Old French Romances Part 7

For the history testifieth us, and telleth of a verity, that a merchant s.h.i.+p which came from the parts of Flanders, before the Count and his fellows were well come aland, saw the tun floating even as the winds and waves led it. So said one of the merchants to his fellows: "Masters, lo there a tun, and it shall come our way, meseemeth; and if we draw it aboard, well shall we have some avail of it in any case."

Now know ye that this s.h.i.+p was wont to go to the Land of the Saracens for cheaping. So the mariners drew thither where was the tun, and did so much, what by wile, what by force, that they gat the tun on to their s.h.i.+p. And when the tun was laid on their s.h.i.+p, they looked much thereon, and much marvelled what it might be; and so much, that they beheld how one of the heads of the said tun was newly arrayed.

Wherefore they unheaded it, and found the Lady therein, in such case as though her hour were waning, for air failed her. Her body was big, her visage all swollen, and her eyes ugly and troubled. But when she saw the air, and felt the wind, she sighed a little, and the merchants stood about her and called unto her, but she had no might to speak. But at last the heart came aback to her, and speech withal, and she spoke to the merchants and other folk whom she saw around her; and much she marvelled when she found herself in such wise amidst of the merchants; but when she saw of them that they were Christians and merchants, the more at ease she was, and much she praised Jesus Christ therefor in her heart, and thanked him of his goodness, whereas he had so done by her that she yet had a s.p.a.ce of life. For she had much great devotion in her heart, and much great desire to amend her life toward G.o.d, and toward others, of the misdeeds she had done, whereof she doubted mightily.

The merchants asked her of whence she was, and she hid the matter from them, and said that a wretched thing she was, and a poor sinner, even as they might behold; and that by much cruel adventure was she thither come; and for G.o.d's sake let them have mercy upon her: and they answered that even so would they. And she ate and drank, and became much fair.

Now so far went the s.h.i.+p of the merchants, that they came to the Land of the Saracens, and took haven by Aumarie. Galleys of the Saracens came to meet them, and they answered that they were merchants who led divers merchandise by many lands; and that they had the safe-conduct of princes and high barons, and that they might go into all lands surely, to seek chaffer and lead their goods.

So they brought the Lady aland, and were with her. And one asked the other what they should do with her; and one said that they should sell her; and another said: "If I may be trowed, we shall give her as a gift to the rich Soudan of Aumarie, and then will our matter be mightily amended."

Thereto they accorded all, and they took the Lady and brought her to the Soudan, who was a young man: but first they did do attire and array the Lady much richly, and so gave her to the Soudan, who received the Lady much joyously and with much good-will, for right fair was she. The Soudan asked of them what she was, and they said: "Sir, we wot not; but by marvellous adventure did we find her."

Much good-will had the Soudan to them of this gift, and much good he did to them therefor. Much he loved the Lady withal, and he let serve her honourably. Well was she heeded, and the colour came again unto her, and she became marvellous fair.

The Soudan fell to coveting the Lady and to loving of her; and he let ask her by Latiners of what folk she was, but no sooth thereof would she tell him or let him know. Thereof was he heavy, whereas he saw of her that she was a high woman, and of gentle lineage. He let ask of her if she were Christian, and that if she would leave her law he would take her to wife, for no wife had he as yet. She saw well that better it were to come thereto by love than by force, so she answered that so would she do of a good will; and when she had renied her, and had left her law, the Soudan took her to wife according to the manner and wont of the Land of the Saracens. He held her right dear, and honoured her much, and waxed of great love towards her.

But a little while was she with the Soudan ere she was big of a son, and lay in at her time; the Soudan was right glad, and made much great joy. And the dame was ever of good fellows.h.i.+p with the folk, and much courteous and of good will toward them, and learnt so much that she knew the Saracen tongue.

But a little while wore in the years whereas she had the son, ere she conceived and had a daughter, who anon became much fair and much wise, and in all lordliness she let nourish her. Thus was the Lady abiding a two years in much joy and mirth.

But now the story leaves telling of the Lady and the Soudan till after, as ye shall come to hear, and returneth to the Count of Ponthieu, and to the son of the Count, and to Messire Thibault of Dontmart, who were sore grieving for the Lady who had been thuswise cast into the sea, even as ye have heard, and knew no tidings of her, what was become of her, and trowed more that she were dead than alive.

Now saith the history, and the sooth beareth witness thereto, that the Count was in Ponthieu, and his son, and Messire Thibault. The Count was in sore great sadness, and heavy thought of his daughter, and much he doubted him of the sin which he had done. Messire Thibault durst not to wed him; nor did the son of the Count either, because of the dolour wherein he saw his friends abiding. Neither would the son of the Count become knight, though he were well of an age thereto, had he the will.

On a day the Count forthought him much of the sin which he had done to his daughter, and he betook him to the Archbishop of Rheims and confessed to him, and said to him all the deed, as he had done it.

He took the cross of Over Sea, and crossed him. And whenas Messire Thibault saw his lord the Count crossed, he confessed him and crossed him withal. Likewise, when the son of the Count saw his father crossed, and Messire Thibault also, whom he loved much, he also crossed himself. And when the Count saw his son crossed, he was much grieved, and said: "Fair son, wherefore art thou crossed? Now shall the land abide void of lord." But the son answered and said: "Father, I am crossed for G.o.d's sake first before all things, and for the saving of my soul, and to serve G.o.d and honour him to my power, so long as I shall have the life in my body."

So the Count arrayed him speedily and bestirred him, and went and took leave; but withal he looked to it who should ward his land. And Messire Thibault and the son of the Count dight their matters, and they took to the way with much great safe-conduct. They came in the Land of Over Sea safe of body and havings, and there they did their pilgrimage much holily in all the places whereas they wotted that it ought to be done, and G.o.d to be served.

And when the Count had so done, he bethought him that he would well to do yet more: so he gave himself to the service of the Temple for one year, him and his company; and then when it came to the end of the year, deemed that he would go visit his land and his country.

Wherefore he sent unto Acre and let array his journey, and he took leave of them of the Temple, and of the land, and much they thanked him for the honour which he had brought them. He came to Acre with his fellows, and they went aboard s.h.i.+p, and departed from the haven with right good wind at will; but it endured but for a little; for when they were on the high sea, then did a wind mighty and horrible fall upon them unawares; and the mariners knew not whitherward they went, and every hour they looked to be drowned; and so great was their distress that they bound themselves together, the son to the father, the nephew to the uncle, yea, one to the other, even as they were intermingled. The Count and his son and Messire Thibault bound themselves together so that they might not sunder.

But a little way had they gone in this wise ere they saw land; and they asked the mariners what land it was, and they answered that it was the Land of the Saracens; and they called it the Land of Aumarie, and said unto the Count: "Sir, what is thy pleasure that we do? for if we go yonder, we shall be all taken and fall into the hands of the Saracens." The Count said to them: "Let go according to the will of Jesus Christ, who shall take heed to our bodies and our lives; for of an eviller or uglier death we may not die than to die in this sea."

So they let run along Aumarie, and galleys and craft of the Saracens came against them. Wot ye well that this was an evil meeting; for they took them and brought them before the Soudan, who was lord of that land and country. So they made him a present of the Christians and of all their havings: the Soudan departed them, and sent them to divers places of his prisons. The Count of Ponthieu and his son and Messire Thibault were so strongly bound together that they might not be sundered. The Soudan commanded that they should be laid in a prison by themselves, where they should have but little to eat and little to drink; and it was done even as he commanded. There were they a while of time in great misease, and so long that the son of the Count was much sick, insomuch that the Count and Messire Thibault had fear of his dying.

Thereafter it fell out that the Soudan held court much mightily, and made great joy for his birthday; and this was after the custom of the Saracens.

After dinner came the Saracens unto the Soudan, and said to him: "Sir, we require of thee our right." He asked them what it was, and they said: "Sir, a captive Christian to set up at the b.u.t.ts." So he granted it to them whereas it was a matter of nought, and he said to them: "Go ye to the gaol, and take him who has the least of life in him."

To the gaol they went, and drew out the Count, all bedone with a thick beard; and when the Soudan saw him in so poor estate, he said to them: "This one hath little might to live; go ye, lead him hence, and do ye your will on him."

The wife of the Soudan, of whom ye have heard, who was daughter of the Count, was in the place whereas the Count who was her father was being led to the death, and so soon as she saw him, the blood and the heart was stirred within her, not so much for that she knew him, but rather that nature constrained her. Then said the Lady to the Soudan: "Sir, I am French, wherefore I would willingly speak to yonder poor man before he dieth, if it please thee." "Yea, dame,"

said the Soudan, "it pleaseth me well."

So the Lady came to the Count, and drew him apart, and caused the Saracens to draw aback, and asked him of whence he was, and he said: "Lady, I am of the kingdom of France, of a land which is called Ponthieu."

When the Lady heard that, all the blood of her stirred within her, and straightway she asked of what kindred he was. "Certes, dame,"

said he, "it may not import to me of what kin I be, for I have suffered so many pains and griefs since I departed, that I love better to die than to live; but so much can I tell thee of a sooth, that I was the Count of Ponthieu."

When the Lady heard that, she made no semblance, but forthwith departed from the Count and came to the Soudan, and said: "Sir, give me this captive, if it please thee, for he knoweth the chess and the tables, and fair tales withal, which shall please thee much; and he shall play before thee and learn thee." "Dame," said the Soudan, "by my law, wot that with a good will I will give him thee; do with him as thou wilt."

Then the Lady took him and sent him into her chamber, and the jailers went to seek another, and led out Messire Thibault, who was the husband of the Lady; and in sorry raiment was he, for he was dight with long hair, and had a great beard; he was lean and fleshless, as one who had suffered pain and dolour enough. When the Lady saw him, she said unto the Soudan: "Sir, again with this one would I willingly speak, if it please thee." "Dame," said the Soudan, "it pleaseth me well." So the Lady came to Messire Thibault, and asked him of whence he was, and he said: "I am of the land of the old warrior whom they led before thee e'en now: and I had his daughter to wife; and I am a knight."

The Lady knew well her lord, so she went back unto the Soudan, and said to him: "Sir, great goodness wilt thou do unto me if thou wilt give me this one also." "Dame," said he, "with a good will I will give him to thee." So she thanked him, and sent him into her chamber with the other.

But the archers hastened and came to the Soudan, and said: "Sir, thou doest us wrong, and the day is a-waning." And therewith they went to the gaol and brought out the son of the Count, who was all covered with his hair and dishevelled, as one who had not been washen a while. Young man he was, so that he had not yet a beard; but so lean he was, and so sick and feeble, that scarce might he hold him up. And when the Lady saw him, she had of him much great pity. She came to him and asked of him whose son, and whence he was, and he said he was the son of the first worthy. Then she wotted well that he was her brother, but no semblance she made thereof.

"Sir, certes," said she to the Soudan, "thou wilt now do me great goodness if thou wilt give me this one also; for he knows the chess and the tables, and all other games, which much shall please thee to see and to hear." But the Soudan said: "Dame, by my law, were there an hundred of them I would give them unto thee willingly."

The Lady thanked him much, and took her brother, and sent him straightway into her chamber. But the folk betook them anew to the gaol, and brought forth another; and the Lady departed thence, whereas she knew him not. So was he led to his martyrdom, and our Lord Jesus Christ received his soul. But the Lady went her ways forthwith; for it pleased her not, the martyrdoms which the Saracens did on the Christians.

She came to her chamber wherein were the prisoners, and when they saw her coming, they made as they would rise up, but she made sign to them to hold them still. Then she went close up to them, and made them sign of friends.h.i.+p. And the Count, who was right sage, asked thereon: "Dame, when shall they slay us?" And she answered that it would not be yet. "Dame," said they, "thereof are we heavy; for we have so great hunger, that it lacketh but a little of our hearts departing from us."

Thereat she went forth and let array meat; and then she brought it, and gave to each one a little, and a little of drink. And when they had taken it, then had they yet greater hunger than afore. Thuswise she gave them to eat, ten times the day, by little and little; for she doubted that if they ate all freely, that they would take so much as would grieve them. Wherefore she did them to eat thus attemperly.

Thuswise did the good dame give them might again; and they were before her all the first seven days, and the night-tide she did them to lie at their ease; and she did them do off their evil raiment and let give them good and new. After the eighth day, she had strengthened them little by little and more and more; and then she let bring them victuals and drink to their contentment, and in such wise that they were so strong that she abandoned to them the victual and the drink withal. They had chequers and tables, and played thereon, and were in all content. The Soudan was ofttimes with them, and good will he had to see them play, and much it pleased him. But the dame refrained her sagely toward them, so that never was one of them that knew her, neither by word nor deed of hers.

But a little while wore after this matter, as telleth the tale, ere the Soudan had to do, for a rich soudan, who marched on him, laid waste his land, and fell to harrying him. And he, to avenge his trouble, summoned folk from every part, and a.s.sembled a great host.

When the Lady knew thereof she came into the chamber whereas were the prisoners, and she sat down before them, and spoke to them, and said: "Lords, ye have told me of your matters a deal; now would I wot whether that which ye have told me be true or not: for ye told me that thou wert Count of Ponthieu on the day that thou departedst therefrom, and that that man had had thy daughter to wife, and that the other one was thy son. Now, I am Saracen, and know the art of astronomy: wherefore I tell you well, that never were ye so nigh to a shameful death as now ye be, if ye tell me not the truth. Thy daughter, whom this knight had, what became of her?"

"Lady," said the Count, "I trow that she be dead." "What wise died she?" quoth she. "Certes, Lady," said the Count, "by an occasion which she had deserved." "And what was the occasion?" said the Lady.

Then the Count fell to tell, sore weeping, how she was wedded, and of the tarrying, whereby she might not have a child; and how the good knight promised his ways to St. Jakeme in Galicia, and how the Lady besought him that she might go along with him, and he granted it willingly. And how they bestirred them with great joy, and went their ways, and so far that they came unto a place where they were without company. Then met they in a forest robbers well armed, who fell upon them. The good knight might do nothing against all them, for he was lacking of arms; but amidst all that he slew three, and five were left, who fell upon him and slew his palfrey, and took the knight and stripped him to the s.h.i.+rt, and bound him hand and foot, and cast him into a briar-bush: and the Lady they stripped, and took from her her palfrey. They beheld the Lady, and saw that she was full fair, and each one would have her. At the last, they accorded betwixt them hereto, that they should lie with her, and they had their will of her in her despite; and when they had so done they went their ways, and she abode, much grieving and much sad. The good knight beheld it, and said much sweetly: "Dame, now unbind me my hands, and let us be going." Now she saw a sword, which was of one of the slain strong-thieves; she took it, and went towards her lord, who lay as aforesaid; she came in great ire by seeming, and said: "Yea, unbind thee I will." Then she held the sword all bare, and hove it up, and thought to smite him amidst the body, but by the good mercy of Jesus Christ, and by the valiancy of the knight, he turned upso down, and she smote the bonds he was bound withal, and sundered them, and he leapt up, for as bound and hurt as he was, and said: "Dame, if G.o.d will, thou shalt slay me not to-day."

At this word spake the Lady, the wife of the Soudan: "Ha, sir! thou sayest the sooth; and well I know wherefore she would to do it."

"Dame," said the Count, "and wherefore?" "Certes," quoth she, "for the great shame which had befallen her."

When Messire Thibault heard that, he fell a-weeping much tenderly, and said: "Ha, alas! what fault had she therein then, Lady? So may G.o.d give me deliverance from this prison wherein I am, never should I have made worse semblance to her therefor, whereas it was maugre her will."

"Sir," said the Lady, "that she deemed nought. Now tell me," she said, "which deem ye the rather, that she be quick or dead?" "Dame,"

said he, "we wot not." "Well wot I," said the Count, "of the great pain we have suffered, which G.o.d hath sent us for the sin which I did against her." "But if it pleased G.o.d," said the Lady, "that she were alive, and that ye might have of her true tidings, what would ye say thereto?" "Lady," said the Count, "then were I gladder than I should be to be delivered out of this prison, or to have so much riches as never had I in my life." "Dame," said Messire Thibault, "may G.o.d give me no joy of that which I most desire, but I were not the gladder than to be king of France." "Dame," said the varlet who was her brother, "certes none could give me or promise me thing whereof I should be so glad as of the life of my sister, who was so fair a dame, and so good."

But when the Lady heard these words, then was the heart of her softened and she praised G.o.d, and gave him thanks therefor, and said to them: "Take heed, now, that there be no feigning in your words."

And they answered and said that none there was. Then fell the Lady a-weeping tenderly, and said to them: "Sir, now mayest thou well say that thou art my father, and I thy daughter, even her on whom thou didest such cruel justice. And thou, Messire Thibault, thou art my lord and my baron. And thou, sir varlet, art my brother."

Therewith she told them how the merchants had found her, and how they gave her as a gift to the Soudan. And when they heard that, they were much glad, and made much great joy, and humbled them before her; but she forbade them that they should make any semblance, and said: "I am Saracen, and renied, for otherwise I might never endure, but were presently dead. Wherefore I pray you and bid you, for as dear as ye hold your lives and honours, and your havings the greater, that ye never once, whatso ye may hear or see, make any more fair semblance unto me, but hold you simply. So leave me to deal therewith. Now shall I tell you wherefore I have uncovered me to you. The Soudan, who is now my lord, goeth presently a-riding; and I know thee well" (said she to Messire Thibault), "that thou art a valiant man and a good knight: therefore I will pray the Soudan to take thee with him; and then if ever thou wert valiant, now do thou show it, and serve the Soudan so well that he may have no evil to tell of thee."

Therewith departed the Lady, and came unto the Soudan, and said: "Sir, one of my prisoners will go with thee, if it please thee."

"Dame," said he, "I would not dare trust me to him, lest he do me some treason." "Sir," she said, "in surety mayest thou lead him along; for I will hold the others." "Dame," said he, "I will lead him with me, since thou counsellest me so, and I will give him a horse much good, and arms, and all that is meet for him."

So then the Lady went back, and said to Messire Thibault: "I have done so much with the Soudan, that thou shalt go with him. Now bethink thee to do well." But her brother kneeled before her, and prayed her that she would do so much with the Soudan that he also should go. But said she: "I will not do it, the matter be over open thereby."

The Soudan arrayed his matters and went his ways, and Messire Thibault with him, and they went against the enemy. The Soudan delivered to Messire Thibault arms and horse. By the will of Jesus Christ, who never forgetteth them who have in him trust and good faith, Messire Thibault did so much in arms, that in a little while the enemy of the Soudan was brought under, whereof much was the Soudan rejoiced; he had the victory, and led away much folk with him.

And so soon as he was come back, he went to the Lady, and said: "Dame, by my law, I much praise thy prisoner, for much well hath he served me; and if he will cast aside his law and take ours, I will give him wide lands, and richly will I marry him." "Sir," she said, "I wot not, but I trow not that he will do it." Therewith they were silent, so that they spake not more. But the Lady dighted in her business straightway after these things the best she might, and she came to her prisoners, and said:

"Lords, now do ye hold ye wisely, that the Soudan perceive not our counsel; for, if G.o.d please, we shall yet be in France and the land of Ponthieu."

Now came a day when the Lady moaned much, and complained her, and came before the Soudan, and said: "Sir, I go with child, well I wot it, and am fallen into great infirmity, nor ever since thy departure have I eaten aught wherein was any savour to me." "Dame," said he, "I am heavy of thy sickness, but much joyous that thou art with child. But now command and devise all things that thou deemest might be good for thee, and I will let seek and array them, whatsoever they may cost me."