"And yet, perchance, he would not die for you, whereas men die for
me daily, and from mere obedience. How is he called?"
"Madame," she replied, "I may not tell you, for all my pride in
him. 'Twill be for my lord to answer you in his good time. But
that he would die for me, if need there were, I have no doubt. For
I have looked into his eyes and read his soul."
So she spake with much spirit, upholding Sieur Rudel; but Joceliande
was sorely grieved for that Solita would not trust her with her
lover's name, and answered bitterly:
"And his soul which you did see was doubtless your own image. And
thus it will be with the next maiden who looks into his eyes. Her
own image will she see, and she will go away calling it his soul,
and not knowing, poor fool, that it has already faded from his
eyes."
At this Solita kept silence, deeming it unnecessary to make reply. It
might be as the princess said with other men and other women, but the
Sieur Rudel had no likeness to other men, and in possessing the Sieur
Rudel's love she was far removed from other women. Therefore did she
keep silence, but Joceliande fancied that she was troubled by the
words which she had spoken, and straightway repented her of them.
"Nay, child," she said, and she laid her hand again upon Solita's
head. "Take not the speech to heart. 'Tis but the plaint of a woman
whose hair is withered from its brightness and who grows peevish in
her loneliness. But open your mind to me, for you have twined about my
heart even as your curls did but now twine and coil about my wrist,
and the more for this pretty vanity of yours. Therefore tell me his
name, that I may advance him."
But once more Solita did fob her off, and the princess would no longer
question her, but turned her wearily to the window.
"All day long," she said, "I listen to soft speeches and honeyed
tongues, and all night long I listen to the breakers booming upon the
sands, and in truth I wot not which sound is the more hollow."
Such was the melancholy and sadness of her voice that the tears
sprang into Solita's eyes and ran down her cheeks for very pity of
Joceliande.
"Think not I fail in love to you, sweet princess," she cried. "But I
may not tell you, though I would be blithe and proud to name him. But
'tis for him to claim me of you, and I must needs wait his time."
But Joceliande would not be comforted, and chiding her roughly, sent
her to her chamber. So Solita departed out of her sight, her heart
heavy with a great pity, though little she understood of Joceliande's
distress. For this she could not know: that at the sight of her white
beauty the Princess Joceliande was ashamed.
And coming into her chamber, Solita beheld the mirror ranged against
the wall, and long she stood before it, being much comforted by the
image which she saw. From that day ever she watched the ladies of the
court, noting jealously if any might be more fair than she whom Sieur
Rudel had chosen; and often of a night when she was troubled by the
aspect of some fair and delicate new-comer, she would rise from her
couch and light a taper, and so gaze at herself until the fear of her
unworthiness diminished. For there were none that could compare with
her in daintiness and fair looks ever came to the castle of the
Princess Joceliande.
But of the Sieur Rudel, though oft she thought, she never spake,
biding his good time, and the princess questioned her in vain. For
she, whose heart hitherto had lain plain to see, like a pebble in a
clear brook of water, had now learnt all the sweet cunning of love's
duplicity.
Thus the time drew on towards the Sieur Rudel's home-coming, and ever
the twain looked out across the sea for the black boats to round the
bluff and take the beach--Joceliande from her balcony, Solita from the
window of her little chamber in the tower; and each night the princess
gave orders to light a beacon on the highest headland that the
wayfarers might steer safely down that red path across the tumbling
waters.
So it fell that one night both ladies beheld two ships swim to the
shore, and each made dolorous moan, seeing how few of the goodly
company that sailed forth had got them home again, and wondering in
sore distress whether Rudel had returned with them or no.
But in a little there came a servant to the princess and told of one
Sir Broyance de Mille-Faits, a messenger from the neighbouring kingdom
of Broye, that implored instant speech with her. And being admitted
before all the Court assembled in the great hall, he fell upon his
knees at the foot of the princess, and, making his obeisance, said--
"Fair Lady Joceliande, I crave a boon, and I pray you of your
gentleness to grant it me."
"But what boon, good Sir Broyance?" replied the princess. "I know
you for a true and loyal gentleman who has ever been welcome at my
castle. Speak, then, your need, and if so be I may, you shall find
me complaisant to your request."
Thereupon, Sir Broyance took heart and said:
"Since our king died, God rest his soul, there has been no peace
or quiet in our kingdom of Broye. 'Tis rent with strife and
factions, so that no man may dwell in it but he must fight from
morn to night, and withal win no rest for the morrow. The king's
three sons contend for the throne, and meanwhile is the country
eaten up. Therefore am I sent by many, and those our chiefest
gentlemen, to ask you to send us Sieur Rudel, that he may quell
these conflicts and rule over us as our king."
So Sir Broyance spake and was silent, and a great murmur and
acclamation rose about the hall for that the Sieur Rudel was held
in such honour and worship even beyond his own country. But for the
Princess Joceliande, she sat with downcast head, and for a while
vouchsafed no reply. For her heart was sore at the thought that Sieur
Rudel should go from her.
"There is much danger in the adventure," she said at length,
doubtfully.
"Were there no danger, madame," he replied, "we should not ask Sieur
Rudel of you to be our leader, and great though the danger be, greater
far is the honour. For we offer him a kingdom."
Then the princess spake again to Sir Broyance:
"It may not be," she said. "Whatever else you crave, that shall you
have, and gladly will I grant it you. But the Sieur Rudel is the
flower of our Court, he stands ever at my right hand, and woe is me if
I let him go, for I am only a woman."
"But, madame, for his knighthood's sake, I pray you assent to our
prayer," said Sir Broyance. "Few enemies have you, but many friends,
whereas we are sore pressed on every side."
But the princess repeated: "I am only a woman," and for a long while
he made his prayer in vain.
At last, however, the princess said:
"For his knighthood's sake thus far will I yield to you: Bide here
within my castle until Sieur Rudel gets him home, and then shall you
make your prayer to him, and by his answer will I be bound."
"That I will well," replied Sir Broyance, bethinking him of the Sieur
Rudel's valour, and how that he had a kingdom to proffer to him.
But the Princess Joceliande said to herself:
"I, too, will offer him a kingdom. My throne shall he share with me;"
and so she entertained Sir Broyance right pleasantly until the Sieur
Rudel should get him back from the foray. Meanwhile she would say
to Solita, "He shall not go to Broye, for in truth I need him;" and
Solita would laugh happily, replying, "It is truth: he will not go to
Broye," and thinking thereto silently, "but it is not the princess who
will keep him, but even I, her poor handmaiden. For I have his promise
never to depart from me." So much confidence had her mirror taught
her, as it ever is with women.
But despite them both did the Sieur Rudel voyage to Broye and rule
over the kingdom as its king, and how that came about ye shall hear.
Now on the fourth day after the coming of Sir Broyance, the Princess
Joceliande was leaning over the baluster of her balcony and gazing
seawards as was her wont. The hours had drawn towards evening, and the
sun stood like a glowing wheel upon the farthest edge of the sea's
grey floor, when she beheld a black speck crawl across its globe, and
then another and another, to the number of thirty. Thereupon, she
knew that the Sieur Rudel had returned, and joyfully she summoned her
tirewomen and bade them coif and robe her as befitted a princess.
A coronet of gold and rubies they set upon her head, and a robe of
purple they hung about her shoulders. With pearls they laced her neck
and her arms, and with pearls they shod her feet, and when she saw the
ships riding at their anchorage, and the Sieur Rudel step forth amid
the shouts of the sailors, then she hied her to the council-chamber
and prepared to give him instant audience. Yet for all her jewels and
rich attire, she trembled like a common wench at the approach of her
lover, and feared that the loud beating of her heart would drown the
sound of his footsteps in the passage.
But the Sieur Rudel came not, and she sent a messenger to inquire why
he tarried, and the messenger brought word and said:
"He is with the maiden Solita in the tower."
Then the princess stumbled as though she were about to fall, and her
women came about her. But she waved them back with her hand, and so
stood shivering for a little. "The night blows cold," she said; "I
would the lamps were lit." And when her servants had lighted the
council-chamber, she sent yet another messenger to Sieur Rudel,
bidding him instantly come to her, and waited in great bitterness of
spirit. For she remembered how that she had promised to grant him the
boon that he should ask, and much she feared that she knew what that
boon was.
Now leave we the Princess Joceliande, and hie before her messenger to
the chamber of Solita. No pearls or purple robes had she to clad her
beauty in, but a simple gown of white wool fastened with a silver
girdle about the waist, and her hair she loosed so that it rippled
down her shoulders and nestled round her ears and face.