Chapter 6

Now hear ye marvels of John what he did. John who had to name my Lady Jehane, had in the house of her father a cousin germain of hers, who was a fair damsel, and of some five and twenty years. Jehane came to her, and laid all the whole truth bare to her, and told her the whole business from point to point, and showed her all openly; and prayed her much that she would hide all the matter until the time and hour came when she should make herself known to her father. Wherefore her cousin, who knew her well, said to her that she would keep all well hidden, so that by her it should never be discovered. Then was the chamber of her cousin dight for the Lady Jehane; and the said lady, the while of the fortnight before the battle should be, let bathe her and stove her; and she took her ease the best she might, as one who well had therewithal. And she let cut and shape for her duly four pair of gowns, of Scarlet, of Vair, of Perse, and of cloth of silk; and she took so well her ease that she came back to her most beauty, and was so fair and dainty as no lady might be more.

But when it came to the end of the fifteen days, then was Sir Robin sore grieving of John his esquire, because he had lost him, and knew not where he was become. But none the more did he leave to apparel him for the fight as one who had heart enough and hardihood.

On the morn of the day whenas the battle was appointed, came both the knights armed. They drew apart one from the other, and then they fell on each other with the irons of their glaives, and smote on each other with so great heat that they bore down each other’s horses to the earth beneath their bodies. Sir Raoul was hurt a little on the left side. Sir Robin rose up the first, and came a great pace on Sir Raoul, and smote him a great stroke on the helm in such wise that he beat down the head-piece and drave in the sword on to the mail-coif, and sheared all thereto; but the coif was of steel so strong that he wounded him not, howbeit he made him to stagger, so that he caught hold of the arson of the saddle; and if he had not, he had fallen to earth. Then Sir Raoul, who was a good knight, smote Sir Robin so great a stroke upon the helm that he all to astonied him; and the stroke fell down to the shoulder, and sheared the mails of the hawberk, but hurt him not. Then Sir Robin smote him with all his might, but he threw his shield betwixt, and Sir Robin smote off a quarter thereof. When Sir Raoul felt his strong strokes, he misdoubted him much, and wished well that he were over sea, if he were but quit of the battle, and Sir Robin back on the land which he held. Nevertheless he put forth all his might and drew nigh, and fell on Sir Robin much hardly, and gave him a great stroke upon his shield so that he sheared it to the boss thereof. But Sir Robin laid a great stroke upon his helm, but he threw his shield betwixt and Sir Robin sheared it amidst, and the sword fell upon the neck of the horse, and sheared it amidst, and beat down straightway both horse and man. Then Sir Raoul leapt to his feet, as one who was in a stour exceeding heavy. Then Sir Robin lighted down, whereas he would not betake him to his horse while the other was afoot.

Now were both knights come unto the skirmish and they hewed in pieces each other’s shields and helms and haw—berks, and drew the blood from each other’s bodies with their trenchant swords; and had they smitten as great strokes as at first, soon had they slain each other, for they had so little of their shields that scarce might they cover their fists therewith. Yet had neither of them fear of death or shame: nevertheless the nighness of them to each other called on them to bring the battle to an end. Sir Robin took his sword in both hands, and smote Sir Raoul with all his might on the helm, and sheared it amidst, so that one half thereof fell upon the shoulders, and he sheared the steel coif, and made him a great wound on the head; and Sir Raoul was so astonied of the stroke that he bent him to the earth on one knee; but he rose up straightway and was in great misease when he thus saw his head naked, and great fear of death he had. But he came up to Sir Robin and fetched a stroke with all his might on what he had of shield and he sheared it asunder and the stroke came on the helm and cut into it well three fingers, so that the sword came on the iron coif, which was right good, so that the sword brake a-twain. When Sir Raoul saw his sword broken and his head naked, he doubted much the death. Nevertheless he stooped down to the earth, and took up a great stone in his two hands, and cast it after Sir Robin with all his might; but Sir Robin turned aside when he saw the stone coming, and ran on Sir Raoul, who took to flight all over the field; and Sir Robin said to him that he would slay him but if he cried craven. Whereon Sir Raoul thus bespake him: mercy on me, gentle knight, and ere my sword, so much as I have thereof, and I render it to thee, and all of me therewith unto thy mercy; and I pray thee have pity of me, and beg of thy lord and mine to have mercy on me and that thou and he save my life, and I render and give both thy land and mine. For I have held it against right and against reason. And I have wrongfully defamed the fair lady and good.

When Sir Robin heard this, he said that he had done enough, and he prayed his lord so much that he pardoned Sir Raoul of his misdeed, in such wise that he was quit thereof on the condition that he should go over seas and abide there lifelong.

Thuswise conquered Sir Robin his land and the land of Sir Raoul to boot for all his days. But he was so sore grieving and sad at heart of his good dame and fair, whom he had thus lost, that he could have no solace; and on the other hand, he was so sore grieving for John his esquire whom he had so lost, that marvel it was. And his lord was no less sad at heart for his fair daughter whom he had thus lost, and of whom he might have no tidings.

But dame Jehane, who was in the chamber of her cousin germain for fifteen days in good ease, when she wotted that her lord had vanquished the battle, was exceeding much at ease. Now she had done make four pair of gowns, as is aforesaid, and she clad her with the richest of them which was of silk bended of fine gold of Araby. Moreover she was so fair of body and of visage, and so dainty withal, that nought in the world might be found fairer, so that her cousin germain all marvelled at her great beauty. And she had been bathed, and attired and had ease at all points for the fifteen days, so that she was come into so great beauty as wonder was. Much fair was the Lady Jehane in her gown of silk bended of gold. So she called her cousin to her and said: “How deemest thou of me?” “What, dame!” said her cousin, “thou art the fairest lady of the world.” “I shall tell thee, then, fair cousin, what thou shalt do: go thou tell so much before my father as that he shall make dole no more, but be glad and joyful, and that thou bearest him good news of his daughter who is whole and well; and that he come with thee and thou wilt show him. Then bring him hither, and meseemeth he will see me with a good will.” The damsel said that she would well do that errand and she came to the father of the Lady Jehane, and said him what his daughter had said. When her sire heard thereof great wonder he wist it, and went with the damsel, and found his daughter in her chamber, and knew her straightway, and put his arms about her neck, and wept over her for joy and pity, and had so great joy that scarce might he speak to her. Then he asked her where she had been so long a while. “Fair father,” said she, “thou shalt know it well anon. But a-God’s sake do my lady mother to come to me, for I have great longing to see her.” The lord sent for his wife, and when she came into the chamber where was her daughter, and saw her and knew her, she swooned for joy, and might not speak a great while, and when she came out of her swooning none might believe the great joy that she made of her daughter.

But whiles they were in this joy, the father of the fair lady went to seek Sir Robin and bespake him thus: “Sir Robin, fair sweet son, tidings can I say thee exceeding joyous us between.” “Certes,” said Sir Robin, “of joy have I great need, for none save God can set rede to it whereby I may have joy. For I have lost thy fair daughter, whereof have I sore grief at heart. And thereto have I lost the swain and the squire, who of all in the world hath done me most good; to wit, John the good, my squire.” “Sir Robin,” said the lord, “be ye nought dismayed thereof, for of squires thou shalt find enough. But of my fair daughter I could tell thee good tidings; for I have seen her e’en now; and, wot ye well, she is the fairest lady that may be in the world.” When Sir Robin heard that, he trembled all with joy and said to his lord: “Ah, sir, for God’s sake bring me where I may see if this be true!” “With a good will,” said the lord; “come along now.”

The lord went before and he after, till I they were come to the chamber, where the mother was yet making great feast of her daughter, and they were weeping with joy one over the other. But when they saw their rightful lords a-coming, they rose up; and so soon as Sir Robin knew his wife, he ran to her with his arms spread abroad, and they clipped and kissed together dearly, and wept of joy and pity; and they were thus embracing together for the space of the running of ten acres, or ever they might sunder. Then the lord commanded the tables to be laid for supper, and they supped and made great joy.

After supper, when the feast had been right great, they went to bed, and Sir Robin lay that night with the Lady Jehane his wife, who made him great joy, and he her in likewise; and they spake together of many things, and so much that Sir Robin asked of her where she had been; and she said: “Sir, long were it to tell, but thou shalt know it well in time. Now tell to me what thou couldest to do, and where thou hast been so long a while.” “Lady,” said Sir Robin, “that will I well tell thee.”

So he fell to telling her all that she well knew, and of John his esquire, who had done him so much good, and said that he was so troubled whereas he had thus lost him, that he would make never an end of wandering till he had found him, and that he would bestir himself thereto the morrow’s morn. “Sir,” said the lady, “that were folly; and how should it be then; wouldst thou leave me, then?” “Forsooth, dame,” said he, “e’en so it behoveth me. For none did ever so much for another as he did for me.” “Sir,” said the dame, “wherein he did for thee, he did but duly. Even so he was bound to do.” “Dame,” said Sir Robin, “by what thou sayest thou shouldst know him.” “Forsooth,” said the lady, “I should ought to know him well, for never did he anything whereof I wotted not.” “Lady,” said Sir Robin, “thou makest me to marvel at thy words.” “Sir,” said the lady, “never marvel thou hereof! If I tell thee a word for sooth and for certain, wilt thou not believe me?” “Dame,” said he, “yea, verily.”

“Well, then, believe me in this,” said she; “for wot of a verity that I am the very same John whom thou wouldest go seek, and I will tell thee how. For I knew that thou wert gone for the great sorrow thou hadst for my misdoing against thee, and for thy land which thou deemedst thou hadst lost for ever. Whereas I had heard tell of the occasion of the wager, and of the treason Sir Raoul had done, whereof I was so wroth as never woman was more wroth. Straightway I let shear my hair, and took the money in my coffer, about ten pounds of Tournais, and arrayed me like an esquire, and followed thee away to Paris, and found thee at the tomb of Ysore; and there I fell into company with thee, and we went together into Marseilles, and were there together seven years long, where I served thee unto my power as my rightful lord, and I hold for well spent all the service that I did thee. And know of a truth that I am innocent and just of that which the evil knight laid upon me; as well appeareth whereas he hath been shamed in the field, and hath acknowledged the treason.”

Therewith my lady Jehane embraced Sir Robin, her lord, and kissed him on the mouth right sweetly; for Sir Robin understood well that it was she that had so well served him; and so great joy he had, that none could say it or think it; and much he wondered in his heart how she could think to do that which so turned to her great goodness. Wherefore he loved her the more all the days of his life.

Thus were these two good persons together; and they went to dwell upon their land, which they had both wide and fair. Good life they led as for young folk who loved dearly together. Sir Robin went often to tournays with his lord, of whose mesney he was, and much worship he won, and great prize he conquered and great wealth, and did so much that he gat him as much land again as he had had. And when the lord and his lady were dead, then had he all the land. And he did so well by his prowess that he was made a double banneret, and he had well four thousand pounds of land. But never might he have child by his wife, whereof he was much grieved. Thus was he with his wife for ten years after he had conquered the battle with Sir Raoul.

After the term of ten years, by the will of God, to whom we be all subject, the pain of death took hold of him, and he died like a valiant man, and had all his rights, and was laid in earth with great worship. His wife the fair lady made so great sorrow over him, that all they that saw her had pity of her; but in the end needs must she forget her mourning and take comfort, for as little as it were. Much abode the lady in her widowhood as a good dame and a holy, for she loved much God and Holy Church. She held her much humbly and much she loved the poor, and did them much good, and was so good a lady that none knew how to blame her or to say of her aught save great good. Therewithal was she so fair, that each one said who saw her, that she was the mirror of all ladies in the world for beauty and goodness. But here leaveth the tale a little to speak of her, and returneth to tell of the King Florus, of whom it hath been silent a great while.

For saith the tale, that King Florus of Ausay was in his own country sore grieving, and ill at ease for the departure of his first wife. Notwithstanding the other was brought unto him, and was both fair and dainty, but he could not hold her in his heart like as he did the first one. Four years was he with her, but never child might he have of her; and when the said time was ended the pains of death took the a lady, and she was buried, whereof her friends were sore grieving. But service was done unto her, as was meet to a queen.

Then abode King Florus in widowhood more than two years, and he was still a young man, whereas he was not of more than five-and-forty winters, wherefore the barons said to him that he behoved to marry again. “Forsooth,” said King Florus, “so to do have I no great longing, for two wives have I had, and never child might I have by either. And on the other hand, the first that I had was so good and so fair, and so much I loved her in my heart for the great beauty that was in her, that I may not forget her. And I tell you well that never woman will I wed but may have her as fair and as good as was she. Now may God have mercy on her soul, for she hath passed away in the abbey where she was, as folk have done me to wit.” “Ha, sir,” said a knight, who was of his privy counsel, “there be many good dames up and down the country side, of whom ye know not all; and I know one who hath not for goodness and beauty her peer in the world. And if thou knew her goodness, and saw but her beauty, thou wouldst say well that happy were the king who held the danger of such a lady. And wot well that she is a gentle lady, and valiant, and rich, and of great lands. And I will tell thee a part of her goodness so please thee.”

So the king said that he would well he should tell him. Wherefore the knight fell to telling how she had bestirred her to go seek her lord, and how she found him and brought him to Marseilles, and the great goodness and great services which she did him, even as the tale hath told afore, so that King Florus wondered much thereat; and he said to the knight privily that such a woman he would take with a good will.

“Sir,” said the knight, who was of the country of the lady, “I will go to her, if it please thee, and I will so speak to her, if I may, that the marriage of you two shall be made.” “Yea,” said King Florus, “I will well that thou go, and I pray thee to give good heed to the business.”

So the knight bestirred him, and went so much by his journeys that he came to the country where dwelt the fair dame, whom the tale calleth my Lady Jehane, and found her abiding at a castle of hers, and she made him great joy, as one whom she knew. The knight drew her to privy talk, and told her of King Florus of Ausay, how he bade her come unto him that he might take her to wife. When the lady heard the knight so speak, she began to smile, which beseemed her right well, and she said to the knight: “Thy king is neither so well learned, nor so courteous as I had deemed, whereas he biddeth me come to him and he will take me to wife: forsooth, I am no wageling of him to go at his command. But say to thy king, that, so please him, he come to me, if he prize me so much and loveth me, and it seem good to him that I take him to husband and spouse, for the lords ought to beseech the ladies, and not ladies the lords.” “Lady,” said the knight, “all that thou hast said to me, I will tell him straight; but I doubt that he hold not with pride.” “Sir knight,” said the lady, “he shall take what heed thereof may please him but in the matter whereof I have spoken to thee, he hath neither courtesy nor reason.” “Lady,” said the knight, “so be it, a-God’s name! And I will get me gone, with thy leave, to my lord the king, and will tell him what thou hast told me. And if thou wilt give me any word more, now tell it me.” “Yea,” said the lady, “tell him that I send him greeting, and that I can him much good will for the honour he biddeth me.”

So the knight departed therewith from the lady, and came the fourth day thereafter to King Florus of Ausay, and found him in his chamber, whereas he was speaking with his privy counsel. The knight greeted the king, who returned the greeting, and made him sit by his side, and asked tidings of the fair lady, and he told all her message how she would not come to him, whereas she was not his wageling to come at his command: for that lords are bound to beseech ladies how she had given him word that she sent him greeting, and could him goodwill for the honour he bade her. When the King Florus had heard these words, he fell a-pondering, and spake no word for a great while.

“Sir,” said a knight who was of his most privity, “what ponderest thou so much? Forsooth, all these words well befit a good lady and wise to say; and so, may help me God, she is both wise and valiant. Wherefore I counsel thee in good faith that thou look to a day when thou canst be there; that thou send greeting to her that thou wilt be there on such day to do her honour, and take her to wife.” “Forsooth,” said King Florus, “I will send word that I will be there in the month of Paske, and that she apparel her to receive such a man as I be.” Then said King Florus to the knight who had been to the lady, that within three days he should go his ways to tell the lady these tidings. So on the third day the knight departed, and went so much that he came to the lady, and said that the king sent word that he would be with her in the month of Paske; and she answered that it was so by God’s will, and that she would speak with her friends, and that she would be arrayed to do his will as the honour of a good lady called on her. After these words departed the knight, and came to his lord King Florus, and told him the answer of the fair lady, as ye have heard it. So King Florus of Ausay dight his departure, and went his ways with a right great folk to come to the country of the fair lady; and when he was come thither, he took her and wedded her, and had great joy and great feast thereof. Then he led her into his country where folk made exceeding great joy of her. But King Florus loved her much for her great beauty, and for the great wit and great valiancy that was in her.

And within the year that he had taken her to wife, she was big with child, and she bore the fruit of her belly so long as right was, and was delivered of a daughter first, and of a son thereafter, who had to name Florence and the daughter had to name Floria. And the child Florence was exceeding fair, and when he was a knight he was the best that knew arms in his time, so that he was chosen to be Emperor of Constantinople. A much valiant man was he, and wrought much wrack and dole on the Saracens. But the daughter became queen of the land of her father, and the son of the King of Hungary took her to wife, and lady she was of two realms.

This great honour gave God to the fair lady for the goodness of her and her loyalty. A great while abode King Florus with that fair lady; and when it pleased God that his time came, he had such goodly knowledge that God had in him a fair soul. Thereafter the lady lived but a half year, and passed away from the world as one good and loyal, and had fair end and good knowledge.

Here endeth the tale of King Florus and the Fair Jehane.

The History of Over Sea

IN years bygone was a Count of Ponthieu, who loved much chivalry and the world, and was a much valiant man and a good knight.

In the same times was a Count of St. Pol, who held all the country, and was lord thereof, and a man much valiant. He had no heir of his flesh, whereof he was sore grieving; but a sister he had, a much good dame, and a valiant woman of much avail, who was Dame of Dontmart in Ponthieu. The said dame had a son, Thibault by name, who was heir of the country of St. Pol, but a poor man so long as his uncle lived; he was a brave knight and a valiant, and good at arms: noble he was, and goodly, and was much honoured and loved of good folk; for a high man he was, and gentle of blood.

Now the Count of Ponthieu, with whom beginneth this tale, had a wife, a much good dame: of the said dame he had a daughter, much good and of much avail, the which waxed in great beauty and multiplied in much good; and she was of well sixteen years of age. But within the third year of her birth, her mother died, whereof sore troubled she was and much sorrowful.

The Count, her father, wedded him right speedily thereafter, and took a high lady and a gentle; and in a little while the Count had of the said lady a son, whom he loved much. The said son waxed in great worth and in great goodness, and multiplied in great good.

The Count of Ponthieu, who was a valiant man, saw my lord Thibault of Dontmart, and summoned him, and retained him of his meney; and when he had him of his meney he was much joyous thereat, for the Count multiplied in great good and in great avail by means of him.

As they returned from a tournament, the Count called to him Messire Thibault, and asked of him and said: “Thibault, as God may help thee, tell me what jewel of my land thou lovest the best?” “Sir,” said Messire Thibault, “I am but a poor man, but, as God may help me, of all the jewels of thy land I love none so much as my damosel, thy daughter.” The Count, when he heard that, was much merry and joyful in his heart, and said: “Thibault, I will give her to thee if she will.” “Sir,” said he, “much great thank have thou; God reward thee.”