Never {119}did help come more in time of need. Returned that very morn,
Taulat had bound his prisoner to a stake; and four stout ploughmen, each
armed with a strap, already raised their brawny arms to strike and ope
the closed wounds. But as Jaufry came, they stayed their hand to
gaze awhile at him; nor less surprised than they, Taulat, who on the
castle-terrace stood, descended in hot haste and thus accosted Jaufry:
“Sir knight, I fain would learn what madness or what pride hath thus
conducted thee into my lands. Dismount and doff thine arms, for thou art
prisoner henceforth for ay.”
“My lord,” the knight replied, “methinks you practise an unseemly haste.
Give me, I beg, the time to {120}tell my errand. I come to speak in
favour of the knight your knaves were going to strike; and I entreat
you, for the sake of me, to grant unto him grace.”
“May Heaven help me!” Taulat answered him, “but sure thou art
distraught: such words deserve the rope,--a peasant's death.”
“'Twould be a grievous wrong, my lord, the words being good and wise;
again I do repeat them, praying grace for yonder knight, who seven long
years hath groaned.”
“Go, churl; too long I've listed; go and disarm thyself, if thou wilt
live, and to my squires give up the girl with thee.”
“If she's dishonoured and I put to shame, this arm, by Heaven, must
indeed be weak.”
“What! wouldst thou fight with me?”
“E'en unto death, before I suffer shame.”
“Vain fool, beware; when on my neck I've put my shield, thoult find but
little grace.”
“Mine ear,” quoth Jaufry, “hath been oft assailed by higher threats than
these. I do reply, that, by the faith of Him who built this world, you
shall set free yon knight, and to the court of good King Arthur go, to
pay the felony you there have done; or you shall {121}fight with me,
till you or I be vanquished and slain.”
“Know'st thou then not, I've fought and conquered full five hundred
knights, all better men than thou?”
“It may be so,” quoth Jaufry; “now for proof: go get your arms, and
God's high will be done!”
“No other armour,” proudly Taulat said, “do I require than my good lance
and shield: seven of thy strength might then come on, and I'd defy you
all.”
“'Tis madness,” did Sir Jaufry make reply, “to enter fight unarmed. But
since your pride doth blind your senses so, e'en have it as you will.”
Furious at the words, Taulat addressed a squire: “Go to the castle,
quickly as thou canst; bring me my lance and shield, and tell the
knights I've conquered one by one to meet me here, that they may witness
a base peasant's death, as with a single blow I do intend, through
shield and hauberk, to find out his heart. And at the instant should
this not be done, may I lose arms and chivalry and lady's love!”
The squire ran quickly to the scattered camp, where lodged the captive
knights,--who all were grieving for the wounded man, bound to the stake
and waiting for the scourge,--to them he briefly said:
“Barons, {122}my lord attends you there beyond, that you may see him
battle with a fool, who comes to seek his death.”
Mounting then speedily the castle-stair,--amid the tears and murmurs of
the dames who ceaseless mourned,--he took him down the shield and lance
suspended to the rack, and bore them to his lord, who, vaulting on his
horse, nor stopping to don breastplate or aught else, cried in a haughty
tone:
“Come to thy death, thou churl, whose sight offends me!”
Sir Jaufry, angered at the insult, then dashed at full speed upon the
haughty knight, who like a lion came: so fearful was the shock, no
saddle, girth, or art, availed Sir Jaufry. Down to the earth he rolled
beneath the stroke. But not alone; for Taulat on his side, by blow as
vigorous and deftly put, at the same instant fell, his shield pierced
through, and Jaufry's lance within his side.
A shout of joy upsprang from those good knights:
“Good Heaven, but this day thou chast'nest Taulat, and dost break that
pride which long hath vexed the land!”'
Jaufry meanwhile, his sword within his grasp, ran to {123}fierce
Rugimon, fast pinned to earth, as though some snake he were; but as he
came, Taulat in humble tone exclaimed:
“For God's love, knight, O do not end thy work; for 'tis my folly that
hath brought my death.”
“Thy folly, true, was great,” Sir Jaufry said; “but ere we part, I count
on curing thee. Too long this pride endured, it now must have an end.
Thou deem'st this morn no knight was in the world who in address and
strength could vie with thee. Most brave no doubt thou wast; but thy
consuming and most wicked pride exceeded far thy valour, and 'tis a
vice God neither loves nor bears. Thou now canst learn that, but for
His resolve to chasten thee, this youthful arm,--certes less robust than
thine,--would ne'er have cast thee down. 'Tis but the punishment for thy
fierce pride, the outrage thou to good King Arthur didst,--that flower
of chivalry, whose uprightness God loves. And thus it fares with those
who seek his shame: sooner or later will the knights, who sit at his
Round Table famed, mete out their punishment, save 'neath the earth they
hide. What they can do in fight, thou mayst surmise by me, a novice,
scarcely two months armed, and who have sought thee day and night until
this {124}hour, when thou dost find the guerdon of thy deeds.”
“All that thou sayst, sir knight, is but too true,” Taulat replied in
weak and failing voice; “but mercy grant me, as thy conquered foe, as
dying man, and who doth yield to thee.”
“The mercy that thou prayst for, thou shalt have,” Sir Jaufry said; “but
upon certain terms: first, thou shalt go to good King Arthur's court,
there yield thyself a prisoner; he will take such vengeance on thee as
his honour claims.”
“That will I do; but now, for Heaven's sake, permit the leech to bind me
up this wound.”
“No leech shall come, nor e'er shalt thou uprise, till, by St. Thomas,
thou hast let go free the knight who's bound to yonder cruel stake, and
all the captives thou hast ever made.”
“Do as thou wilt, my lord, with them and me.” Jaufry at once did sheathe
his own good blade and take the sword of Taulat. Then he allowed the
squire to fetch the leech, who probed his master's hurt and washed the
wound with water and white wine, when on a couch he had him gently laid,
and borne within the gates.
Jaufry {125}meanwhile set free the wounded knight; and having extorted
from the captive lords their promise that they'd hasten to Carlisle, and
to King Arthur this affair relate, he was about to leave them to
God's care, when the wounded knight,--lord paramount of all those
gentlemen,--most humbly to him said:
“Good sir, to you I yield, and with my person offer men and lands. Most
nobly have you won all this and more, in freeing me from all the pangs
I've borne for seven weary years. So great those pangs, so cruel was my
lot, better for me had death relieved my woes. Taulat, without a cause
of enmity, hath tortured me full long; but now, by God's grace, and, sir
knight, by yours, at length his reign is o'er.”
“Good lord,” responded Jaufry, “pray retain your having; naught do I
wish for your deliverance, save that, with these brave knights, you do
proceed to good King Arthur's throne, and there explain you owe your
liberty to Dovon's son.”
The knight such promise gave; when Jaufry, calling for his horse, which
all prepared they brought, while Augier's daughter mounted by his side,
he took of all farewell, and then set out for the fair damsel's home;
{126}his thoughts, in sooth, turning to Brunissende, towards whom he
felt his heart most sweetly drawn.
When he had gone, Taulat returned the knights their steeds and arms,
and, by the compact made, departed in their train for fair Carlisle.
There they arrived upon the eleventh day. The worthy king gave audience
to a dame, who, bathed in tears, her castle was to lose within a week,
if she no champion found to meet her foe. When he had listed to her
dolorous words, the king aggrieved replied:
“Lady, were Gawain here, most willingly would he defend your cause; but
he is not: nor have I Dovon's son, nor Ivan bold, nor any of the braves
of my Round Table. If of the knights who here surround my throne,
there's standing one who'll venture your defence, great is the honour
that shall be his meed.”
But no one made reply. In vain the dame, turning to spurred heels, with
warmth exclaimed:
“'Fore Heaven, brave knights, shall it be said a woman came to seek in
this high court for aid, yet found it not?”
Still no one made reply.
'Twas at this moment Taulat's troop appeared; himself upon a gilded
litter laid, covered with sumptuous {127}cloth, and gently by two snowy
palfries borne. Five hundred knights he had in fight overthrown, armed
_cap-à-pie_, followed in his train, each mounted on a charger richly
decked. Their lord was at their head, who, as they reached the king,
knelt humbly down before that monarch's throne, and thus addressed him:
“Sire, may He who for our weal came down on earth, which eke His blood
bedewed, now grant you joy, and double your renown!”
“And you, friend, may He save!” the king replied. “But what, I pray, are
these, who seem so stout and good? And what the wounded man that litter
holds?”
“My lord, that man is Taulat.”
“Taulat de Rugimon?”
“My lord, the same; Jaufry, the son of Dovon, bravely vanquished him,
and hither sends him to the queen and you; so that you may, my lord,
such vengeance take as in your wisdom you consider fit, for that same
outrage, now two months agone, he did to you.”
“Heaven and earth,” King Arthur then exclaimed, “how well hath Jaufry
served me! Friend, tell me truth: when last you left him, was he safe
and sound?”
“Great {128}lord, he was, as doth comport such honoured and brave
knight, who hath nor grief nor fear. Naught else but good can harbour
with his name; and it were sweet to laud, if that his acts did not
upraise him more than words can ever reach. When you shall know from
what most cruel fate his valour hath snatched _me_, you will indeed be
full of wonderment. But this recital must before the queen and all her
dames be made.”
The king at once commanded unto Quex to go and seek the queen; the
seneschal obeyed, when meeting her,--
“Lady,” said he, “if it so meet your wish, the king, your lord and mine,
bids you to come and list a message brought by valiant knight who heads
a great escort.”
The queen at once proceeded to the hall with all her dames and damsels;
and when she placed herself beside her spouse, Melyan, the worthy
knight, addressed them thus:
“Lady, from brave Sir Jaufry, Dovon's son, I bring high reparation to
yourself and all your train. I bring you Taulat, hight of Rugimon,
that you may vengeance take for the affront that he hath done to you,
{129}and for the cruelty he's heaped on me. Learn, without motive he my
father slew, and me he wounded with such grievous hurt, that ne'er shall
I be healed. I was his captive in his castle kept; and when my wound
had closed, he to a stake did have me bound, and scourged by cruel hands
until the wound again was open laid. Each month did I this martyrdom
endure; which caused such dire despair throughout my lands, that, thrice
by day and thrice again by night, they gave aloose to tears and doleful
cries.”
“By Heaven,” exclaimed the worthy king at this, “what felon act!”
“By all the saints of heaven,” said the queen, “this was the reign of
haughty pride run wild!”
“Yea,” from the litter did Taulat respond, “I had, good sooth, most
wicked, foolish pride; but I have lost it all. A leech appeared, who in
a space most brief did work a cure. I sought in vain a knight who could
make head against me, and I've found my match. Never did better jouster
wield a lance: modest as brave, and generous as good, spite of my
insults,--which did merit death,--Sir Jaufry gave me grace, and granted
pardon. You, noble sire, who are the best of kings, deign but to imitate
his clemency, find {130}pardon give for that most foolish crime I here
did madly do.”
The worthy king, alway to good inclined, his pardon freely granted
to the knight; nay more, he used such reasons with the queen, that
Guenever, as generous, noble dame, her pardon likewise gave. Melyan
alone remained inflexible. Rejecting all entreaty, he resolved, as was
his right, since his was _corporal shame_, that Taulat should be judged
by legal court.
At once they called a hundred legists in, who, when they'd heard the
cause, the following sentence did at once proclaim:
“Taulat to Melyan shall be given up; who, month by month, shall bind
him to like stake, and by like hands on him inflict like punishment. The
court doth grant this power unto Melyan for seven years; with liberty
albeit in him to set his prisoner free whene'er he feel inclined to
grant him grace.”
At {131}the same hour the legists sentence passed, Sir Jaufry, riding
quickly with the maid, before the towers of Augier arrived. Warned of
his coming by the vassals' cries, who gave him joyful welcome and warm
thanks for having set their lord and suzerain free, Augier mounted
quickly on his horse, and with his sons came out to meet the knight.
Beside Sir Jaufry he perceived the maid, guiding with sweeter grace than
I can tell her gentle palfrey; but he knew her not, for she was veiled.
Descending from his horse as he approached the knight, who eke alighted
as he saw him come, he seized his hand, and with a trembling voice,--“My
lord,” he said, “within my castle come, as you did promise me. We will
most gladly there a welcome give, albeit my heart is melting with its
woe. Since {132}last we two did meet, a monster hath my daughter carried
off, and with her all my joys.”
“You did not guard her with sufficient care,” Sir Jaufry mildly said,
“since she is gone. What now remains to do? It was to be. None can avert
his fate; so be consoled, and dry at once your tears. Some days agone
I won a maid in fight, gentle and lovely as a maid can be; and if you
will, to you I'll give her up, that she may take the place of her that's
lost.”
“Alas, my lord,” good Augier replied, “where is the damsel or the dame
that can compete with her in grace, in gentle manners, gaiety, and love?
Her like is still unborn; and for my rest of days this world to me can
naught, alas, afford of happiness or ease.”
“And I do still the contrary affirm; and more than that, declare that
you this damsel shall her equal find in beauty and in love.”
In speaking thus Sir Jaufry raised her veil; and Augier looking, his
sweet daughter knew. When he had pressed her often in his arms, a
thousand grateful thanks bestowed on Jaufry, and listed to the tale of
his exploits with Taulat and the giant, he to the castle led the way,
the serfs and vassals following in troops.
Great {133}was the honour they there showed the knight: the brothers
poured the water for his use, the damsel served him with her own fair
hands a roasted peacock nobly bedecked, and Augier fain had kept him
there a month; but Jaufry, frankly owning that his heart allured him to
Montbrun, set out the morrow mom. Escorted by his host and his two sons
he took his way, musing on Brunissende; when, at the hour of noon, he
met her seneschal, just then returned from fair Carlisle, where he had
Taulat seen and Melyan and the five hundred knights from bondage freed.
He still was seeking by his dame's command brave Dovon's son; but
half-despaired success. Scarcely, however, did he learn the truth, that
Melyan's saviour and the weary knight who in the orchard slumbered were
the same, when, urging his horse, ne'er did he stop until Montbrun was
reached, where travel-soiled he came to Brunissende.
“Where is the knight?” asked she before the man could e'en unclose his
lips. “Cometh he on? shall I soon see him here?”
“He follows me, fair lady,” he replied; “but such his deeds, whereof
the saving of our lord from pain and torment is but one, that I do think
'twere well you met {134}the knight, and with a hundred damsels formed
escort.”
The thought pleased Brunissende. She orders gave to deck the roads with
green, to hang rich stuffs and silk, damask and doth-of-gold, upon the
castle-walls; while she herself, mounting her palfrey white, with all
her court and knights and damsels fair, went out to meet Sir Jaufry.
Arrayed most richly in a silken robe with trimmings of pure gold, she
had upon her blondin tresses placed a gorgeous wreath, where peacock's
feathers shone; while in her hand she bore the choicest flowers from her
garden culled. No wonder, then, if Jaufry were surprised to see her come
thus lovely, full of grace, and smiling as the queen of the sweet south.
With courteous words they met, and side by side to Montbrun's lordly
halls together they returned.
[Illustration: 171]
I leave you to surmise the games and joy which at the castle on that day
were seen.
[Illustration: 176]
Jaufry and Brunissende the fair alone nor ate nor oped their lips. The
lady glanced at Jaufry with a sigh, and each sweet glance shot through
his softened eyes and fell into his heart; while Jaufry, on his side, at
every moment blushed, and through the very marrow of his bones by
dart {135}invisible did feel that he was pierced. Musing of love, the
live-long night they watched till rosy morning came. In her chamber the
fair lady, and Jaufry on his gorgeous couch, thought but of the gentle
speeches they would make the morrow mom; and, when once the sun had
risen, they were up and quickly clad; and when mass at length was over,
side by side they sat them down in the great hall of the castle, where
they oped their swelling hearts.
'Twas Brunissende who first the silence broke; for, dazzled by her
beauty, Jaufry lost in gazing on her face the pretty speeches he had
framed o'ernight.
“My lord,” she said, in voice of sweetest tone, “your coming brings
us joy and happiness; no service could be higher than the one you've
rendered us; and bless we good King Arthur in his knight, bless we the
land which claims so brave a man, and--bless we too the lady for whose
sake such noble acts are done.”
“Alas,” sighed Jaufry, at this latter phrase, “no lady cares for me.”
“You speak in jest,” said then fair Brunissende; “your sense and valour
raise you up too high for noble lady not to care for you.”
“_I_ care perhaps for _her_; not she for me.”
“Knows {136}she at least of this your love for her?”
“I cannot say, fair lady, if she guess; but I ne'er told my love.”
“No blame can then at least alight on her: if you ne'er seek where lies
the remedy of that same evil whereof you complain, who is in the wrong?”
“'Tis I, sweet lady, I. Her greatness curbs me, fills me with strange
fears; I cannot ask her love, for ne'er an emperor who trod this earth
but by that love were honoured;--such is the height, above all other
dames, to which she's raised by sovereign grace and wealth.”
“What you now say is folly, gallant knight; emperors and kings ne'er won
in true love's lists a greater prize than brave and courteous man: such
love holds not to riches; noble heart and gentle grace have in his court
more power than lands and titles. How many, folks there are of high
descent whose worth is valued highly at a groat! How many others rolling
in bright gold whose value would not buy a coat of mail! Hide, then,
no longer in your single heart the thought with which it's filled; your
valour and your deeds give you a claim to match upon this earth with the
most fair, most high.”
[Illustration: 180]
Sir {137}Jaufry heaved a sigh, and thus, much moved, replied:
“Lady, forgive, I pray you, the avowal which you, forsooth, are destined
now to hear,--avowal that no torture e'er had drawn, but which is due
to those sweet words of yours. You, then, are she for whom my heart doth
melt; she whom I love and fear and I implore; she who doth hold the
keys of all my joys, my pains, and who can make of me, even at her will,
foolish or wise, a coward or a brave.”
At length had Brunissende the fair attained the sum of her desire; yet
she her joy concealed, and in a tone of playfulness exclaimed:
“Sir Jaufry, you are pleased to banter me; ne'er can I think I have the
power you say.”
“A thousand times more power, you may believe, than I can ever tell.”
“That we shall prove right soon,” she made reply. “The age is spoiled
by wicked usages: true courtesy is lost, and he who warmly vows that he
doth love too oft but utters lies. If you full truly wish to have _my_
love, I must be wed as well as wooed, my lord.”
Sir Jaufry cared not, you may well believe, such offer to refuse. He had
just vowed by Peter and St.
Paul {138}naught upon earth such joy could give to him, when a knight
entered, heating on his shield, to announce the coming of the Lord of
Brunissende.
“To horse, good knights, to horse!” the lady cried; when lords and
damsels, mounting in hot haste, went out to meet their suzerain.
As thus the cavalcade rode gaily off, headed by Jaufry and fair
Brunissende, they saw approach two ladies dressed in black, with eyes
all red and swimming with fresh tears. Jaufry saluted them, and then
inquired for tidings of Lord Melyan; but one of them in under-tone
replied, and with a sigh, that of Lord Melyan nothing did she know; she
thought but of her woes. *
* This is the original of Cervantes' Princess Micomicona:
“Es matar a un gigantazo que lo pide es la alta princesa
Micomicona, reyna del gran reyno Micomicon” (D. Quijote,
parte i. lib. iv. cap. xxix.).
“Tell us,” said Jaufry, “why you shed these tears.”
“Since you do wish to know, my lord, I'll speak the truth. A knight,
misshapen, and ill-bred to boot, wishes to force on me his odious love;
and I in grief have left King Arthur's court, where I have neither found
advice nor aid.”
“You {139}do astonish me,” Sir Jaufry cried; “where was Sir Gawain then?
Ivan the courteous, Coedis that brave knight, Tristrem and Calogrant,
Lancelot du Lac, Eric and Caravis, and bitter Quex,--pray, where were
they?”
“I know it not, by Heaven, good my lord; nor have I any trust but in Sir
Jaufry, that most famous knight, whom now I seek, that he may turn my
fate, and my good right maintain.”
“I will maintain it, certes,” then Jaufry said; “for I am he, the Jaufry
whom you seek; but I must first conclude a matter here which before all
things claims my every thought.”
The mourning lady wept and urged her suit, spite of the angry looks of
Brunissende. Sir Jaufry would not yield, but to Montbrun with Melyan
straight returned. The lady there, giving all cause to think that to her
suzerain she bowed her will, was for long time entreated she her hand
should give to Dovon's son; then they set out for Carlisle's gallant
court, and in their train were twice twelve hundred maids, and full
three thousand knights in brilliant arms.
The three first days of travel naught occurred; but on the fourth,
having pitched their tents in a green {140}mead, balmy with flowers, and
shut in with trees, Jaufry and Melyan suddenly did hear a voice which
help implored in piercing tone. The son of Dovon called for horse and
arms, and would alone go seek this cause of wail. He thus arrived upon
the borders of a pond of some extent and limpid water, where a damsel
stood tearing her hair and robe, and, in her grief, her face.
“My lord,” she cried, as Jaufry hastened up, “have pity, for St. Mary's
sake, upon a dame who in this pond is drowning; she was the best, the
wisest of her sex.”
Jaufry advanced; and there, in truth, he saw, within the waters battling
with death, a dame, who now appeared, now slid beneath the wave. He
soon alighted, and his efforts used to save her with the butt-end of
his lance; but whilst his arm was thus outstretched, and he stood by the
brink, the damsel pushed him with such hearty will, at once he toppled
in, which she perceiving, leapt in after him.
[Illustration: 186]
Drawn downward by the great weight of his arms, Sir Jaufry disappeared
with those two dames. The neighing and the rage of his good horse, which
pawed the ground and madly bit the earth about the {141}pond, announced
this dire mischance to Melyan. He hastened there; and finding Jaufry
drowned, he swooned away. 'Twas then the rest, 'mong whom the news had
flown, galloped frill speed towards that fatal pond. Force was required
to drag Lord Melyan off; for, when restored, he tried to drown himself;
and, for fair Brunissende, she by her seneschal was barely saved, since,
Jaufry lost, she would not him survive.
Joining her cries to dames' and damsels' moans and to the lamentations
of her lords,--
“O Jaufry, Jaufry!” sobbed she wildly out, “frank, generous knight,
all-powerful at arms, who then hath ta'en thy life? Some traitor-blow
hath struck thee by surprise; for living man could ne'er have fairly
won. O Jaufry! lone on earth, what good am I? Worthless is life, which
keeps me far from thee. I pray for death, which comes not at my call.
Where shall I seek this truant senseless death, which will not reunite
me to my love? There 'neath yon water doth his body lie, which calls me,
waits in vain.”
Then suddenly upspringing, lost, and mad with grief, she to the
treach'rous water wildly flew; and 'twas by dint of strength they
dragg'd her back. Then she {142}her tresses tore, her lovely face, till
in a swoon her woe and sense were numbed.
Good Augier had her carried to her tent, where on her couch the damsels
laid her down; then he returned, and with the other knights around the
fatal wave did weep and groan. Such were their tears, their mourning,
and their cries, that the archbishop learnt the fatal news, and to
console that doleful train proceeded to the mead.
With wisdom there he preached, and in his sermon said:
“My friends, the Scripture teacheth us that God is master of all things,
and when He pleaseth can again resume those gifts He hath bestowed. If,
then, Sir Jaufry hath been ta'en by Him, He, as His work, might freely
call him back; and it were sin to find such judgment ill, and felony
towards our Sovereign Lord. They among you who held this brave knight
dear, should now to heaven pray he may be saved; and should at once give
o'er these cries of woe, as vain rebuke towards your Heavenly King.”