the sailors rowed towards the barrel, and partly by cunning and partly
by strength, at the last got it safely upon the deck. The merchants
looked long at the cask. They wondered greatly what it could be, and
wondering, they saw that the head of the barrel was newly closed. They
opened the cask, and found therein a woman at the point of death, for
air had failed her. Her body was gross, her visage swollen, and the
eyes started horribly from her head. When she breathed the fresh air
and felt the wind blow upon her, she sighed a little, so that the
merchants standing by, spoke comfortably to her, but she might not
answer them a word. In the end, heart and speech came again to her.
She spoke to the chapmen and the sailors who pressed about her, and
much she marvelled how she found herself amongst them. When she
perceived that she was with merchants and Christian men she was the
more easy, and fervently she praised Jesus Christ in her heart,
thanking Him for the loving kindness which had kept her from death.
For this lady was altogether contrite in heart, and earnestly desired
to amend her life towards God, repenting the trespass she had done
to others, and fearing the judgment that was rightly her due. The
merchants inquired of the lady whence she came, and she told them the
truth, saying that she was a miserable wretch and a poor sinner, as
they could see for themselves. She related the cruel adventure which
had chanced to her, and prayed them to take pity on a most unhappy
lady, and they answered that mercy they would show. So with meat and
drink her former beauty came to her again.
Now this merchant ship fared so far that she came to the land of the
Paynims, and cast anchor in the port of Aumarie. Galleys of these
Saracens came to know their business, and they answered that they were
traffickers in divers merchandise in many a realm. They showed them
also the safe conduct they carried of princes and mighty lords that
they might pass in safety through their countries to buy and sell
their goods. The merchants got them to land in this port, taking the
lady with them. They sought counsel one of the other to know what it
were best to do with her. One was for selling her as a slave, but his
companion proposed to give her as a sop to the rich Soudan of Aumarie,
that their business should be the less hindered. To this they all
agreed. They arrayed the lady freshly in broidered raiment, and
carried her before the Soudan, who was a lusty young man. He accepted
their gift, receiving the lady with a right glad heart, for she was
passing fair. The Soudan inquired of them as to who she was.
"Sire," answered the merchants, "we know no more than you, but
marvellous was the fashion in which she came to our hands."
The gift was so greatly to the Soudan's mind that he served the
chapmen to the utmost of his power. He loved the lady very tenderly,
and entreated her in all honour. He held and tended her so well, that
her sweet colour came again to her, and her beauty increased beyond
measure. The Soudan sought to know by those who had the gift of
tongues as to the lady's home and race, but these she would not reveal
to any. He was the more thoughtful therefore, because he might see
that she was a dame of birth and lineage. He inquired of her as to
whether she were a Christian woman, promising that if she would deny
her faith, he would take her as his wife, since he was yet unwed. The
lady saw clearly that it were better to be converted by love than
perforce; so she answered that her religion was to do her master's
pleasure. When she had renounced her faith, and rejected the Christian
law, the Soudan made her his dame according to the use and wont of
this country of the Paynim. He held her very dear, cherishing her in
all honour, for his love waxed deeper as the days wore on.
In due time it was with this lady after the manner of women, and she
came to bed of a son. The Soudan rejoiced greatly, being altogether
merry and content. The lady, for her part, lived in fair fellowship
with the folk of her husband's realm. Very courteous was she, and
very serviceable, so that presently she was instructed in the Saracen
tongue. In no long while after the birth of her son she conceived of
a maid, who in the years that befell grew passing sweet and fair, and
richly was she nurtured as became the daughter of so high a prince.
Thus for two years and a half the lady dwelt with the Paynim in much
softness and delight.
Now the story keeps silence as to the lady and the Soudan, her
husband, till later, as you may hear, and returns to the Count of
Ponthieu, the son of the Count, and to my lord Thibault of Dommare,
who were left grieving for the dame who was flung into the sea, as you
have heard, nor knew aught of her tidings, but deemed that she were
rather dead than alive. Now tells the story--and the truth bears
witness to itself and is its own confirmation--that the Count was in
Ponthieu, together with his son, and Messire Thibault. Very heavy was
the Count, for in no wise could he get his daughter from his mind,
and grievously he lamented the wrong that he had done her. Messire
Thibault dared not take to himself another wife, because of the
anguish of his friend. The son of the Count might not wed also;
neither durst he to become knight, though he was come to an age when
such things are greatly to a young man's mind.
On a day the Count considered deeply the sin that he had committed
against his own flesh. He sought the Archbishop of Rheims in
confession, and opened out his grief, telling in his ear the crime
that he had wrought. He determined to seek those holy fields beyond
the sea, and sewed the Cross upon his mantle. When Messire Thibault
knew that his lord, the Count, had taken the Cross, he confessed him,
and did likewise. And when the Count's son was assured of the purpose
of his sire and of Messire Thibault, whom he loved dearly, he took the
Cross with them. Passing heavy was the Count to mark the Sign upon his
son's raiment.
"Fair son, what is this you have done; for now the land remains
without a lord!"
The son answered, and said, "Father, I wear the Sign first and
foremost for the love of God; afterwards for the saving of my soul,
and by reason that I would serve and honour Him to the utmost of my
power, so long as I have life in my body."
The Count put his realm in ward full wisely. He used diligence in
making all things ready, and bade farewell to his friends. Messire
Thibault and the son of the Count ordered their business, and the
three set forth together, with a fair company. They came to that holy
land beyond the sea, safe of person and of gear. There they made
devout pilgrimage to every place where they were persuaded it was meet
to go, and God might be served. When the Count had done all that
he was able, he deemed that there was yet one thing to do. He gave
himself and his fellowship to the service of the Temple for one year;
and at the end of this term he purposed to seek his country and his
home. He sent to Acre, and made ready a ship against his voyage. He
took his leave of the Knights Templar, and other lords of that land,
and greatly they praised him for the worship that he had brought them.
When the Count and his company were come to Acre they entered in the
ship, and departed from the haven with a fair wind. But little was
their solace. For when they drew to the open sea a strong and horrible
tempest sprang suddenly upon them, so that the sailors knew not where
they went, and feared each hour that all would be drowned. So piteous
was their plight that, with ropes, they bound themselves one to
another, the son to the father, the uncle to the nephew, according as
they stood. The Count, his son, and Messire Thibault for their part,
fastened themselves together, so that the same end should chance to
all. In no long time after this was done they saw land, and inquired
of the shipmen whither they were come. The mariners answered that this
realm belonged to the Paynim, and was called the Land of Aumarie. They
asked of the Count,
"Sire, what is your will that we do? If we seek the shore, doubtless
we shall be made captives, and fall into the hands of the Saracen."
The Count made answer, "Not my will, but the will of Jesus Christ be
done. Let the ship go as He thinks best. We will commit our bodies and
our lives to His good keeping, for a fouler and an uglier death we
cannot die, than to perish in this sea."
They drove with the wind along the coast of Aumarie, and the galleys
and warships of the Saracens put out to meet them. Be assured that
this was no fair meeting, for the Paynims took them and led them
before the Soudan, who was lord of that realm. There they gave him
the goods and the bodies of these Christians as a gift. The Soudan
sundered this fair fellowship, setting them in many places and in
divers prisons; but since the Count, his son, and Messire Thibault
were so securely bound together, he commanded that they should be cast
into a dungeon by themselves, and fed upon the bread of affliction and
the water of affliction. So it was done, even as he commanded. In this
prison they lay for a space, till such time as the Count's son fell
sick. His sickness was so grievous that the Count and Messire Thibault
feared greatly that this sorrow was to death.
Now it came to pass that the Soudan held high Court because of the day
of his birth, for such was the custom of the Saracens. After they had
well eaten, the Saracens stood before the Soudan, and said,
"Sire, we require of you our right."
He inquired of what right they were speaking, and they answered,
"Sire, a Christian captive to set as a mark for our arrows."
When the Soudan heard this he gave no thought to such a trifle, but
made reply,
"Get you to the prison, and take out that captive who has the least of
life in him."
The Paynim hastened to the dungeon, and brought forth the Count,
bearded, unkempt and foredone. The Soudan marked his melancholy case,
so he said to them, "This man has not long to live; take him hence,
and do your will on him."
The wife of the Soudan, of whom you have heard, the daughter of this
very Count, was in the hall, when they brought forth her father to
slay him. Immediately that her eyes fell upon him the blood in her
veins turned to water; not so much that she knew him as her sire, but
rather that Nature tugged at her heart strings. Then spake the dame to
the Soudan, "Husband, I, too, am French, and would gladly speak with
this poor wretch ere he die, if so I may."
"Wife," answered the Soudan, "truly, yes; it pleases me well."
The lady came to the Count. She took him apart, and bidding the
Saracens fall back, she inquired of him whence he was.
"Lady, I am from the kingdom of France, of a county that men call
Ponthieu."
When the lady heard this her bowels were moved. Earnestly she demanded
his name and race.
"Of a truth, lady, I have long forgotten my father's house, for I have
suffered such pain and anguish since I departed, that I would rather
die than live. But this you may know, that I--even the man who speaks
to you--was once the Count of Ponthieu."
The lady hearkened to this, but yet she made no sign. She went from
the Count, and coming to the Soudan, said,
"Husband, give me this captive as a gift, if such be your pleasure. He
knows chess and draughts and many fair tales to bring solace to the
hearer. He shall play before you, and we will make our pastime of his
skill."
"Wife," answered the Soudan, "I grant him to you very willingly; do
with him as you wish."
The lady took the captive, and bestowed him in her chamber. The
gaolers sought another in his stead, and brought forth my lord
Thibault, the husband to the dame. He came out in tatters, for he was
clothed rather in his long hair and great beard, than in raiment. His
body was lean and bony, and he seemed as one who had endured pain and
sorrow enough, and to spare. When the lady saw him she said to the
Soudan,
"Husband, with this one also would I gladly speak, if so I may."
"Wife," answered the Soudan, "it pleases me well."
The lady came to my lord Thibault, and inquired of him whence he was.
"Lady, I am of the realm of that ancient gentleman who was taken from
prison before me. I had his daughter to wife, and am his knight."
The lady knew well her lord, so she returned to the Soudan, and said
to him, "Husband, great kindness will you show me, if you give me this
captive also."
"Wife," said the Soudan, "I grant him to you very willingly."
She thanked him sweetly, and bestowed the gift in her chamber, with
the other.
The archers hastened together, and drawing before the Soudan said,
"Sire, you do us wrong, for the day is far spent."
They went straight to the prison, and brought forth the son of the
Count, shagged and filthy, as one who had not known of water for many
a day. He was a young man, so young that his beard had not come on
him, but for all his youth he was so thin and sick and weak, that
he scarce could stand upon his feet. When the lady saw him she had
compassion upon him. She came to him asking whose son he was and of
his home, and he replied that he was son to that gentleman, who was
first brought out of the dungeon. She knew well that this was her
brother, but she made herself strange unto him.
"Husband," said she to the Soudan, "verily you will shew kindness to
your wife beyond measure if you grant me this captive. He knows chess
and draughts and other delights passing fair to see and hear."
And the Soudan made answer, "Wife, by our holy law if they were a
hundred I would give them all to you gladly."
The lady thanked him tenderly, and bestowed the captive swiftly in
her chamber. The Saracens went again to the prison and fetched out
another, but the lady left him to his fate, when she looked upon his
face. So he won a martyr's crown, and our Lord Jesus Christ received
his soul. As for the dame, she hid herself from the sight, for it gave
her little joy, this slaying of the Christian by the Paynims.
The lady came to her chamber, and at her coming the captives would
have got them to their feet, but she made signs that they should
remain seated. Drawing close she made gestures of friendship. The
Count, who was very shrewd, asked at this, "Lady, when will they slay
us?"
She answered that their time had not yet come.
"Lady," said he, "the sorer grief is ours, for we are so anhungered,
that for a little our souls would leave our bodies."
The lady went out, and bade meat to be made ready. This she carried
in, giving to each a little, and to each a little drink. When they had
eaten, they had yet greater hunger than before. In this manner she fed
them, little by little, ten times a day, for she deemed that should
they eat to their desire, they would die of repletion. For this reason
she caused them to break their fast temperately. Thus the good lady
dealt with them for the first seven days, and at nights, by her grace,
they lay softly at their ease. She did away with their rags, and clad
them in seemly apparel. When the week was done she set before them
meat and drink to their heart's desire, so that their strength
returned to them again. They had chess and draughts, and played these
games to their great content. The Soudan was often with them. He
watched the play, and took pleasure in their gladness. But the lady
refrained, so that none might conceive, either by speech or fashion,
that he had known her before.
Now a short while after this matter of the captives, the story tells
that the Soudan had business enough of his own, for a mighty Sultan
laid waste his realm, and sought to do him much mischief. To avenge
his wrong the Soudan commanded his vassals from every place, and
assembled a great host. When the lady knew this, she entered the
chamber where the captives lay, and sitting amidst them lifted her
hand, and said, "Sirs, you have told me somewhat of your business; now
will I be assured whether you are true men or not. You told me that in
your own land you were once the Count of Ponthieu, that this man was
wedded to your daughter, and that this other was your son. Know that I
am a Saracen, having the science of astrology; so I tell you plainly
that you were never so near to a shameful death, as you are now, if
you hide from me the truth. What chanced to your daughter, the wife of
this knight?"
"Lady," replied the Count, "I deem her to be dead."
"How came she to her death?"
"Certes, lady," said the Count, "because for once she received her
deserts."
"Tell me of these deservings," said the dame.
Then the Count began to tell, with tears, of how she was wedded, but
was yet a barren wife; how the good knight vowed pilgrimage to my lord
St. James in Galicia, and how the lady prayed that she might go with
him, which prayer he granted willingly. He told how they went their
way with joy, till alone, in the deep wood, they met with sturdy
felons who set upon them. The good knight might do nothing against so
many, for he was a naked man; but despite of all, he slew three, and
five were left, who killed his palfrey, and spoiling him to the very
shirt, bound him hands and feet, and flung him into a thorn bush. They
spoiled the lady also and stole her palfrey from her. When they looked
upon her, and saw that she was fair, each would have taken her.
Afterwards they accorded that she should be to all, and having
had their will in her despite, they departed and left her weeping
bitterly. This the good knight saw, so he besought her courteously to
unloose his hands, that they might get them from the wood. But the
lady marked a sword belonging to one of these felons that were slain.
She handselled it, and hastening where he lay, cried in furious
fashion, "You are unbound already." Then she raised the naked sword,
and struck at his body. But by the loving kindness of God, and the
vigour of the knight, she but sundered the bonds that bound him, so
that he sprang forth, and wounded as he was, cried, "Dame, by the
grace of God it is not to-day that you shall kill me with the sword."
At this word that fair lady, the wife of the Soudan, spoke suddenly,
and said,
"Ah, sir, you have told the tale honestly, and very clear it is why
she would have slain him."
"For what reason, lady?"
"Certes," answered she, "for reason of the great shame which had
befallen her."
When Messire Thibault heard this he wept right tenderly, and said,
"Alas, what part had she in this wickedness! May God keep shut the
doors of my prison if I had shown her the sourer face therefore,
seeing that her will was not in the deed."
"Sir," said the lady, "she feared your reproach. But tell me which is
the more likely, that she be alive or dead?"
"Lady," said Thibault, "we know not what to think."
"Well I know," cried the Count, "of the great anguish we have
suffered, by reason of the sin I sinned against her."
"If it pleased God that she were yet living," inquired the lady, "and
tidings were brought which you could not doubt, what would you have to
say?"
"Lady," said the Count, "I should be happier than if I were taken from
this prison, or were granted more wealth than ever I have had in my
life."
"Lady," said Messire Thibault, "so God give me no joy of my heart's
dearest wish, if I had not more solace than if men crowned me King of
France."
"Certes, lady," said the dansellon, who was her brother, "none could
give or promise me aught so sweet, as the life of that sister, who was
so fair and good."
When the lady hearkened to these words her heart yearned with
tenderness. She praised God, rendering Him thanks, and said to them,
"Be sure that you speak with unfeigned lips."
And they answered and said that they spoke with unfeigned lips. Then
the lady began to weep with happy tears, and said to them, "Sir, now
may you truly say that you are my father, for I am that daughter on
whom you wrought such bitter justice. And you, Messire Thibault, are
my lord and husband; and you, sir dansellon, are my brother."
Then she rehearsed to them in what manner she was found of the
chapmen, and how they bestowed her as a gift on the Soudan. They were
very glad, and rejoiced mightily, humbling themselves before her, but
she forbade them to show their mirth, saying, "I am a Saracen, and
have renounced the faith; otherwise I should not be here, but were
dead already. Therefore I pray and beseech you as you love your lives
and would prolong your days, whatever you may see or hear, not to show
me any affection, but keep yourselves strange to me, and leave me to
unravel the coil. Now I will tell why I have revealed myself to you.
My husband, the Soudan, rides presently to battle. I know well,
Messire Thibault, that you are a hardy knight, and I will pray the
Soudan to take you with him. If ever you were brave, now is the time
to make it plain. See to it that you do him such service that he have
no grievance against you."
The lady departed forthwith, and coming before the Soudan, said,
"Husband, one of my captives desires greatly to go with you, if such
be your pleasure."
"Wife," answered he, "I dare not put myself in his hand, for fear that
he may do me a mischief."
"Husband, he will not dare to be false, since I hold his companions as
hostages."
"Wife," said he, "I will take him with me, because of your counsel,
and I will deliver him a good horse and harness, and all that warrior
may require."
The lady returned straightway to the chamber. She said to Messire
Thibault, "I have persuaded the Soudan to bring you to the battle. Act
therefore manfully."
At this her brother knelt at her knee, praying her to plead with the
Soudan that he might go also.
"That I may not do," said she, "or the thing will be too clear."
The Soudan ordered his business, and went forth, Messire Thibault
being with him, and came upon the enemy. According to his word, the
Soudan had given to the knight both horse and harness. By the will of
Jesus Christ, who faileth never such as have faith and affiance in
Him, Messire Thibault did such things in arms that in a short space
the enemies of the Soudan were put under his feet. The Soudan rejoiced
greatly at his knight's deeds and his victory, and returned bringing
many captives with him. He went straight to the dame, and said, "Wife,
by my law I have naught but good to tell of your prisoner, for he has
done me faithful service. So he deny his faith, and receive our holy
religion, I will grant him broad lands, and find him a rich heiress in
marriage."
"Husband, I know not, but I doubt if he will do this thing."
No more was spoken of the matter; but the lady set her house in order,
as best she was able, and coming to her captives said, "Sirs, go
warily, so that the Saracens see nothing of what is in our mind; for,
please God, we shall yet win to France and the county of Ponthieu."
On a day the lady came before the Soudan. She went in torment, and
lamented very grievously.
"Husband, it is with me as it was before. Well I know it, for I have
fallen into sore sickness, and my food has no relish in my mouth, no,
not since you went to the battle."
"Wife, I am right glad to hear that you are with child, although your
infirmity is very grievous unto me. Consider and tell me those things
that you deem will be to your healing, and I will seek and procure
them whatever the cost."
When the lady heard this, her heart beat lightly in her breast. She
showed no semblance of joy, save this only, that she said, "Husband,
my old captive tells me that unless I breathe for awhile such air as
that of my native land, and that quickly, I am but dead, for in nowise
have I long to live."
"Wife," said the Soudan, "your death shall not be on my conscience.
Consider and show me where you would go, and there I will cause you to
be taken."
"Husband, it is all one to me, so I be out of this city."
Then the Soudan made ready a ship, both fair and strong, and garnished
her plenteously with wines and meats.
"Husband," said the lady to the Soudan, "I will take of my captives
the aged and the young, that they may play chess and draughts at my
bidding, and I will carry with me my son for my delight."
"Wife," answered he, "your will is my pleasure. But what shall be done
with the third captive?"
"Husband, deal with him after your desire."
"Wife, I desire that you take him on the ship; for he is a brave man,
and will keep you well, both on land and sea, if you have need of his
sword."
The lady took leave of the Soudan, bidding him farewell, and urgently
he prayed her to return so soon as she was healed of her sickness. The
stores being put upon the ship and all things made ready, they entered
therein and set sail from the haven. With a fair wind they went very
swiftly, so that the shipmen sought the lady, saying, "Madam, this
wind is driving the boat to Brindisi. Is it your pleasure to take
refuge there, or to go elsewhere?"