"Love," he said, kissing her, "it has been a weary waste of days and
nights, and yet more weary for thee than for me. For stern work was
there ever to my hand--ay, and well-nigh more than I could do; but for
thee nought but to wait."
"Yet, my dear lord," she replied, "the princess did give me this
mirror, wherein I could see myself from top to toe, and a great
comfort has it been to me."
So she spake, and the messenger from the princess brake in upon them,
bidding the Sieur Rudel hasten to the council-chamber, for that the
Princess Joceliande waited this long while for his coming.
"Now will I ask for the fulfilment of her promise," said Rudel to
Solita, "and to-night, sweet, I will claim thee before the whole
Court." With that he got him from the chamber and, following the
messenger, came to where the princess awaited him.
"Madame," he said, "good tidings! By God's grace we have won the
victory over your enemies. Never again will they buzz like wasps about
your coasts, but from this day forth they will pay you yearly truage."
"Sir," she replied, rebuking him shrewdly, "indeed you bring me good
tidings, but you bring them over-late. For here have I tarried for you
this long while, and it beseems neither you nor me."
"Madame," he answered, "I pray you acquit me of the fault and lay the
blame on Love. For when sweet Cupid thrones a second queen in one's
heart beside the first, what wonder that a man forgets his duty? And
now I would that of your gentleness you would grant me your maiden
Solita for wife."
"That I may not," returned Joceliande, stricken to the soul at that
image of a second queen. "A nameless child, and my handmaiden! Sieur
Rudel, it befits a man to look above him for a wife."
"And that, madame," he answered, "in very truth I do. Moreover, though
no man knows Solita's parentage and place, yet must she be of gentle
nurture, else had there been no silk sail to float her hitherwards;
and so much it liketh you to grant my boon, for God's love, I pray
you, hold your promise."
Thereupon was the princess sore distressed for that she had given her
promise. Howbeit she said: "Since it is so, and since my maiden Solita
is the boon you crave, I give her to you;" and so dismissed the Sieur
Rudel from her presence, and getting her back to her chamber, made
moan out of all measure.
"Lord Jesu," she cried, "of all my kingdom and barony, but one thing
did I hunger for and covet, and that one thing this child, whom of my
kindness I loved and fostered, hath traitorously robbed me of! Why did
I take her from the sea?"
So she wept for a great while, until she bethought her of a remedy.
Then she wiped her tears and gave order that Sir Broyance should come
to her. To him she said: "To-night at the high feast you shall make
your prayer to the Lord Rudel, and I myself will join with you, so
that he shall become your leader and rule over you as king."
So she spake, thinking that when the Sieur Rudel had departed, she
would privily put Solita to death--openly she dared not do it, for the
great love the nobles bore towards Rudel--and when Solita was dead,
then would she send again for Rudel and share her siege with him. Sir
Broyance, as ye may believe, was right glad at her words, and made him
ready for the feast. Hither, when the company was assembled, came the
Sieur Rudel, clad in a green tunic edged with fur of a white fox, and
a chain set with stones of great virtue about his neck. His hose were
green and of the finest silk, and on his feet he wore shoes of white
doeskin, and the latchets were of gold. So he came into the hall, and
seeing him thus gaily attired with all his harness off, much did all
marvel at his knightly prowess. For in truth he looked more like some
tender minstrel than a gallant warrior. Then up rose Sir Broyance and
said;
"From the kingdom of Broye the nobles send greeting to the Sieur
Rudel, and a message."
And with that he set forth his errand and request; but the Sieur Rudel
laughed and answered:
"Sir Broyance, great honour you do me, and so, I pray, tell your
countrymen of Broye. But never more will I draw sword or feuter spear,
for this day hath the Princess Joceliande granted me her maiden Solita
for wife, and by her side I will bide till death."
Thereupon rose a great murmur of astonishment within the hall, the men
lamenting that the Sieur Rudel would lead them no more to battle, and
the women marvelling to each other that he should choose so mean a
thing as Solita for wife. But Sir Broyance said never a word, but got
him from the table and out of the hall, so that the company marvelled
yet more for that he had not sought to persuade the Sieur Rudel. Then
said the Princess Joceliande, and greatly was she angered both against
Solita and Rudel:
"Fie, my lord! shame on you; you forget your knighthood!"
And he replied, "My knighthood, your highness, had but one use, and
that to win my sweet Solita."
Wherefore was Joceliande's heart yet hotter against the twain, and she
cried aloud:
"Nay, but it is on us that the shame of your cowardice will fall. Even
now Sir Broyance left our hall in anger and scorn. It may not be that
our chiefest noble shall so disgrace us."
But Sieur Rudel laughed lightly, and answered her:
"Madame, full oft have I jeopardised my life in your good cause, and I
fear no charge of cowardice more than I fear thistle-down."
His words did but increase the fury of the princess, and she brake out
in most bitter speech:
"Nay, but it is a kitchen knave we have been honouring unawares, and
bidding sit with us at table!"
And straightway she called to her servants and bade them fetch the
warden of the castle with the fetters. But the Sieur Rudel laughed
again, and said:
"Thus it will be impossible that I leave my dear Solita and voyage
perilously to Broye."
Nor any effort or resistance did he make, but lightly suffered them
to fetter him, the while the princess most foully mis-said him. With
fetters they prisoned his feet, and manacles they straitly fastened
about his wrists, and they bound him to a pillar in the hall by a
chain about his middle.
"There shall you bide," she said, "in shameful bonds until you make
promise to voyage forth to Broye. For surely there is nothing so vile
in all this world as a craven gentleman."
With that she turned her again to the feast, though little heart she
had thereto. But the Sieur Rudel was well content; for not for all
the honour in Christendom would he break his word to his dear Solita.
Howbeit, the nobles were ever urgent that the princess should set him
free, pleading the worshipful deeds he had accomplished in her cause.
But to none of them would she hearken, and the fair gentle ladies of
the Court greatly applauded her for her persistence--and especially
those who had erstwhile dropped their gauntlets that Rudel might bend
and pick them up. And many pleasant jests they passed upon the Sieur
Rudel, bidding him dance with them, since he was loth to fight. But
he paid no heed to them, nor could they provoke him by any number of
taunts. Whereupon, being angered at his silence, they were fain to
send to Solita and make their sport with her.
But that Joceliande would not suffer, and, rising, she went to
Solita's chamber and entreated her most kindly, telling her that for
love of her the Sieur Rudel would not adventure himself at Broye. Not
a word did she say of how she had mistreated him, and Solita answered
her jocundly for that her lord had held his pledge with her. But when
the castle was still, the princess took Solita by the hand and led her
down the steps to where Rudel stood against the pillar in the dark
hall.
"For thy sake, sweet Solita," she said, "is he bound. For thy sake!"
and she made her feel the manacles upon his hands. And when Solita had
so felt his bonds, she wept, and made the greatest sorrow that ever
man heard.
"Alas!" she cried, "that my dear lord should suffer in such straits.
In God's mercy, madame, I pray you let him go! Loyal service hath he
done for you, such as no other in the kingdom."
"Loyal service, I trow," replied the princess. "He hath brought such
shame upon my Court that for ever am I dishonoured. It may not be that
I let him go, without you give him back his word and bid him forth to
Broye."
"And that will I never do," replied Solita, "for all your cruelty."
So the princess turned her away and gat her from the hall, but Solita
remained with her lord, making moan and easing his fetters with her
hands as best she might. Hence it fell out that she who should have
comforted must needs be comforted herself, and that the Sieur Rudel
did right willingly.
The like, he would say to me, hath often happened to him since, and
when he was harassed with sore distress he must needs turn him about
to stop a woman's tears; for which he thanked God most heartily, and
prayed that so it might ever be, since thus he clean forgot his own
sad plight. Whence, meseems, may men understand how noble a gentleman
was my good lord the Sieur Rudel.
Now when the night was well spent and drawing on to dawn, Solita, for
very weariness, fell asleep at the pillar's foot, and Rudel began to
take counsel with himself if, by any manner of means, he might outwit
the Princess Joceliande. For this he saw, that she would not have him
wed her handmaiden, and for that cause, and for no cowardice of his,
had so cruelly entreated him. And when he had pondered a little with
himself, he bent and touched Solita with his hands, and called to her
in a low voice.
"Solita," he said, "it is in Joceliande's heart to keep us twain
each from other. Rise, therefore, and get thee to the good abbot who
baptised thee. Ever hath he stood my friend, and for friendship's sake
this thing he will do. Bring him hither into the hall, that he may
marry us even this night, and when the morning comes I will tell the
princess of our marriage; and so will she know that her cruelty is of
small avail, and release me unto thee."
Thereupon Solita rose right joyously.
"Surely, my dear lord," said she, "no man can match thee, neither in
craft nor prowess," and she hurried through the dark passages towards
the lodging of the abbot. Hard by this lodging was the chapel of the
castle, and when she came thereto the windows were ablaze with light,
and Solita clapped her ear to the door. But no sound did she hear, no,
not so much as the stirring of a mouse, and bethinking her that the
good abbot might be holding silent vigil, she gently pressed upon the
door, so that it opened for the space of an inch; and when she looked
into the chapel, she beheld the Princess Joceliande stretched upon
the steps before the altar. Her coronet had fallen from her head and
rolled across the stones, and she lay like one that had fallen asleep
in the counting of her beads. Greatly did Solita marvel at the sight,
but no word she said lest she should wake the princess; and in a
little, becoming afeard of the silence and of the shadows which the
flickering candles set racing on the wall, she shut the door quickly
and stole on tiptoe to the abbot. Long she entreated him or ever she
prevailed, for the holy man was timorous, and feared the wrath of the
princess. But at the last, for the Sieur Rudel's sake, he consented,
and married them privily in the hall as the grey dawn was breaking
across the sea.
Now, in the morning, the princess bid Solita be brought to her, and
when they were alone, gently and cunningly she spake:
"Child," she said, "I doubt not thy heart is hot against me for that I
will not enlarge the Sieur Rudel. Alas! fain were I to do this thing,
but for the honour of my Court I may not. Bound are we not by our
wills but by our necessities--and thus it is with all women. Men may
ride forth and shape their lives with their good swords; but for us,
we must needs bide where we were born, and order such things as fall
to us, as best we can. Therefore, child, take my word to heart: the
Sieur Rudel loves thee, and thou wouldst keep his love. Let my age
point to thee the way! What if I release him? No longer can he stay
with us, holding high honour and dignity, since he hath turned him
from his knightlihood and avoided this great adventure, but forth
with you must he fare. And all day long will he sit with you in your
chamber, idle as a woman, and ever his thoughts will go back to the
times of his nobility. The clash of steel will grow louder in
his ears; he will list again to the praises of minstrels in the
banquet-hall, and when men speak to him of great achievements wrought
by other hands, then thou wilt see the life die out of his eyes, and
his heart will become cold as stone, and thou wilt lose his love. A
great thing will it be for thee if he come not to hate thee in the
end. But if, of thy own free will, thou send him from thee, then shalt
thou ever keep his love. Thy image will ride before his eyes in the
van of battles; for very lack of thee he will move from endeavour to
endeavour; and so thy life will be enshrined in his most noble deeds."
At these words, with such cunning gentleness were they spoken, Solita
was sore troubled.
"I cannot send him from me," she cried, "for never did woman so love
her lord--no, not ever in the world!"
"Then prove thy love," said Joceliande again. "A kingdom is given into
his hand, and he will not take it because of thee. It is a hard thing,
I trow right well. But the cross becomes a crown when a woman lifts
it. Think! A kingdom! And never yet was kingdom established but the
stones of its walls were mortised with the blood of women's hearts."
So she pleaded, hiding her own thoughts, until Solita answered her,
and said:
"God help me, but he shall go to Broye!"
Much ado had the Princess Joceliande to hide her joy for the success
of her device; but Solita, poor lass! had neither eyes nor thoughts
for her. Forthwith she rose to her feet, and quickly gat her to the
hall, lest her courage should fail, before that she had accomplished
her resolve. But when she came near to the Sieur Rudel, blithely he
smiled at her and called "Solita, my wife." It seemed to her that
words so sweet had never as yet been spoken since the world began, and
all her strength ebbed from her, and she stood like one that is dumb,
gazing piteously at her husband. Again Rudel called to her, but no
answer could she make, and she turned and fled sobbing to the chamber
of the princess.
"I could not speak," she said; "my lips were locked, and Rudel holds
the key."
But the princess spoke gently and craftily, bidding her take heart,
for that she herself would go with her and second her words; and
taking Solita by the hand, she led her again to the hall.
This time Solita made haste to speak first. "Rudel," she said, "no
honour can I bring to you, but only foul disgrace, and that is no fit
gift from one who loves you. Therefore, from this hour I hold you quit
of your promise and pray you to undertake this mission and set forth
for Broye."
But the Sieur Rudel would hearken to nothing of what she said.
"No foul disgrace can come to me," he cried, "but only if I prove
false to you and lose your love. My promise I will keep, and all the
more for that I see the Princess Joceliande hath set you on to this."
But Solita protested that it was not so, and that of her own will and
desire she released him, for the longing to sacrifice herself for her
dear lord's sake grew upon her as she thought upon it. Yet he would
not consent.
"My word I passed to you when you were a maid, and shall I not keep it
now that you are a wife?" he cried.
"Wife?" cried the princess, "you are his wife?" And she roughly
gripped Solita's wrist so that the girl could not withhold a cry.
"In truth, madame," replied the Sieur Rudel, "even last night, in this
hall, Solita and I were married by the good abbot, and therefore I
will not leave her while she lives."
Still Joceliande would not believe it, bethinking her that the Sieur
Rudel had hit upon the pretence as a device for his enlargement; but
Solita showed to her the ring which the abbot had taken from the
finger of her lord and placed upon hers, and then the princess knew
that of a surety they were married, and her hatred for Solita burned
in her blood like fire.
But no sign she gave of what she felt, but rather spoke with greater
softness to them both, bidding them look forward beyond the first
delights of love, and behold how all their years to come were the
price they needs must pay.
Now, while they were yet debating each with other, came Sir Broyance
into the hall, and straightway the princess called to him and begged
him to add his prayers to Solita's. But he answered:
"That, madame, I will not do, for, indeed, the esteem I have for the
Sieur Rudel is much increased, and I hold it no cowardice that he
should refuse a kingdom for his wife's sake, but the sweetest bravery.
And therefore it was that I broke off my plea last night and sought
not to persuade him."
At that Rudel was greatly rejoiced, and said:
"Dost hear him, Solita? Even he who most has need of me acquits me of
disgrace. Truly I will never leave thee while I live."
But the princess turned sharply to Sir Broyance. "Sir, have you
changed your tune?" she said; "for never was a man so urgent as you
with me for the Sieur Rudel's help."
"Alas! madame," he replied, "I knew not then that he was plighted to
the maiden Solita, or never would I have borne this message. For
this I surely know, that all my days are waste and barren because I
suffered my mistress to send me from her after a will-of-the-wisp
honour, even as Solita would send her lord."
Thereupon Solita brake in upon him:
"But, my lord, you have won great renown, and far and wide is your
prowess known and sung."
"That avails me nothing," he replied, "my life rings hollow like an
empty cup, and so are two lives wasted."
"Nay, my lord, neither life is wasted. For much have you done for
others, though maybe little for yourself, while for her you loved the
noise of your achievements must have been enough."
"Of that I cannot tell," he answered. "But this I know: she drags a
pale life out behind convent walls. Often have I passed the gate with
my warriors, but never could I hold speech with her."
"She will have seen your banners glancing in the sun," said Solita,
"and so will she know her sacrifice was good." Thereupon she turned
her again to her husband. "For my sake, dear Rudel, I pray you go to
Broye."
But still he persisted, saying he would not depart from her till
death, until at last she ceased from her importunities, and went sadly
to her chamber. Then she unbound her hair and stood gazing at her
likeness in the mirror.
"O cursed beauty," she cried, "wherein I took vain pride for my sweet
lord's sake--truly art thou my ruin and snare!" And while she thus
made moan, the princess came softly into her chamber.
"He will not leave me, madame," she sobbed. Joceliande came over to
her and gently laid her hand upon her head and whispered in her ear,
"Not while you live!"
For awhile Solita sat silent.
"Ay, madame," she said at length, "even as I came alone to these
coasts, so will I go from them;" and slowly she drew from its sheath a
little knife which she carried at her girdle. She tried the point upon
her finger, so that the blood sprang from the prick and dropped on her
white gown. At the sight she gave a cry and dropped the knife, and "I
cannot do it" she said, "I have not the courage. But you, madame! Ever
have you been kind to me, and therefore show me this last kindness."
"I will well," said the princess; and she made Solita to sit upon a
couch, and with two bands of her golden hair she tied her hands fast
behind her, and so laid her upon her back on the couch. And when she
had so laid her she said:
"But for all that you die, he shall not go to Broye, but here shall he
bide, and share my throne with me."
Thereupon did Solita perceive all the treachery of Princess
Joceliande, and vainly she struggled to free her hands and to cry out
for help. But Joceliande clapped her palm upon Solita's mouth, and
drawing a gold pin from her own hair, she drove it straight into her
heart, until nothing but the little knob could be seen. So Solita
died, and quickly the princess wiped the blood from her breast, and
unbound her hands and arranged her limbs as though she slept. Then she
returned to the hall, and, summoning the warden, bade him loose the
Sieur Rudel.
"It shall be even as you wish," she said to him. Wise and prudent had
she been, had she ended with that; but her malice was not yet sated,
and so she suffered it to lead her to her ruin. For she stretched out
her hand to him and said, "I myself will take you to your wife." And
greatly marvelling, the Sieur Rudel took her hand and followed.
Now when they were come to Solita's chamber, the princess entered
first, and turned her again to my Lord Rudel and laid her finger to
her lips, saying, "Hush!" Therefore he came in after her on tiptoe and
stood a little way from the foot of the couch, fearing lest he might
wake his wife.
"Is she not still?" asked Joceliande in a whisper. "Is she not still
and white?"
"Still and white as a folded lily," he replied, "and like a folded
lily, too, in her white flesh there sleeps a heart of gold." Therewith
he crept softly to the couch and bent above her, and in an instant he
perceived that her bosom did not rise and fall. He gazed swiftly at
the princess; she was watching him, and their glances met. He dropped
upon his knees by the couch and felt about Solita's heart that he
might know whether it beat or not, and his fingers touched the knob of
Joceliande's bodkin. Gently he drew the gown from Solita's bosom, and
beheld how that she had been slain. Then did he weep, believing that
in truth she had killed herself, but the princess must needs touch him
upon the shoulder.
"My lord," she said, "why weep for the handmaid when the princess
lives?"
Then the Sieur Rudel rose straightway to his feet and said:
"This is thy doing!" For a little Joceliande denied it, saying that of
her own will and desire Solita had perished. But Rudel looked her ever
sternly in the face, and again he said, "This is thy doing!" and at
that Joceliande could gainsay him no more. But she dropped upon the
floor, and kissed his feet, and cried:
"It was for love of thee, Rudel. Look, my kingdom is large and of much
wealth, yet of no worth is it to me, but only if it bring thee service
and great honour. A princess am I, yet no joy do I have of my degree,
but only if thou share my siege with me."
Then Rudel broke out upon her, thrusting her from him with his hand
and spurning her with his foot as she crouched upon the floor.
"No princess art thou, but a changeling. For surely princess never did
such foul wrong and crime;" and even as he spake, many of the nobles
burst into the chamber, for they had heard the outcry below and
marvelled what it might mean. And when Rudel beheld them crowding
the doorway, "Come in, my lords," said he, "so that ye may know what
manner of woman ye serve and worship. There lies my dear wife, Solita,
murdered by this vile princess, and for love of me she saith, for love
of me!" And again he turned him to Joceliande. "Now all the reverence
I held thee in is turned to hatred, God be thanked; such is the
guerdon of thy love for me."
Joceliande, when she heard his injuries, knew indeed that her love was
unavailing, and that by no means might she win him to share her siege
with her. Therefore her love changed to a bitter fury, and standing
up forthwith she bade the nobles take their swords and smite off the
Sieur Rudel's head. But no one so much as moved a hand towards his
hilt. Then spake Rudel again:
"O vile and treacherous," he cried, "who will obey thee?" and his eyes
fell upon Solita where she lay in her white beauty upon the golden
pillow of her hair. Thereupon he dropped again upon his knees by the
couch, and took her within his arms, kissing her lips and her eyes,
and bidding her wake; this with many tears. But seeing she would not,
but was dead in very truth, he got him to his feet and turned to where
the princess stood like stone in the middle of the chamber. "Now for
thy sin," he cried, "a shameful death shalt thou die and a painful,
and may the devil have thy soul!"
He bade the nobles depart from the chamber, and following them the
last, firmly barred the door upon the outside. Thus was the Princess
Joceliande left alone with dead Solita, and ever she heard the closing
and barring of doors and the sound of feet growing fainter and
fainter. But no one came to her, loud though she cried, and sorely was
she afeard, gazing now at the dead body, now wondering what manner of
death the Sieur Rudel planned for her. Then she walked to the window
if by any chance she might win help that way, and saw the ships riding
at their anchorage with sails loose, and heard the songs of the
sailors as they made ready to cast free; and between the coast and
the castle were many men hurrying backwards and forwards with all the
purveyance of a voyage. Then did she think that she was to be left
alone in the tower, to starve to death in company of the girl she had
murdered, and great moan she made; but other device was in the mind
of my ingenious master Lord Rudel. For all about the castle he piled
stacks of wood and drenched them with oil, bethinking him that
Solita his wife, if little joy she had had of her life, should have
undeniable honour in her obsequies. And so having set fire to the
stacks, he got him into the ships with all the company that had
dwelled within the castle, and drew out a little way from shore. Then
the ships lay to and watched the flames mounting the castle walls. The
tower wherein the Princess Joceliande was prisoned was the topmost
turret of the building, so that many a roof crashed in, and many a
rampart bowed out and crumbled to the ground, or ever the fire touched
it. But just as night was drawing on, lo! a great tongue of flame
burst through the window from within, and the Sieur Rudel beheld in
the midst of it as it were the figure of a woman dancing.
Thereupon he signed to his sailors to hoist the sail again, and the
other ships obeying his example, he led the way gallantly to Broye.