Chapter 5

Abode matters thus till Sir Robin sent word that he was coming to hand, and would be at the house on the Sunday. Then the carline let bathe the lady the Thursday before, and the bath was in her chamber, and the fair lady entered therein. But the carline sent after Sir Raoul, and he came. Thereafter she sent all the folk of the household out of the house. Sir Raoul came his ways to the chamber and entered therein, and greeted the lady, but she greeted him not again, but said thus:

“Sir Raoul, thou art nowise courteous. Whether wottest thou forsooth that it is well with me of thy coming? accursed be thou, villain knight!” But Sir Raoul said: “My lady, mercy, a-God’s name! I am but dying for grief of thee. For God’s sake have pity of me!” “Sir Raoul,” said she, “I will have no mercy in such wise that I will ever be thy darling. And wot thou well that if thou leave me not in peace I will tell my lord, my father, the honour thou requirest of me: for I am none such as that.” “Nay, lady, is it so, then?” “Yea, verily,” said she.

Therewith Sir Raoul drew nigh to her, and embraced her in his arms, which were strong enow, and drew her all naked out of the bath and bore her toward her bed; and so soon as he drew her forth of the bath he saw a black spot which she had on her right groin hard by her natural part; and he thought therewithal that that were a good token that he had lain by her. Thus as he bore her off to her bed, his spurs hooked them into the serge at the bed’s edge toward the foot thereof, and down fell the knight, he and the lady together, he below and she above; but she rose up straightway and caught up a billet of wood, and smote Sir Raoul therewith amidst the face, and made him a wound both deep and wide, so that the blood fell to earth. So when Sir Raoul felt himself hurt he had no great desire to play, wherefore he arose and got him gone out of the chamber straightway: he did so much that he came to his hostel, where he dwelt a good league thence, and there he had his wound dealt with. But the good dame entered into her bath again, and called dame Hersent, and told the adventure of the knight.

Much great array made the father of the fair lady against the coming of Sir Robin, and he summoned much folk, and sent and bade Sir Raoul to come; but he sent word that he might not come, for that he was sick. On the Sunday camel Sir Robin, and was received right fairly; and the father of the fair lady went to seek Sir Raoul and found him wounded, and said that now for nought might he abide behind from the feast. So he dight his face and his hurt the best wise he might, and went to the feast, which was great and grand day long of drinking and of eating, and of dancing and carolling.

When night was come Sir Robin went to bed with his wife, who received him much joyously as a good dame ought to her lord; so abode they in joy and in feast the more part of the night. On the morrow great was the feast, and the victual was dight and they ate. But when it was after dinner, Sir Raoul bore on hand Sir Robin, and said that he had won his land, whereas he had known his wife carnally, by the token, to wit, that she had a black spot on her right thigh and a pearlet hard by her jewel. “Thereof I wot not,” said Sir Robin, “for I have not looked on her so close.” “Well, then, I tell thee,” said Sir Raoul, “by the oath that thou hast given me that thou take heed thereof, and do me right.” “So will I, verily,” said Sir Robin.

When night was, Sir Robin played with his wife, and found and saw on her right thigh the black spot, and a pearlet hard by her fair jewel: and when he knew it he was sore grieving. On the morrow he went to Sir Raoul, and said before his lord that he had lost his wager. Heavy of heart was he day long, and when it was night he went to the stable, and set the saddle on his palfrey, and went forth from the house, bearing with him what he might get him of silver. So came to Paris, and when he was at Paris he abode there three days. But now leaveth the tale to tell of him, and taketh up the word concerning his wife.

Here saith the tale that much sorrowful was the fair lady and heavy of heart, when she called to mind how she had cast her lord out of his house. Much she thought of the wherefore thereof and wept and made great dole; till her father came to her, and said that he were fainer if she were yet to wed, whereas she had done him shame and all them of his lineage; and he told her how and wherefore. When she heard that, she was sore grieved and denied the deed downright; but nought availed. For it is well known that shame so sore is contrary to all women, that if a woman were to burn all, she would not be trowed of such a misdoing, once it were laid on her.

On the first hour of the night the lady arose, and took all pennies that she had in her coffer, and took a nag and a harness thereto, and gat her to the road; and she had let shear her fair tresses, and was otherwise arrayed like to an esquire. So much she went by her journeys that she came to Paris, and went after her lord; and she said and declared that she would never make an end before she had found him. Thus she rode like to a squire. And on a morning she went forth out of Paris, and wended the way toward Orleans until she came to the Tomb Isory, and there she fell in with her lord Sir Robin. Full fain she was when she saw him, and she drew up to him and greeted him, and he gave her greeting back and said: “Fair friend, God give thee joy!” “Sir,” said she, “whence art thou?” “Forsooth, fair friend, I am of old Hainault.” “Sir, whither wendeth thou?” “Forsooth, fair friend, I wot not right well whither I go, nor where I shall dwell. Forsooth, needs must I where fortune shall lead me; and she is contrary enough; for I have lost the thing in the world that most I ever loved: and she also hath lost me. Withal I have lost my land, which was great and fair enough. But what hast thou to name, and whither doth God lead thee?” “Certes, sir,” said Jehane, “I am minded for Marseilles on the sea, where is war as I hope. There would I serve some valiant man, about whom I shall learn me arms if God will. For I am so undone in mine own country that therein for a while of time I may not have peace. But, sir, meseemeth that thou be a knight, and I would serve thee with a right good will if it please thee. And of my company wilt thou be nought worsened.” “Fair friend,” said Sir Robin, “a knight am I verily. And where I may look to find war, thitherward would I draw full willingly. But tell me what thou hast to name?” “Sir,” said she, “I have to name John.” “In a good hour,” quoth the knight. “And thou, sir, how hight thou?” “John,” said he, “I have to name Robin.” “Sir Robin, retain me as thine esquire, and I will serve thee to my power.” “John, so would I with a good will. But so little of money have I that I must needs sell my horse before three days are worn. Wherefore I wot not how to do to retain thee.” “Sir,” said John, “be not dismayed thereof, for God will aid thee if it please him. But tell me where thou wilt eat thy dinner?” “John, my dinner will soon be made; for not another penny have I than three sols of Paris.” “Sir,” said John, “be nought dismayed thereof, for I have hard on ten pounds Tournais, whereof thou shalt not lack, if thou hast not to spend at thy will.” “Fair friend John, have thou mickle thanks.”

Then made they good speed to Montlhery: there John dight meat for his lord and they ate. When they had eaten, the knight slept in a bed and John at his feet. When they had slept, John did on the bridles, and they mounted and gat to the road. They went so far by their journeys that they came to Marseilles-on-sea; but of war they heard no word there, whereof were they much sorry. But now leaveth the tale to tell of them two, and returneth to tell of Sir Raoul, who had by falsehood gained the land of Sir Robin.

Here telleth the tale that so long did Sir Raoul hold the land of Sir Robin without righteous cause, for seven years’ wearing. Then he took a great sickness and of that sickness was sore beaten down, insomuch that he was on the point of death. Now he doubted much the transgression which he had done against the fair lady the daughter of his lord, and against her husband also, whereby they were undone, both of them by occasion of his malice. Exceeding ill at ease was he of his wrongdoing, which was so great that he durst not confess it.

Came a day when he was sore undone by his sickness, so he sent for his chaplain whom he loved much, for he had found him a man valiant and loyal; and he said to him: “Sir, thou who art my father before God, know that I look to die of this sickness, wherefore I pray thee for God’s sake that ye aid me with your counsel, for great is my need thereof, for I have done an ill deed so hideous and dark that scarce shall I have mercy therefor.” The chaplain bade him tell it out hardily, and that he would aid him with counsel to his power; till at last Sir Raoul told him all as ye have heard afore. And he prayed him for God’s sake give him counsel, so great as was his misdoing. “Sir,” said he, “be nought dismayed, for if thou wilt do the penance which I enjoin thee, I will take thy transgression on me and on my soul, so that thou shalt be quit.” “Yea, tell me then,” said the knight. “Sir,” said he, “thou shalt take the cross far over sea, and thou shalt get thee thereto within the year wherein thou art whole, and shalt give pledges to God that thou shalt so do: and in every place where men ask thee the occasion of thy journey, thou shalt tell it to all who shall ask it of thee.” “All this will I well do,” said the knight. “Then, sir, give thou good pledge.” “With a good will,” said the knight; “thou thyself shalt abide surety for me, and I swear to thee on my knighthood that I shall quit thee well.” “A-God’s name, sir!” quoth the chaplain, “I will be thy surety.” Now turned the knight to amendment, and was all whole; and a year wore wherein he went not over sea. The chaplain spake to him often thereof, but he held the covenant as but a jest; till at last the chaplain said that but if he acquitted him before God of his pledge, he would tell the tale to the father of the fair damsel, who had been thus undone by him. When the knight heard that, he said to the chaplain that within half a year he would set about the crossing of the sea, and so swore to him. But now leaveth the tale to tell of the knight, and returneth to telling of King Florus of Ausaye, of whom for a great while it hath been silent.

Now saith the tale that a much good life led King Florus of Ausay and his wife, as of young folk who loved each other; but much sorry and heavy-hearted were they that they might have no child. The lady made great prayers to God, and let sing masses; but whereas it was not well pleasing to God, it might not be. But on a day came thither into the house of King Florus a good man who had his dwelling in the great forest of Ausaye in a place right wild; and when the queen knew that he was come she came unto him and made him right great joy. And because he was a good man she confessed to him and told him all her ailing, and how that she was exceeding heavy of heart, because she had had no child by her lord. “Ah, lady,” said the good man, “since it pleaseth not our Lord, needs must thou abide it; and when it pleaseth him thou shalt have one, or two.” “Certes, sir,” said the lady, “I were fain thereof; for my lord holdeth me the less dear, and the high barons of this land also. Withal it hath been told to me that they have spoken to my lord to leave me and take another.” “Verily, dame,” said the good man, “he would do ill; it would be done against God and against Holy Church.” “Ah, sir, I pray thee to pray to God for me that I may have a child of my lord, for great fear I have lest he leave me.” “Dame,” said the good man, “my prayer shall avail but little, but if it please God; nevertheless I will pray heartily.”

The good man departed from the lady, and the barons of the land and of the country came to the King Florus, and bade him send away his wife and take another, since by this he might have no child. And if he did not after their counsel, they would go and dwell otherwhere; for in no case would they that the realm should be without an heir. King Florus feared his barons and trowed their word, and he said that he would send away his wife, and that they should seek him another, and they trusted him therein. When the lady knew it she was exeeeding heavy of heart; but nought durst she do, for she knew that her lord would leave her. So she sent for the hermit who had been her confessor, and he came to her. Then the lady told him all the tale of the matter of the barons, who would seek for their lord another woman. “And I pray thee, good father, that thou wouldst aid me, and counsel me what I should do.” “Dame,” said the good man, “if it be so as thou sayest, ye must needs suffer it; for against thy lord and against his barons ye may do nought perforce.” “Sir,” said the good lady, “thou sayest sooth: but if it please God, I were fain to be a recluse nigh unto thee; whereby I may be at the service of God all the days of my life, and that I may have comfort of thee.” “Dame,” said the good man, “that would be over strange a thing, whereas thou art too young a lady and too fair. But I will tell thee what thou shalt do. Hard by my hermitage there is an abbey of White Nuns, who are right good ladies, and I counsel you go thither; and they will have great joy of thee for thy goodness and thy high dignity.” “Sir,” said she, “thou hast well said; I will do all that thou counsellest me.”

On the morrow King Florus spake to his wife, and said thus: “Needs must thou and I sunder, for that thou mayst have no child by me. Now I say thee soothly that the sundering lies heavy on me, for never shall I love woman as I have loved thee.” Therewith fell King Florus to weep sorely, and the lady also. “Sir,” said she, “a-God’s mercy! And whither shall I go, and what shall I do?” “Dame, thou shalt do well, if it please God, for I will send thee back well and richly into thy country to thy kindred.” “Sir,” said the lady, “it shall not be so: I have purveyed me an abbey of nuns, where I will be, if it please thee; and there I will serve God all my life; for since I lose thy company I am she that no man shall go with any more.” Thereat King Florus wept and the lady also. But on the third day the queen went to the abbey; and the other queen was come, and had great feast made her, and great joy of her friends. King Florus held her for three years, but never might have child of her. But here the tale holdeth peace of King Florus, and betaketh it again to Sir Robin, and to John who were at Marseilles.

Here telleth the tale that much sorry was Sir Robin when he came to Marseilles, whereas he heard tell of nought toward in the country; so he said to John: “What do we? Thou hast lent me of thy moneys, whereof I thank thee: I will give them back to thee, for I will sell my palfrey, and quit me toward thee.” “Sir,” said John, “if it please thee, believe me, and I shall tell thee what we shall do. I have yet well an hundred sols of Tournay, and if it please thee, I will sell our two horses, and make money thereby: for I am the best of bakers that ye may wot of; and I will make French bread, and I doubt me not but I shall earn my spending well and bountifully.” “John,” said Sir Robin, “I grant it thee to do all as thou wilt.”

So on the morrow John sold the two horses for ten pounds Tournays, and bought corn and let grind it, and bought baskets, and fell to making French bread, so good and so well made that he sold it for more than the best baker of the town might do; and he did so much within two years that he had well an hundred pounds of chattels. Then said John to his lord: “I rede thee well that we buy us a very great house, and that we buy us wine and take to harbouring good folk.” “John,” said Sir Robin, “do according to thy will, for I grant it thee, and moreover I praise thee much.” So John bought a house, great and fair, and harboured good folk, and earned enough plenteously; and he arrayed his lord well and richly; and Sir Robin had his palfrey, and went to eat and drink with the most worthy of the town, and John sent him wine and victual, so that all they that haunted his company marvelled thereat. So much he gained that in three years’ time he had gotten him more than three hundred pounds of garnishment, out-taken his plenishing, which was well worth fifty pounds. But here leaveth the tale to tell of Sir Robin and of John, and goeth back to tell of Sir Raoul.

For, saith the tale, that the chaplain held Sir Raoul right short that he should go over sea, and quit him of the pledge he had laid down; for great fear he had lest he yet should leave it; and so much he did that Sir Raoul saw well that he needs must go. So he dight his journey, and arrayed him right richly, as he that hath well enough thereto; and so he betook him to the road with three squires: and went so much by his journeys that he came into Marseilles-on-sea and took lodging in the French hostel, whereas dwelt Sir Robin and John. So soon as John saw him she knew him by the scar of the wound she had made him, and because she had seen him many times. The knight sojourned in the town fifteen days, and hired him passage. But the while he sojourned, John drew him in to privy talk, and asked of him the occasion of his going over sea, and Sir Raoul told him all the occasion, as one who had little heed thereof, even as the tale hath told afore. When John heard that, he held his peace. Sir Raoul set his goods aboard ship, and went upon the sea; but tarried so much the ship wherein he was that he abode in the town for eight days; but on the ninth day he betook him to go his ways to the holy sepulchre, and did his pilgrimage, and confessed him the best he might: and his confessor charged him in penance that he should give back the land which he held wrongfully to the knight and his wife. Whereon he said to his confessor, that when he came into his own country he would do what his heart bade him. So he departed from Jerusalem and came to Acre, and dight his passage as one who had great longing to repair to his own country. He went up on to the sea, and wended so diligently, as well by night as by day, till in less than three months he came to the port of Aigues-mort. Then he departed from the port and came straight to Marseilles, wherein he sojourned eight days in the hostel of Sir Robin and John, which hight the French house. Never did Sir Robin know him, for on that matter he thought nothing. At the end of eight days he departed from Marseilles, he and his squires, and went so long by his journeys that he came into his own country, where he was received with great joy, as one who was a knight rich in land and chattels. Thereon his chaplain took him to task, and asked of him if any had demanded the occasion of his journey; and he said: “Yea, in three places, to wit: Marseilles, Acre, and Jerusalem: and he of whom I took counsel bade me to give back the land to Sir Robin, if I hear tidings of him, or to his wife else, or to his heir.” “Certes,” said the chaplain; “he bade thee good counsel.” Thus was Sir Raoul in his own country a great while in rest and good ease. But here leaveth the tale to tell of him, and returneth to Sir Robin and John.

Here saith the tale that when Sir Robin and John had been at Marseilles for six years that John had gotten to the value of six hundred pounds, and they were come into the seventh year, and John might gain eke what he would, and so sweet he was, and so debonaire that he made himself loved of all the neighbours, and therewithal he was of good hap as he might not be of more, and maintained his lord so nobly and so richly that it was wonder to behold. When the end of the seven years drew nigh, John fell to talk with his lord Sir Robin, and spake thus: “Sir, we have now been a great while in this country, and so much have we gained, that we have hard on six hundred pounds of chattels, what of money, what of vessel of silver.” “Forsooth, John,” said Sir Robin, “they be not mine, but thine; for it is thou hast earned them.” “Sir,” said John, “saving thy grace, it is not so, but they are thine: for thou art my rightful lord, and never, if it please God, will I change.” “Gramercy, John, I hold thee not for servant, but for companion and friend.” “Sir,” said John, “all days I have kept thee loyal company, and shall do from henceforth.” “By my faith,” said Sir Robin, “I will do what so pleaseth thee: but to go into my country, I wot not to say thereof: for I have lost so much there that hardly shall my scathe be righted to me.” “Sir,” said John, “be thou never dismayed of that matter; for when thou art come into thine own country thou shalt hear good tidings, please God. And doubt thou nothing, for in all places whereas we shall be, if it please God, I shall earn enough for thee and for me.” “Certes, John,” said Sir Robin, “I will do as it pleaseth thee, and where thou wilt that I go, thither will I.” “Sir,” said John, “I shall sell our chattels, and dight our journey, and we will go within fifteen days.” “A-God’s name, John,” said Sir Robin.

John sold all his plenishing, whereof he had good store and goodly, and bought three horses, a palfrey for his lord, another for himself, and a sumpter horse. Then they took leave of the neighbours, and the most worthy of the town, who were sore grieved of their departure.

Wore the way Sir Robin and John, insomuch that in three weeks’ space they came into their country. And Robin made known to his lord, whose daughter he had had, that he was at hand. The lord was much joyful thereof, for he was deeming well that his daughter would be with him. And she indeed it was, but in the guise of an esquire. Sir Robin was well received of his lord, whose daughter he had erewhile wedded. When the lord could have no tidings of his daughter, he was right sorrowful; nevertheless he made good feast to Sir Robin, and bade thereto his knights and his neighbours; and thither came Sir Raoul, who held the land of Sir Robin wrongfully. Great was the joy that day and the morrow, and that while Sir Robin told to John the occasion of the wager, and how Sir Raoul held his land wrongfully. “Sir,” said John, “do thou appeal him of treason, and I will do the battle for thee.” “Nay, John,” said Sir Robin, “thou shalt not do it.”

So they left it till the morrow, when John came to Sir Robin and did him to wit that he would speak to the father of his wife; and thus he said to him: “Sir, thou art lord to my lord Sir Robin after God, and he wedded thy daughter time was. But there was a wager betwixt him and Sir Raoul, who said that he would make him cuckold by then he returned from St. Jakeme; whereof Sir Raoul hath made false report, whereas he hath had nor part nor lot in thy fair daughter. And he hath done disloyal treason. All which things I am ready to prove on his body.” Then leapt forth Sir Robin and said: “John, fair friend, none shall do the battle save I; nowise shalt thou hang shield on neck herein.” Therewith Sir Robin reached his pledge to his lord; and Sir Raoul was sore grieving of the pledging, but needs must he defend him, or cry craven; so he reached for this pledge right cowardly. So were the pledges given, and day of battle appointed on that day fifteen days without naysay.