Well {107}pleased at Augier's words, which seemed to raise his heart by
full a span, Jaufry spurred bravely on, and by the morrow safely reached
the spot his host had named. While he was passing through the scattered
tents, the knights, who stared at him, exclaimed aloud:
“Behold a man who has ridden the night long, and hastens forward, but to
seek his loss.”
Seeming as though he never heard the words, he to the noble castle
straightway hied; which seemed most rich, and sculptured with fine art.
Seeing a portal set with marble leaves and tinged of various hues, he
there got down, secured his horse, and near him placing both his lance
and shield, he passed within the door. At first {108}his eyes no other
forms beheld than those which omed the walls; but as he wandered on from
room to room, he came at length where lay the wounded knight, and at his
couch two dames in robes of woe, and tears upon their cheeks. As he was
counselled by good Augier, then he to the elder went, and prayed her
courteously, in Heaven's name, to tell him where was Taulat, and why the
people of that land he left did day and night so weep.
Charmed with his breeding and his knightly words, the lady then
explained that Taulat, whose brutality and pride exceeded bounds, would
in eight days return.
“He comes,” she said, “to glut his cruelty upon the wretched man who
yonder lies. Seven years agone he with his lance did wound him cruelly;
and when that wound is healed, each year, upon the feast-day of St.
John, he has him fastened to a stake hard by, and beaten with a scourge
until the wounds are opened once again. For this the vassals of the
neighbouring land of Brunissende,--whereof this knight is lord,--weep
and lament, and e'en do put to death those who would spy into their
cause of grief.”
“Lady,” Sir Jaufry said, “pride slays its lord; and by {109}that pride,
I trust, will Taulat fall. In eight days' time to seek him I will come;
and I can truly say that term will seem a year.”
Commending her to Heaven, he left those halls, mounted again his horse,
and took his way towards a neighbouring wood, where he did trust some
man to meet to lodge him in his hut. The wood was gloomy, intricate,
and dense; and at the first cross-road before him, he beheld, squatted
beneath a pine, a hag, whose aspect struck him with surprise.
[Illustration: 141]
Her head was larger than a portal's arch; her eyes were small as
deniers, bleared besides and blue, misshapen, and deep-sunk beneath
projecting brows. Her lips were black; teeth red as orpiment, which
jutted out unseemly from her jaw. Her arms were sinewy, and her hands
all knots; her face was colourless and wrinkled o'er; her body puffed;
her shoulders round and high; her legs were skinny and of brownish hue;
her knees were pointed; her toe-nails so long, no shoe could ever have
enclosed her feet. A verdant wreath encircled her white hair, which
stiffly stood on end. Her under-garment was of linen fine; her robe of
ruddy silk; and over all a scarlet mantle fell, with ermine lined.
Jaufry saluted her; meanwhile with awe he gazed upon {110}her figure
strange, and ugly face. She turned her head, and without moving from her
darksome seat, exclaimed:
“Retrace thy steps, sir knight, and that at once.”
“Not so, indeed,” quoth Jaufry, “till I learn why thou dost tell me thus
to flee away.”
“Thou wilt repent it, then,” the hag replied; “and death or dungeon
shalt thou surely find.”
“And wherefore so?”
“Go on, and thou wilt learn.”
“Tell me at least with whom I'll have to strive.”
“Those thou shalt meet will say.”
“And thou, too; what art thou?”
“What thou beholdst!” the hag exclaimed, as, rising, she unfolded her
huge length, tall as a knightly lance.
“Heaven!” Sir Jaufry cried, “in thee I trust; what figure have we here?”
[Illustration: 144]
“Dare to pass onwards,” growled the wretched hag, “and thou shalt meet
with worse.”
“Nathless they stay not me: as to thy threats,” he said, “I hold them as
the wind, or nothingness.” Pricking his charger as he spoke the words,
he passed along the path.
The hag, {111}however, had but told the truth. For as he reached a
chapel small, a holy hermit served, a knight of sable hue, mounting
a sable horse, with sable arms, assailed him with such strength and
unawares, that horse and knight were on the turf o'er-thrown. Jaufry,
all red with shame, at once upsprang, and, sword in hand, wished to
avenge his fall; but, lo, no foe was there. He looked about, above,
around, below, but horse and knight had vanished quite away. Again he
mounted on his charger's back, when, at the instant, his strange foe
returned, with lowered lance to strike at him again. Jaufry, prepared,
now flew at him in turn; they midway met with shock so terrible, each
rolled upon the earth. Half-wild with anger then, quick as the lightning
Jaufry was afoot, with shield on guard and ready for the fight; but
ne'er a foe was there.
[Illustration: 148]
“I will yet find him out,” Sir Jaufry said, as in his saddle he again
did leap. But scarce was foot in stirrup firmly set when back returned
the sable knight, hissing and growling as the thunder doth when tempests
vex the air, and for the third time bore him to the ground. Jaufry, on
his side, had so aimed his lance, it pierced his foe right through,
and cast him on the turf. But when {112}he wished to give the
_coup-de-grace_, in vain he sought the knight, he neither saw nor heard.
“Good Heaven!” Jaufry cried, “where hath this recreant, this demon,
fled? I drive my lance a fathom through his breast, I hurl him to the
ground; and yet he flies, and doth escape my wrath! O gracious Lord, in
Thee I put my trust!”
Again he mounted as he spoke these words; when the invisible once more
appeared, unhorsing him anew. Why re-describe the scene? While daylight
lasted, still this game went on. When off his horse, no creature did he
see; but as he sat him on his charger's back the sable knight appeared
to strike and hew. Weary of fight, Sir Jaufry then resolved to go on
foot into the chapel-gate; but as he took his way, the spectre then his
onward footsteps barred, so that the battle did again commence, and in
the darkness without pause went on.
For half that night their swords and lances clashed, so that bright
sparks of fire upward flew; fatigued at length to hear such din of arms,
the hermit rose, and with his stole and cross and holy water, chanting
a psalm, forth issued from his cell. The sable knight did not attend
his coming; shrieking aloud, at once he disappeared, albeit behind him
leaving such a storm as {113}suffered no allay, until the chapel-bell
rang out the matin hour.
Sheltered by this good man, Sir Jaufry asked, and thus obtained from
him, the secret of the knight with whom he had fought so long.
“Friend, what thou ask'st I'll tell thee in few words: this knight in
sable armour is a fiend, evoked from realms of darkness by a hag, whom
thou perchance hast met upon thy way. This hideous wretch once boasted
as her spouse a monstrous giant, whose most wicked acts for twenty
leagues around had spoiled the earth. As mortal, all-ferocious though he
be, is ne'er without his peer, it happed this giant did return one night
so grievously ill-used, that, at the end of three short days, he died.
The hag, then, fearing for her own sad life and that of her two sons,
called by her magic from the lower world that evil spirit who, for
thirty years, these lands hath vexed. Meantime her sons have waxed in
years and strength, and closely followed in their father's steps. Grown
leprous, one, he dwelt within a house, built by his mother by the
force of spells, whither his brother hath set out in haste, enraged and
tost,--for that the rumour saith a knight of Arthur's court the wretch
hath slain. An it {114}be true, may Heaven, all powerful, defend that
knight!”
“He will endeavour to defend himself,” quoth Jaufry smiling; “and the
raged giant, if he held the wish, need not have gone so far to find him
out: I am the man who did his brother slay, and by whose hand the wicked
spell was burst.”
Eight days being fled, the hermit chanted mass, and at the altar prayed
the holy saints to guide Sir Jaufry, and protect his life against the
monster's wrath. Having devoutly joined him in the prayer, the son
of Dovon, like a valiant knight, did joyously set out; and scarce
had ridden for an hour's space when he beheld the giant swiftly come,
bearing beneath his arm,--with the same ease as he had done a child,--a
damsel, who did utter doleful cries. Her voice was hoarse from screaming
out for help; her yellow hair, which sparkled in the sun, upon her
shoulders all dishevelled fell like molten gold; her robe was tom, her
eyes were swollen with tears; scarce, by Saint Mary! had she strength
remaining to implore help of Jaufry.
The knight, with pity touched, heard not in vain the prayer. His shield
advanced, his lance within the rest, {115}he at the giant rode, and
called aloud that he should loose the maid.
Letting her truly for an instant go, the giant ran towards the nearest
tree, and pulling at the trunk, unearthed it, roots and all. Before,
however, he had done so quite, Jaufry had plunged his lance into his
side. Checked by the stroke, and trembling in the hand, the giant's blow
lost half of its effect, yet ne'er the less it bore to mother earth both
Jaufry and his steed. The knight full quickly leapt upon his feet; and
with his ready sword struck at the monster with such vigorous hand, he
sliced from off his flank a palm of flesh; and through the gaping wound
one might behold his beating heart, whilst streams of blood poured
through. Exhausted, tottering, still the giant overthrew the knight by
striking with his fist upon his helm; but though his sword escaped from
Jaufry's grasp, it was too late for harm,--the giant fainting fell. On
this, the knight hewed off his monstrous feet; when, in all gentleness,
the maid he raised, for she had kneeled at her preserver's side, and
thus did say:
“Accept, my lord, a thousand grateful thanks; for more than life have
you preserved for me, in saving me from him!”
“Damsel,” {116}Sir Jaufry answered, “God for ever aid you! But explain
how is't I find you here?”
“My lord, 'tis easy to relate the tale: but yesterday I in an orchard
strayed, to which my mother had conducted me; it was our usual walk;
when, as we left the gates, behold, yon giant suddenly appeared, seized
me at once, and to his castle now was bearing me away, when you, sir
knight, so happily stepped in.”
“I thank great Heaven, it was just in time! But where, I pray you, was
your worthy sire, and where your brothers, when this giant came?”
“Hunting within the forest, good my lord: but you surprise me, asking
me of them. One fain would say that you did know them all; and yet,
methinks, I ne'er have seen yourself.”
“Sweet damsel, yea, and that few days agone. 'Twas at your father's,
Augier's good house, where I, at need, so courteously was served by you
and all of yours.”
“Blest be the hour, gentle lord and knight, you harboured 'neath our
roof; and we, how happy to have you for guest!”
“By this you see, my fair and courteous maid, how meet it is that we
should service do, even to those unknown. {117}One knows not who shall
go or who shall come, they who do hold or they who hold them not, or
what the future keeps for us in store. Well it becomes us, then, to
render help where help we can; welcome with courtesy, and honour guests
with shelter and with food, whom chance may send us as they onward go.”
“And where, Sir Jaufry,” then inquired the maid, “if I may ask, do you
direct your steps?”
“I will explain as we do ride along. But I must haste: time presses; and
e'en now I greatly fear me I shall come too late.”
[Illustration: 155]
Remounting quickly as these words were said, he then good Augier's
daughter lifted up and placed upon his horse; for he resolved she should
not quit his sight until he put her in her father's arms: this done he
rode apace towards the spot where lay the wounded knight.