and France and many other lands of which the noise reached him; thereon he spent much treasure, and gained great honour thereby.

But now my tale ceases to speak of him, and telleth of a knight who dwelt in the marches of Flanders and of Hainault. This knight was wise in counsel, and brave of heart, very sure and trusty. He had to wife a right fair lady, of whom he had one daughter, young and fresh, named Jehane, a maid of some twelve years. Many sweet words were spoken of this maiden, for in all the country round was none so fair. Her mother prayed often to her lord that he should grant the girl in marriage, but so given were all his thoughts to the running of tourneys that he considered nothing of the trothing of his child, though his wife admonished him ever on his return from the jousts.

This knight had for squire a man named Robert, the bravest squire in any Christian realm. His prowess and his praise were such that oft he aided his lord to bear away the prize from the tournaments whereat he ran. So great was his praise that his lady spake him thus--

"Robert, more careth my lord for these joustings than for any words I speak, which thing is grievous to me, for I would that he gave care and pains to wed this daughter of mine. I pray you, therefore, for love of me, that if you may, you tell him that very ill he does, and is greatly to be blamed, not to marry his own fair child, for there is no knight of these parts, however rich his state, who would not gladly welcome such a bride."

"Lady," said Robert, "you have well spoken. Very readily will I speak thereof, and since my lord asks often of my counsel, every hope have I that he will take heed to my words."

"Robert," said the lady, "you will find me no niggard, so you do this task."

"Lady," said Robert, "your prayer is guerdon enough for me. Be assured I will do all that I may."

"I am content," returned the lady.

Now within a little space the knight made ready to fare to a tournament very far from his land. When he came to the field, he (with a certain knight in whose company he rode) was joined to one party, and his banner was carried to the lodging of his lord. The tilting began, and such deeds did the knight, by the cunning service of his squire, that he bore off the honour and the prize of that tourney from the one side and the other. On the second day the knight prepared to return to his own country; so Robert took him often to task and blamed him greatly that he had not bestowed his fair daughter in marriage. Having heard this many times, at the end his lord replied--

"Robert, thou and thy lady give me no peace in the matter of the marriage of my daughter; but at present I see and know of none in my parts to whom I am content to give her."

"Ah, sir," cried Robert, "there is no knight in your realm who would not receive her right joyously."

"Robert, fair friend, they are worth nothing, not one of them; neither will I bestow her there with my good will. I know of no man in the world who is worthy of her, save one man only, and he, forsooth, is no knight."

"Sir, tell me his name," answered Robert, "and I will find means to speak to him so privily that the marriage shall be made."

"Certes, Robert," returned the knight, "meseems thou art very desirous that my daughter shall be wedded."

"Sir," quoth Robert, "you speak truly, for it is full time."

"Robert," said the knight, "since thou art so hot to carol at her wedding, she shall soon enough be married if thou accord thereto."

"Certes, sir," said Robert, "right willingly will I consent thereto."

"To that you pledge your word?" demanded the knight.

"Truly, sir, yes," answered Robert.

"Robert, thou hast served me very faithfully, and ever have I found thee skilled and true. Such as I am, that thou hast made of me; for by thine aid at the tourneys have I gained five hundred pounds of rent. 'Twas but a short time since that I had but five hundred; whereas now I have one thousand pounds from rent of land. This, therefore, I owe to thee, and I acquit me of my debt by giving thee my fair daughter, so thou art willing to take her at my hand."

"Ah, sir," cried Robert, "for the pity of God, say not thus. I am too low a man to snatch at so high a maiden, nor dare I pretend to one so rich and gracious as my demoiselle, since there is no knight in all the realm, whate'er his breeding, who would not count it honour to be her lord."

"Robert, know of a surety that never shall knight of this country call her his; but I will bestow her on thee, if thou refusest her not, and for her dowry shall she bring thee four hundred pounds from rent of my lands."

"Ah, sir," said Robert, "you are pleased to make a mock of me."

"Robert," said the knight, "be assured this is no jest."

"Ah, sir, neither my lady nor her mighty kin will endure to consent thereto."

"Robert," said the knight, "this matter concerns none of them. Hold, I give thee my glove, and I invest thee with four hundred pounds of my land, and this is my warrant for the delivery thereof."

"Sir," said Robert, "I will not refuse so goodly a gift, since it is given with so true a heart."

"Robert," replied the knight, "the grant is sealed."

So the knight granted him his glove, and invested him with rights in that fair maiden and her land.

Thus they passed upon their ways until it fortuned that this knight returned to his own house. When he was entered therein, his wife--that comely dame--received him right sweetly, and said--

"Husband, for the love of God, give thought at this time to the marriage of our maid."

"Dame," said her lord, "thou hast spoken so often of this matter that I have trothed her already."

"Sir," inquired the lady, "to whom?"

"Certes, dame, I have pledged her to a man who will ever be loyal and true. I have given her to Robert, my squire."

"To Robert! Alas the day," quoth the lady. "Robert is but a naked man, nor is there a knight, however noble, in all this realm who would not have taken her gladly. Certainly Robert shall have none of her."

"Dame, have her he shall, for I have delivered to him as my daughter's portion four hundred pounds in rent of land, and all his rights therein I warrant and will maintain."

When the lady heard this thing she was sore troubled, and said to her lord that of a surety should Robert never possess her maid.

"Dame," said her husband, "have her he shall, with good will or with bad will, for I have made a covenant with him, and will carry out my bargain."

When the lady heard these words of her lord she sought her chamber, and wept and lamented very grievously. After her tears were shed then she sent to seek her brothers and other kinsmen of her house, and showed them of that thing her lord would do, and they said--

"Lady, what have we to do herein? We have no care to go counter to your lord, for he is a stout knight, weighty of counsel and heavy of hand. Moreover, can he not do as he will with his daughter, and his land besides? Know you well that for this cause will none of us hang shield about his neck."

"Alas," said the lady, "never may my heart find happiness again, if thus I lose my child. At the least, fair lords, I pray and require you to show him that should he make this marriage he acts not rightly, nor after his own honour."

"Lady," said they, "this we will do full willingly."

So they sought out the knight and acquitted themselves of their task, and he answered them in courteous wise--

"Fair lords, I will tell you what I can do for your love. So it be your pleasure, I will defer this marriage on such understanding as I now declare. You are great lords, and are rich in gold and lands. Moreover, you are near of kin to this fair maid of mine, whom very tenderly I love. If on your part you will endue her with four hundred pounds of rent on your lands, I, on mine, will disavow this bond of marriage, and will wed the girl according to your wise counsel."

"In the name of God," answered they with one accord, "would you spoil us of all the wealth in our wallets?"

"Since, then," replied the knight, "you may not do this thing, suffer me to do as I will with my own."

"Sir, with right good mind," answered they.

Then the knight sent for his chaplain, and before him affianced Robert and his fair daughter together, appointing a certain day for the marriage. But on the third day Robert prayed his lord that he would dub him knight, since it was not seemly that he should take a wife so fair and of such high station till he was of her degree. His lord agreed thereto with a glad heart, and on the morrow granted him his desire; therefore after the third day he married the fair maid with great joy and festival.

At the hour Messire Robert was made knight he spake thus to his lord--

"Sir, once when I was in grievous peril of death, I vowed to seek St. James's shrine on the morrow of that day I gained my spurs. I pray you be not wroth with me if to-morrow morn it becomes my honour to wend thither directly after this marriage, for in no wise will I fail to observe my vow."

"Certes, Messire Robert, if you do this despite to my daughter, and go lonely upon your road, very rightly will you be held to blame."

"Sir," said he, "so it pleases God, I shall soon return, but go I must on peril of my soul."

When a certain knight of the lord's household heard these words, greatly he reproached Messire Robert for parting from his bride at such an hour, but Robert answered him that he durst not break his oath.

"Truly," said the knight, who was named Raoul, "truly if you wend thus to St. James's shrine, leaving so fair a bride but a wedded maid, very surely will I win her love ere you return. Certain proofs, moreover, will I give that I have had my way with her; and to this will I pledge my lands against the lands our lord has granted you, for mine are fully worth the rents of yours."

"My wife," answered Messire Robert, "does not come of a race to deal me so shrewd a wrong, and since I give no credence to your words, willingly will I make the wager, if so it pleases you."

"Yes," said Raoul, "and to this you pledge your faith?"

"Yea," said Messire Robert, "willingly. And you?"

"I, too, pledge my faith. Now let us seek our lord forthwith, and set before him our bargain."

"That is my desire also," said Messire Robert.

Then they went straight to their lord and laid before him this wager, and plighted troth to observe their covenant. So in the morning Messire Robert was married to the fair maiden, and when the bridal Mass was ended, incontinent he parted from the hall, without tasting the wedding meats, and set forth on his way, a pilgrim to Compostella.

Now ceaseth the tale to speak of him, and telleth of Raoul, who was hot in thought as to how he might gain the wager and have to do with the fair lady. So relateth the tale that the lady behaved very discreetly whilst her husband was on pilgrimage, for she spent much time upon her knees in church, praying God to bring her lord again. For his part Messire Raoul was in a heat in what manner he might win the wager, for more and more it seemed to him that he should lose his land. He sought speech with an old dame who attended on the lady, promising that so she brought him in such a place and hour that he might speak privily to Madame Jehane, and have his will, then he would deal so largely with her, that never in her life should she be poor.

"Certes, sir," said the crone, "you are so lovely a knight, so sweet in speech and so courteous, that verily it is my lady's duty to set her love upon you, and it will be my pleasure to toil in your service."

So the knight took forty sous from his pouch, and gave them to her that she might buy a kirtle. The old woman received them greedily, and hiding the money in a secret place promised to speak to her lady. The knight bade farewell, and went his way, but the crone tarried in that place, and when her lady entered from the church said straitly--

"Lady, for God's love, tell me truly, when my lord went to Compostella did he leave you a maid?"

"Why ask you such a question, Dame Hersent?"

"Because, lady, I believe you to be a virgin wife!"

"Certes, Dame Hersent, and that I am, nor do I know woman who would be aught else in my case."

"Lady," returned Dame Hersent, "ah, the pity of it! If you but knew the joy that women have in company of the man they love, you would say that there is no fonder happiness to be found on earth. Greatly I marvel, therefore, that you love not, _par amours_, seeing that every lady loveth with her friend. Were the thing but pleasing to you, fair falleth the chance, for well I know a knight, comely of person, sweet and wise of speech, who asks naught better than to set on you his love. Very rich is he, and lovelier far than the shamed recreant who has left you in this plight. If you are not too fearful to grant him grace, you can have of him all that you please to ask, and such joy moreover as no lady can hope for more."

Whilst the crone was speaking, the lady, who was but a woman, felt her senses stir within. Curiously she inquired who this knight should be.

"Who is he, lady? God above! one has no fear to cry his name! Who should it be but that lovely lord, so courteous, so bold, Messire Raoul, of your father's house, the sweetest heart of all the world."

"Dame Hersent," said the lady, "you will do well to let these words be, for I have no wish to do myself such wrong, neither come I of such stock as goes after shame."

"Dame," replied the old woman, "I know it well; but never can you have the joy of maid with man."

Thus ended their discourse; but presently Sir Raoul came again to the crone, and she made plain to him how she had spoken to her lady, and in what fashion she was answered.

"Dame Hersent," said the knight, "so should a virtuous lady reply; but I pray you speak again with her of this matter, for the archer does not wing the bird with a first arrow; and, stay, take these twenty sous, and buy a lining to your coat."

So that ancient dame took the gift, and wearied the lady with enticing words, but nothing came of all her proffers.

Slowly or quickly thus passed the days, till came the tidings that Sir Robert was on his way from Compostella, and was already near to Paris. Very speedily this news was noised abroad, and Sir Raoul, fearing greatly to lose his lands, again sought speech with the crone. Then said the old woman that in no wise could she snare the bird, but that for the great love she bore him this thing she would do--so he would recompense her service--namely, that she would put matters in such a case that none should be in the house save himself and the lady, and then he could act according to his pleasure, whether she would or whether she would not. So Raoul answered that he desired no other thing.

"This I will do," said the old woman. "Messire shall come again in eight days, and on that day shall my lady bathe within her bower. I will see that all her household are forth from the castle, so may you come privily to her chamber, and have your desire of her, whether she cry yea or whether she cry nay."

"You have fairly spoken," answered he.

Hard upon this came letters from Messire Robert that he would be at the castle on Sunday. On the Thursday, therefore, the crone caused the bath to be heated in the bower, and the lady disarrayed herself to enter therein. Then the old woman sent messages to Sir Raoul that he should come speedily, and moreover she caused all the household to go forth from that place. Sir Raoul came to the bower, and entering, saluted the lady, but she deigned no reply to his greeting, and said--

"Sir Raoul, of a truth I thank you for this courtesy, yet you might have asked if such a visit would be according to my wish. Accursed may you be for a most ungentle knight."

But Sir Raoul made reply--

"Madame, for God's sake have pity upon me, for I die for love of you. Lady, as you hope for grace, so grant grace to me."

"Sir Raoul," cried she, "never for pity will I grant you this day, or any day, the grace of my love. Know well that if you do not leave me alone in peace certainly will I tell your lord, my father, the honour that you require of me, for I am no such woman as you think."

"Nay, lady, is it so indeed?"

"Yes, and very surely," replied she.