Chapter 17

Have ye not seen sometime a pale face (Among a press) of him that hath been lad* *led Toward his death, where he getteth no grace, And such a colour in his face hath had, Men mighte know him that was so bestad* *bested, situated Amonges all the faces in that rout? So stood Constance, and looked her about.

O queenes living in prosperity, Duchesses, and ye ladies every one, Have some ruth* on her adversity! *pity An emperor’s daughter, she stood alone; She had no wight to whom to make her moan. O blood royal, that standest in this drede,* *danger Far be thy friendes in thy greate need!

This king Alla had such compassioun, As gentle heart is full filled of pity, That from his eyen ran the water down “Now hastily do fetch a book,” quoth he; “And if this knight will sweare, how that she This woman slew, yet will we us advise* *consider Whom that we will that shall be our justice.”

A Briton book, written with Evangiles,* *the Gospels Was fetched, and on this book he swore anon She guilty was; and, in the meanewhiles, An hand him smote upon the necke bone, That down he fell at once right as a stone: And both his eyen burst out of his face In sight of ev’rybody in that place.

A voice was heard, in general audience, That said; “Thou hast deslander’d guilteless The daughter of holy Church in high presence; Thus hast thou done, and yet *hold I my peace?”* *shall I be silent?* Of this marvel aghast was all the press, As mazed folk they stood every one For dread of wreake,* save Constance alone. *vengeance

Great was the dread and eke the repentance Of them that hadde wrong suspicion Upon this sely* innocent Constance; *simple, harmless And for this miracle, in conclusion, And by Constance’s mediation, The king, and many another in that place, Converted was, thanked be Christe’s grace!

This false knight was slain for his untruth By judgement of Alla hastily; And yet Constance had of his death great ruth;* *compassion And after this Jesus of his mercy Made Alla wedde full solemnely This holy woman, that is so bright and sheen, And thus hath Christ y-made Constance a queen.

But who was woeful, if I shall not lie, Of this wedding but Donegild, and no mo’, The kinge’s mother, full of tyranny? Her thought her cursed heart would burst in two; She would not that her son had done so; Her thought it a despite that he should take So strange a creature unto his make.* *mate, consort

Me list not of the chaff nor of the stre* *straw Make so long a tale, as of the corn. What should I tellen of the royalty Of this marriage, or which course goes beforn, Who bloweth in a trump or in an horn? The fruit of every tale is for to say; They eat and drink, and dance, and sing, and play.

They go to bed, as it was skill* and right; *reasonable For though that wives be full holy things, They muste take in patience at night Such manner* necessaries as be pleasings *kind of To folk that have y-wedded them with rings, And lay *a lite* their holiness aside *a little of* As for the time, it may no better betide.

On her he got a knave* child anon, *male <14> And to a Bishop and to his Constable eke He took his wife to keep, when he is gone To Scotland-ward, his foemen for to seek. Now fair Constance, that is so humble and meek, So long is gone with childe till that still She held her chamb’r, abiding Christe’s will

The time is come, a knave child she bare; Mauricius at the font-stone they him call. This Constable *doth forth come* a messenger, *caused to come forth* And wrote unto his king that clep’d was All’, How that this blissful tiding is befall, And other tidings speedful for to say He* hath the letter, and forth he go’th his way. *i.e. the messenger

This messenger, to *do his avantage,* *promote his own interest* Unto the kinge’s mother rideth swithe,* *swiftly And saluteth her full fair in his language. “Madame,” quoth he, “ye may be glad and blithe, And thanke God an hundred thousand sithe;* *times My lady queen hath child, withoute doubt, To joy and bliss of all this realm about.

“Lo, here the letter sealed of this thing, That I must bear with all the haste I may: If ye will aught unto your son the king, I am your servant both by night and day.” Donegild answer’d, “As now at this time, nay; But here I will all night thou take thy rest, To-morrow will I say thee what me lest.*” *pleases

This messenger drank sadly* ale and wine, *steadily And stolen were his letters privily Out of his box, while he slept as a swine; And counterfeited was full subtilly Another letter, wrote full sinfully, Unto the king, direct of this mattere From his Constable, as ye shall after hear.

This letter said, the queen deliver’d was Of so horrible a fiendlike creature, That in the castle none so hardy* was *brave That any while he durst therein endure: The mother was an elf by aventure Become, by charmes or by sorcery, And every man hated her company.

Woe was this king when he this letter had seen, But to no wight he told his sorrows sore, But with his owen hand he wrote again, “Welcome the sond* of Christ for evermore *will, sending To me, that am now learned in this lore: Lord, welcome be thy lust* and thy pleasance, *will, pleasure My lust I put all in thine ordinance.

“Keepe* this child, albeit foul or fair, *preserve And eke my wife, unto mine homecoming: Christ when him list may send to me an heir More agreeable than this to my liking.” This letter he sealed, privily weeping. Which to the messenger was taken soon, And forth he went, there is no more to do’n.* *do

O messenger full fill’d of drunkenness, Strong is thy breath, thy limbes falter aye, And thou betrayest alle secretness; Thy mind is lorn,* thou janglest as a jay; *lost Thy face is turned in a new array;* *aspect Where drunkenness reigneth in any rout,* *company There is no counsel hid, withoute doubt.

O Donegild, I have no English dign* *worthy Unto thy malice, and thy tyranny: And therefore to the fiend I thee resign, Let him indite of all thy treachery ‘Fy, mannish,* fy! O nay, by God I lie; *unwomanly woman Fy, fiendlike spirit! for I dare well tell, Though thou here walk, thy spirit is in hell.

This messenger came from the king again, And at the kinge’s mother’s court he light,* *alighted And she was of this messenger full fain,* *glad And pleased him in all that e’er she might. He drank, and *well his girdle underpight*; *stowed away (liquor) He slept, and eke he snored in his guise under his girdle* All night, until the sun began to rise.

Eft* were his letters stolen every one, *again And counterfeited letters in this wise: The king commanded his Constable anon, On pain of hanging and of high jewise,* *judgement That he should suffer in no manner wise Constance within his regne* for to abide *kingdom Three dayes, and a quarter of a tide;

But in the same ship as he her fand, Her and her younge son, and all her gear, He shoulde put, and crowd* her from the land, *push And charge her, that she never eft come there. O my Constance, well may thy ghost* have fear, *spirit And sleeping in thy dream be in penance,* *pain, trouble When Donegild cast* all this ordinance.** *contrived **plan, plot

This messenger, on morrow when he woke, Unto the castle held the nexte* way, *nearest And to the constable the letter took; And when he this dispiteous* letter sey,** *cruel **saw Full oft he said, “Alas, and well-away! Lord Christ,” quoth he, “how may this world endure? So full of sin is many a creature.

“O mighty God, if that it be thy will, Since thou art rightful judge, how may it be That thou wilt suffer innocence to spill,* *be destroyed And wicked folk reign in prosperity? Ah! good Constance, alas! so woe is me, That I must be thy tormentor, or dey* *die A shameful death, there is no other way.

Wept bothe young and old in all that place, When that the king this cursed letter sent; And Constance, with a deadly pale face, The fourthe day toward her ship she went. But natheless she took in good intent The will of Christ, and kneeling on the strond* *strand, shore She saide, “Lord, aye welcome be thy sond* *whatever thou sendest

“He that me kepte from the false blame, While I was in the land amonges you, He can me keep from harm and eke from shame In the salt sea, although I see not how As strong as ever he was, he is yet now, In him trust I, and in his mother dere, That is to me my sail and eke my stere.”* *rudder, guide

Her little child lay weeping in her arm And, kneeling, piteously to him she said “Peace, little son, I will do thee no harm:” With that her kerchief off her head she braid,* *took, drew And over his little eyen she it laid, And in her arm she lulled it full fast, And unto heav’n her eyen up she cast.

“Mother,” quoth she, “and maiden bright, Mary, Sooth is, that through a woman’s eggement* *incitement, egging on Mankind was lorn,* and damned aye to die; *lost For which thy child was on a cross y-rent:* *torn, pierced Thy blissful eyen saw all his torment, Then is there no comparison between Thy woe, and any woe man may sustene.

“Thou saw’st thy child y-slain before thine eyen, And yet now lives my little child, parfay:* *by my faith Now, lady bright, to whom the woeful cryen, Thou glory of womanhood, thou faire may,* *maid Thou haven of refuge, bright star of day, Rue* on my child, that of thy gentleness *take pity Ruest on every rueful* in distress. *sorrowful person

“O little child, alas! what is thy guilt, That never wroughtest sin as yet, pardie?* *par Dieu; by God Why will thine harde* father have thee spilt?** *cruel **destroyed O mercy, deare Constable,” quoth she, “And let my little child here dwell with thee: And if thou dar’st not save him from blame, So kiss him ones in his father’s name.”

Therewith she looked backward to the land, And saide, “Farewell, husband rutheless!” And up she rose, and walked down the strand Toward the ship, her following all the press:* *multitude And ever she pray’d her child to hold his peace, And took her leave, and with an holy intent She blessed her, and to the ship she went.

Victualed was the ship, it is no drede,* *doubt Abundantly for her a full long space: And other necessaries that should need* *be needed She had enough, heried* be Godde’s grace: *praised <15> For wind and weather, Almighty God purchase,* *provide And bring her home; I can no better say; But in the sea she drived forth her way.

Alla the king came home soon after this Unto the castle, of the which I told, And asked where his wife and his child is; The Constable gan about his heart feel cold, And plainly all the matter he him told As ye have heard; I can tell it no better; And shew’d the king his seal, and eke his letter

And saide; “Lord, as ye commanded me On pain of death, so have I done certain.” The messenger tormented* was, till he *tortured Muste beknow,* and tell it flat and plain, *confess <16> From night to night in what place he had lain; And thus, by wit and subtle inquiring, Imagin’d was by whom this harm gan spring.

The hand was known that had the letter wrote, And all the venom of the cursed deed; But in what wise, certainly I know not. Th’ effect is this, that Alla, *out of drede,* *without doubt* His mother slew, that may men plainly read, For that she traitor was to her liegeance:* *allegiance Thus ended olde Donegild with mischance.

The sorrow that this Alla night and day Made for his wife, and for his child also, There is no tongue that it telle may. But now will I again to Constance go, That floated in the sea in pain and woe Five year and more, as liked Christe’s sond,* *decree, command Ere that her ship approached to the lond.* *land

Under an heathen castle, at the last, Of which the name in my text I not find, Constance and eke her child the sea upcast. Almighty God, that saved all mankind, Have on Constance and on her child some mind, That fallen is in heathen hand eftsoon* *again *In point to spill,* as I shall tell you soon! *in danger of perishing* Down from the castle came there many a wight To gauren* on this ship, and on Constance: *gaze, stare But shortly from the castle, on a night, The lorde’s steward, — God give him mischance, — A thief that had *renied our creance,* *denied our faith* Came to the ship alone, and said he would Her leman* be, whether she would or n’ould. *illicit lover

Woe was this wretched woman then begone; Her child cri’d, and she cried piteously: But blissful Mary help’d her right anon, For, with her struggling well and mightily, The thief fell overboard all suddenly, And in the sea he drenched* for vengeance, *drowned And thus hath Christ unwemmed* kept Constance. *unblemished

O foul lust of luxury! lo thine end! Not only that thou faintest* manne’s mind, *weakenest But verily thou wilt his body shend.* *destroy Th’ end of thy work, or of thy lustes blind, Is complaining: how many may men find, That not for work, sometimes, but for th’ intent To do this sin, be either slain or shent?

How may this weake woman have the strength Her to defend against this renegate? O Goliath, unmeasurable of length, How mighte David make thee so mate?* *overthrown So young, and of armour so desolate,* *devoid How durst he look upon thy dreadful face? Well may men see it was but Godde’s grace.

Who gave Judith courage or hardiness To slay him, Holofernes, in his tent, And to deliver out of wretchedness The people of God? I say for this intent That right as God spirit of vigour sent To them, and saved them out of mischance, So sent he might and vigour to Constance.

Forth went her ship throughout the narrow mouth Of *Jubaltare and Septe,* driving alway, *Gibraltar and Ceuta* Sometime west, and sometime north and south, And sometime east, full many a weary day: Till Christe’s mother (blessed be she aye) Had shaped* through her endeless goodness *resolved, arranged To make an end of all her heaviness.

Now let us stint* of Constance but a throw,** *cease speaking And speak we of the Roman emperor, **short time That out of Syria had by letters know The slaughter of Christian folk, and dishonor Done to his daughter by a false traitor, I mean the cursed wicked Soudaness, That at the feast *let slay both more and less.* *caused both high and low to be killed* For which this emperor had sent anon His senator, with royal ordinance, And other lordes, God wot, many a one, On Syrians to take high vengeance: They burn and slay, and bring them to mischance Full many a day: but shortly this is th’ end, Homeward to Rome they shaped them to wend.

This senator repaired with victory To Rome-ward, sailing full royally, And met the ship driving, as saith the story, In which Constance sat full piteously: And nothing knew he what she was, nor why She was in such array; nor she will say Of her estate, although that she should dey.* *die

He brought her unto Rome, and to his wife He gave her, and her younge son also: And with the senator she led her life. Thus can our Lady bringen out of woe Woeful Constance, and many another mo’: And longe time she dwelled in that place, In holy works ever, as was her grace.

The senatores wife her aunte was, But for all that she knew her ne’er the more: I will no longer tarry in this case, But to King Alla, whom I spake of yore, That for his wife wept and sighed sore, I will return, and leave I will Constance Under the senatores governance.

King Alla, which that had his mother slain, Upon a day fell in such repentance; That, if I shortly tell it shall and plain, To Rome he came to receive his penitance, And put him in the Pope’s ordinance In high and low, and Jesus Christ besought Forgive his wicked works that he had wrought.

The fame anon throughout the town is borne, How Alla king shall come on pilgrimage, By harbingers that wente him beforn, For which the senator, as was usage, Rode *him again,* and many of his lineage, *to meet him* As well to show his high magnificence, As to do any king a reverence.

Great cheere* did this noble senator *courtesy To King Alla and he to him also; Each of them did the other great honor; And so befell, that in a day or two This senator did to King Alla go To feast, and shortly, if I shall not lie, Constance’s son went in his company.

Some men would say,<17> at request of Constance This senator had led this child to feast: I may not tellen every circumstance, Be as be may, there was he at the least: But sooth is this, that at his mother’s hest* *behest Before Alla during *the meates space,* *meal time* The child stood, looking in the kinges face.

This Alla king had of this child great wonder, And to the senator he said anon, “Whose is that faire child that standeth yonder?” “I n’ot,”* quoth he, “by God and by Saint John; *know not A mother he hath, but father hath he none, That I of wot:” and shortly in a stound* *short time <18> He told to Alla how this child was found.

“But God wot,” quoth this senator also, “So virtuous a liver in all my life I never saw, as she, nor heard of mo’ Of worldly woman, maiden, widow or wife: I dare well say she hadde lever* a knife *rather Throughout her breast, than be a woman wick’,* *wicked There is no man could bring her to that prick.* *point

Now was this child as like unto Constance As possible is a creature to be: This Alla had the face in remembrance Of Dame Constance, and thereon mused he, If that the childe’s mother *were aught she* *could be she* That was his wife; and privily he sight,* *sighed And sped him from the table *that he might.* *as fast as he could*

“Parfay,”* thought he, “phantom** is in mine head. *by my faith I ought to deem, of skilful judgement, **a fantasy That in the salte sea my wife is dead.” And afterward he made his argument, “What wot I, if that Christ have hither sent My wife by sea, as well as he her sent To my country, from thennes that she went?”

And, after noon, home with the senator. Went Alla, for to see this wondrous chance. This senator did Alla great honor, And hastily he sent after Constance: But truste well, her liste not to dance. When that she wiste wherefore was that sond,* *summons Unneth* upon her feet she mighte stand. *with difficulty

When Alla saw his wife, fair he her gret,* *greeted And wept, that it was ruthe for to see, For at the firste look he on her set He knew well verily that it was she: And she, for sorrow, as dumb stood as a tree: So was her hearte shut in her distress, When she remember’d his unkindeness.

Twice she swooned in his owen sight, He wept and him excused piteously: “Now God,” quoth he, “and all his hallows bright* *saints So wisly* on my soule have mercy, *surely That of your harm as guilteless am I, As is Maurice my son, so like your face, Else may the fiend me fetch out of this place.”

Long was the sobbing and the bitter pain, Ere that their woeful heartes mighte cease; Great was the pity for to hear them plain,* *lament Through whiche plaintes gan their woe increase. I pray you all my labour to release, I may not tell all their woe till to-morrow, I am so weary for to speak of sorrow.

But finally, when that the *sooth is wist,* *truth is known* That Alla guiltless was of all her woe, I trow an hundred times have they kiss’d, And such a bliss is there betwixt them two, That, save the joy that lasteth evermo’, There is none like, that any creature Hath seen, or shall see, while the world may dure.

Then prayed she her husband meekely In the relief of her long piteous pine,* *sorrow That he would pray her father specially, That of his majesty he would incline To vouchesafe some day with him to dine: She pray’d him eke, that he should by no way Unto her father no word of her say.

Some men would say,<17> how that the child Maurice Did this message unto the emperor: But, as I guess, Alla was not so nice,* *foolish To him that is so sovereign of honor As he that is of Christian folk the flow’r, Send any child, but better ’tis to deem He went himself; and so it may well seem.

This emperor hath granted gentilly To come to dinner, as he him besought: And well rede* I, he looked busily *guess, know Upon this child, and on his daughter thought. Alla went to his inn, and as him ought Arrayed* for this feast in every wise, *prepared *As farforth as his cunning* may suffice. *as far as his skill*

The morrow came, and Alla gan him dress,* *make ready And eke his wife, the emperor to meet: And forth they rode in joy and in gladness, And when she saw her father in the street, She lighted down and fell before his feet. “Father,” quoth she, “your younge child Constance Is now full clean out of your remembrance.

“I am your daughter, your Constance,” quoth she, “That whilom ye have sent into Syrie; It am I, father, that in the salt sea Was put alone, and damned* for to die. *condemned Now, goode father, I you mercy cry, Send me no more into none heatheness, But thank my lord here of his kindeness.”

Who can the piteous joye tellen all, Betwixt them three, since they be thus y-met? But of my tale make an end I shall, The day goes fast, I will no longer let.* *hinder These gladde folk to dinner be y-set; In joy and bliss at meat I let them dwell, A thousand fold well more than I can tell.

This child Maurice was since then emperor Made by the Pope, and lived Christianly, To Christe’s Churche did he great honor: But I let all his story passe by, Of Constance is my tale especially, In the olde Roman gestes* men may find *histories<19> Maurice’s life, I bear it not in mind.