Now telleth the tale that once upon a time there lived an Emperor of
Byzantium, the which town is now called Constantinople, but in ancient
days it was called Byzantium. In days long since there reigned in this
city an Emperor; a Paynim he was, and was held to be a great clerk in
the laws of his religion. He was learned in a science called astronomy,
and knew the courses of the stars, the planets and the moon; moreover,
in the stars he read many marvels; he had knowledge of many things
which the Paynims study deeply, and had faith in divinations, and in
the answers of the Evil One--that is to say, the Adversary. He knew,
besides, much of enchantments and sorceries, as many a Paynim doth to
this very day.
Now it chanced that the Emperor Muselin fared forth one night, he and a
certain lord of his together, and went their ways about this city of
Constantinople, and the moon shone very clear. They heard a Christian
woman, travailing of child, cry aloud as they passed before her house;
but the husband of this dame was set in the terrace upon his roof, and
now he prayed God to deliver her from her peril, and again he prayed
that she might not be delivered. When the Emperor had listened to his
words for a long time, he said to the knight--
"Have you heard this caitif who prays now that his wife may not be
delivered of her child, and again that she may be delivered? Surely he
is viler than any thief, for every man should show pity to woman, and
the greater pity to her in pain with child. But may Mahound and
Termagaunt aid me never if I hang him not by the neck, so he give me
not fair reason for this deed. Let us now go to him."
So they went, and the Emperor spake him thus, "Caitif, tell me truly
why thou prayest thy God in this fashion, now that He should deliver
thy wife in her labour, and again that she should not be delivered;
this must I know!"
"Sire," answered he, "I will tell you readily. Truly I am a clerk, and
know much of a science that men call astrology. I have learned, too,
the courses of the stars and the planets, and thus I knew well that
were my wife delivered in that hour when I prayed God to close her
womb, then the child must be for ever lost, and certainly would he be
hanged, or drowned, or set within the fire. But when I saw the hour was
good, and the case fair, then I prayed God that she might be delivered;
and I cried to Him, so that of His mercy He heard my prayer, and now
the boy is born to a goodly heritage; blessed be God and praised be His
Name."
"Now tell me," said the King, "to what fair heritage is this child
born?"
"Sire," said he, "with all my heart. Know, sire, of a truth that the
child born in this place shall have to wife the daughter of the Emperor
of this town, she who was born but eight days since, and shall become
Emperor and lord of this city, and of the whole world."
"Caitif," cried the Emperor, "never can it come to pass as thou
sayest."
"Sire," answered he, "so shall it be seen, and thus behoveth it to be."
"Certes," said the Emperor, "great faith hath he who receives it."
Then they went from the house, but the Emperor commanded his knight
that he should bear away the child in so privy a manner, if he were
able, that none should see the deed. The knight came again to the
house, and found two women in the chamber, diligently tending the
mother in her bed, but the child was wrapt in linen clothes, and was
laid upon a stool. Thereupon the knight entered the room, and set hands
upon the child, and placed him on a certain table used for chess, and
carried him to the Emperor, in so secret a fashion that neither nurse
nor mother saw aught thereof. Then the Emperor struck the child with a
knife, wounding him from the stomach to the navel, protesting to the
knight that never should son of such a miscreant have his daughter to
wife, nor come to sit upon his throne. He would even have plucked the
heart from out the breast, but the knight dissuaded him, saying--
"Ah, sire, for the love of God, what is this thing that you would do!
Such a deed becomes you naught, and if men heard thereof, great
reproach would be yours. Enough have you done, for he is more than dead
already. But if it be your pleasure to take further trouble in the
matter, give him to me, and I will cast him in the sea."
"Yea," cried the Emperor, "throw him in the water, for I hate him too
much."
The knight took the child, wrapped him in a piece of broidered silk,
and went with him towards the water. But on his way, pity came into his
heart, and he thought within himself that never should new-born babe be
drowned by him; so he set him, swathed in the silken cloth, on a warm
muck-heap, before the gate of a certain abbey of monks, who at that
hour were chanting matins. When the monks kept silence from their
singing, they heard the crying of the child, and carried him to the
Lord Abbot, who commanded that so fair a boy should be cherished of
them. So they unswathed him from the piece of stuff, and saw the grisly
wound upon his body. As soon, therefore, as it was day the Abbot sent
for physicians, and inquired of them at what cost they would cure the
child of his hurt; and they asked of him one hundred pieces of gold.
But he answered that such a sum was beyond his means, and that the
saving of the child would prove too costly. Then he made a bargain with
the surgeons to heal the child of his wound for eighty golden pieces;
and afterwards he brought him to the font, and caused him to be named
COUSTANT, because of his costing the abbey so great a sum to be made
whole.
Whilst the doctors were about this business, the Abbot sought out a
healthy nurse, in whose breast the infant lay till he was healed of his
hurt, for his flesh was soft and tender, and the knife wound grew
together quickly, but ever after on his body showed the gash. The child
grew in stature, and to great beauty. When he was seven years old the
Abbot put him to school, where he proved so fair a scholar that he
passed all his class-mates in aptness and knowledge. When he was twelve
years of age the boy had come to marvellous beauty; no fairer could you
find in all the land; and when the Abbot saw how comely was the lad and
how gracious, he caused him to ride in his train when he went abroad.
Now it chanced that the Abbot wished to complain to the Emperor of a
certain wrong that his servants had done to the abbey. So the Abbot
made ready a rich present, for the abbey and monastery were his
vassals, although this Emperor was but a Saracen. When the Abbot had
proffered his goodly gift, the Emperor appointed a time, three days
thence, to inquire into the matter, when he would lie at a castle of
his, some three miles out from the city of Byzantium. On the day fixed
by the Emperor, the Abbot got to horse, with his chaplain, his squire,
and his train; and amongst them rode Constant, so goodly in every whit
that all men praised his exceeding beauty, and said amongst themselves
that certainly he came of high peerage, and would rise to rank and
wealth. Thus rode the Abbot towards the castle where the Emperor lay,
and when they met, he greeted him and did him homage, and the Emperor
bade him to enter within the castle, where he would speak with him of
his wrong. The Abbot bowed before him and answered--
"Sire, as God wills."
The Abbot called Constant to him, for the lad carried the prelate's hat
of felt, whilst he talked with the Emperor, and the Emperor gazed on
the varlet, and saw him so comely and winning, that never before had he
seen so fair a person. Then he asked who the boy was; and the Abbot
answered that he knew little, save that he was his man, and that the
abbey had nourished him from his birth--"and truly were this business
of ours finished, I could relate fine marvels concerning him."
"Is this so?" said the Emperor; "come now with me to the castle, and
there you shall tell me the truth."
The Emperor returned to the castle, and the Abbot was ever at his side,
as one who had a heavy business, and he made the best bargain that he
might, for the Emperor was his lord and suzerain. But the matter did
not put from the Emperor's mind the great beauty of the lad, and he
commanded the Abbot to bring the varlet before him. So the boy was sent
for, and came with speed. When Constant stood in the presence, the
Emperor praised his beauty, and said to the Abbot that it was a great
pity that so fair a child should be a Christian. The Abbot replied that
it was rather a great happiness, for one day he would render to God an
unspotted soul. When the Emperor heard this thing he laughed at his
folly, saying the laws of Christ were of nothing worth, and that hell
was the portion of such as put faith in them. Sorely grieved was the
Abbot when he heard the Paynim jest in this fashion, but he dared not
to answer as he wished, and spake soft words to him right humbly.
"Sire, so it pleases the Almighty, such souls are not lost, for, with
all sinners, they go to the mercy of the Merciful."
The Emperor inquired when the boy came to his hands, and the Abbot
replied that fifteen years before he was found by night on the
muck-heap before the abbey door.
"Our monks heard the wail of a tiny child as they came from chanting
matins, so they searched for him, and carried him to me. I looked on
the child, and he was very fair, so that I bade them to take him to the
font and to cherish him duly. He was swathed in a rich stuff of scarlet
silk, and when he was unwrapped I saw on his stomach a grievous wound;
so I sent for doctors and surgeons, and bargained with them to cure him
of his hurt for eighty pieces of gold. Afterwards we baptized him, and
gave him the name of COUSTANT, because of his costing so great a sum to
be made whole. Yet, though he be healed of his wound, never will his
body lose the mark of that grisly gash."
When the Emperor heard this story he knew well that it was the child
whom he had sought to slay in so felon a fashion; so he prayed the
Abbot to give the lad to his charge. Then replied the Abbot that he
would put the matter before his Chapter, but that for his own part the
boy should be given to the King very willingly. Never a word, for good
or evil, spake the King; so the Abbot took leave, and returned to the
monastery, and calling a Chapter of his monks, told them that the
Emperor demanded Constant from their hands.
"But I answered that I must speak to you to know your pleasure therein.
Now answer if I have done aright."
"What, sire, done rightly!" cried the gravest and wisest of all the
monks; "evilly and foolishly have you done in not giving him just what
he asked at once. If you will hear our counsel, send Constant to him
now as he requires, lest he be angry with us, for quickly can he do us
much mischief."
Since it seemed to all the Chapter good that Constant should be sent to
the Emperor, the Abbot bade the prior to go upon this errand, and he
obeyed, saying, "As God pleases."
He got to horse, and Constant with him, and riding to the Emperor,
greeted him in the name of the Abbot and the abbey; then taking
Constant by the hand, gave him to the Emperor formally, in such names
and in their stead. The Paynim received him as one angered that a
nameless man and vagabond must have a king's daughter to wife, and well
he thought in his heart to serve him some evil turn.
When the Emperor held Constant in his power, he pondered deeply how he
might slay him, and no man speak a word. It chanced at this time that
the Emperor had business which called him to the frontier of his realm,
a very long way off, a full twelve days' journey. He set forth,
carrying Constant in his train, yet brooding how to do him to death;
and presently he caused letters to be written in this wise to the
castellan of Byzantium.
"I, the Emperor of Byzantium, and lord of Greece, make him,
the governor of my city, to know that as soon as he shall
read this letter he shall slay, or cause to be slain, the
bearer of this letter, forthwith, upon the delivery thereof.
As your proper body to you is dear, so fail not this
command."
Such was the letter Constant carried, and little he knew that it was
his death he held in hand. He took the warrant, which was closely
sealed, and set out upon his way, riding in such manner that in less
than fifteen days he reached Byzantium, the town we now call
Constantinople. When the varlet rode through the gate it was the
dinner-hour, so (by the will of God) he thought he would not carry his
letter to table, but would wait till men had dined. He came with his
horse to the palace garden, and the weather was very hot, for it was
near to Midsummer day. The pleasaunce was deep and beautiful, and the
lad unbitted his horse, loosened the saddle, and let him graze; then he
threw himself down beneath the shelter of a tree, and in that sweet and
peaceful place presently fell sound asleep.
Now it happened that when the fair daughter of the Emperor had dined,
she entered the garden, and with her four of her maidens, and soon they
began to run one after the other, in such play as is the wont of
damsels when alone. Playing thus, the fair daughter of the Emperor
found herself beneath the tree where Constant lay sleeping, and he was
flushed as any rose. When the Princess saw him, she would not willingly
withdraw her eyes, saying to her own heart that never in her life had
she beheld so comely a person. Then she called to her that one of her
companions who was her closest friend, and made excuses to send the
others forth from the garden. The fair maiden took her playfellow by
the hand, and brought her towards the slumbering youth, saying--
"Sweet friend, here is rich and hidden treasure. Certes, never in all
my days have I seen so gracious a person. He is the bearer of letters,
and right willingly would I learn his news."
The two damsels came near the sleeping lad, and softly withdrew the
letter. When the Princess read the warrant she began to weep very
bitterly, and said to her companion, "Certainly this is a heavy
matter."
"Ah, madame," said her fellow, "tell me all the case."
"Truly," answered the Princess, "could I but trust you fully, such
heaviness should soon be turned to joy."
"Lady," replied she, "surely you may trust me; never will I make known
that which you desire to be hid."
So that maiden, the daughter of the Emperor, caused her fellow to
pledge faith by all that she held most dear, and then she revealed what
the letter held; and the girl answered her--
"Lady, what would you do herein?"
"I will tell you readily," said the Princess. "I will put within his
girdle another letter from my father in place of this, bidding the
castellan to give me as wife to this comely youth, and to call all the
people of this realm to the wedding banquet; for be sure that the youth
is loyal and true, and a man of peerage."
When the maiden heard this she said within herself that such a turn
were good to play.
"But, Lady, how may you get the seal of your father to the letter?"
"Very easily," answered the Princess; "ere my father left for the
marches he gave me eight sheets of parchment, sealed at the foot with
his seal, but with nothing written thereon, and there will I set all
that I have told you."
"Lady," said she, "right wisely have you spoken; but lose no time, and
hasten lest he awake."
"I will go now," said the Princess.
The fair maiden, the daughter of the Emperor, went straight to her
wedding chest, and drew therefrom one of the sealed parchments left her
by her father, so that she might borrow moneys in his name should
occasion arise. For, always was this king and his people at war with
felon and mighty princes whose frontiers were upon his borders. Thereon
she wrote her letter in such manner as this--
"I, King Muselin, Emperor of Greece and of Byzantium the
great city, to my Castellan of Byzantium greeting. I command
you to give the bearer of this letter to my fair daughter in
marriage, according to our holy law; for I have heard, and
am well persuaded, that he is of noble descent and right
worthy the daughter of a king. And, moreover, at such time
grant holiday and proclaim high festival to all burgesses of
the city, and throughout my realm."
In such fashion wrote and witnessed the letter of that fair maiden the
daughter of the Emperor. So when her letter was finished she hastened
to the garden, she and her playmate together, and finding Constant yet
asleep, placed privily the letter beneath his girdle. Then the two
girls began to sing and to make such stir as must needs arouse him. The
lad awoke from his slumber, and was all amazed at the beauty of the
lady and her companion. They drew near, and the Princess gave him
gracious greeting, whereupon Constant got to his feet and returned her
salutation right courteously. She inquired of him as to his name and
his business, and he answered that he was the bearer of letters from
the Emperor to the governor of the city. The girl replied that she
would bring him at once to the presence of the castellan; so she took
him by the hand and led him within the palace; and all within the hall
rose at the girl's approach, and did reverence to their Lady.
The demoiselle sought after the castellan, who was in his chamber, and
there she brought the varlet, who held forth his letter, and added
thereto the Emperor's greeting. The seneschal made much of the lad,
kissing his hand; but the maid for her part kissed both letter and
seal, as one moved with delight, for it was long since she had learned
her father's news. Afterwards she said to the governor that it were
well to read the dispatch in counsel together, and this she said
innocently as one who knew nothing of what was therein. To this the
castellan agreed, so he and the maiden passed to the council chamber
alone. Thereupon the girl unfolded the letter, and made it known to the
governor, and she seemed altogether amazed and distraught as she read.
But the castellan took her to task.
"Lady, certainly the will of my lord your father must be done;
otherwise will his blame come upon us with a heavy hand."