The Tale of King Florus and the Fair Jehane

HERE telleth the tale of a king who had to name King Florus of Ausay. A

full good knight was he and a gentleman of high lineage. The said King

Florus of Ausay took to wife the daughter of the Prince of Brabant, who

was a woman very gentle, and of great line: and a right fair maid was she

when he wedded her and dainty of body and fashion; and saith the tale

that she was but of fifteen years when the King Florus took her, and he

but of seventeen. A full good life they lived, as for young folk who

loved together dearly: but King Florus might have no child of her,

whereof he was sore grieving, and she also was exceeding heavy-hearted

thereat. Much fair was this lady, and much she loved God and Holy

Church, and therewith was so good almsgiver and so charitable that she

fed and clad poor people and kissed their feet. And to mesel folk both

carles and queans was she so kind and careful, that the Holy Ghost dwelt

in her. Her Lord King Florus went often to tournays in Alemain and

France, and in many other lands whereas he wotted of them, when he was

without war: much good he expended thereon and much honour he gained

thereby.

But now leaveth the tale to tell of him and taketh up the word of a

knight who dwelt in the marches of Flanders and Hainault. This said

knight was full valiant and hardy, and right trusty, and had to wife a

full fair dame of whom he had a much fair daughter, who had to name

Jehane and was then of the age of twelve years. Much word there was of

this fair maiden; for in all the land was none so fair. Her mother spake

often to her lord that he should give her in marriage; but he was so

given up to the following of tournays, that he was nowise hot on the

wedding of his daughter, and his wife ever admonished him thereof when he

came home from his tournays.

Now this knight had a squire who had to name Robin, and was the

valiantest squire to be found in any land, and by his prowess and his

good fame oft he bore away the prize for his lord from the tournay

whereas he wended. Whereon it befel that his lady thus bespake him:

“Robin, my lord is so given up to these tournays that I know not how to

speak with him, whereof I am sore at heart, for I would well that he

should lay pain and care to the wedding of my daughter; wherefore I pray

thee, for the love of me, that whenas thou seest the point thou say to

him that he doth very ill and is sore blamed that he weddeth not his fair

daughter, for there is no knight in the land how rich soever he be who

would not take her with a good will.” “Lady,” said Robin, “ye have said

well; I will say it right well; since forsooth he troweth me of many

things, and so will he hereof meseemeth.” “Robin,” said the lady, “I

pray thee of this business for all guerdon.” “Dame,” said Robin, “I am

well prayed hereof; and wot ye that I will do to my power herein.” “It

is enough,” said the lady.

No long while after the knight betook him to wending to a tournay afar

from his land, and when he came there he was retained straightway of the

fellowship, he and the knight of whose mesney he was, and his banner was

borne into the hostel of his lord. The tournay began, and the knight did

so well by means of the good deeds of Robin, his squire, that he bore off

the praise and prize of the tournay from one party and the other. On the

second day the knight betook him to wending to his own land, and Robin

put him to reason many times and blamed him much in that he gave not his

fair daughter in marriage, and many times he said it to him, till at the

last his lord said to him: “Robin, thou and thy lady give me no peace

about the marrying of my daughter; but as yet I know and see no man in my

land unto whom I would give her.” “Ah, sir,” said Robin, “there is not a

knight in thy land who would not take her with a good will.” “Fair

friend Robin, they are of no avail, all of them; and to none of them

shall I give her; and forsooth to no one would I give her as now, save to

one man only, and he forsooth is no knight.” “Sir, tell me of him,” said

Robin, “and I shall speak or let speak to him so subtilly that the

marriage shall be made.” “Certes, Robin,” said the knight, “from the

semblance that I see of thee thou willest well that my daughter should be

wedded.” “Sir,” said Robin, “thou sayest sooth, for it is well time.”

“Robin,” said the knight, “whereas thou art so eager that my daughter

should be wedded, she shall be wedded right soon if thou accord to the

said wedding.” “Certes, sir,” said Robin, “of a good will shall I accord

thereto.” “Wilt thou give me thy word herein?” “Yea, sir,” said Robin.

“Robin, thou hast served me exceeding well, and I have found thee a

valiant man, and a loyal, and such as I be thou hast made me, and great

gain have I gotten by thee, to wit, five hundred pounds of land; for it

was but a little while that I had but five hundred, and now have I a

thousand, and I tell thee that I owe much to thee: wherefore will I give

my fair daughter unto thee, if thou wilt take her.” “Ha, sir,” said

Robin, “God’s mercy, what is this thou sayest? I am too poor a person to

have so high a maiden, nor one so fair and so rich as my damsel is; I am

not meet thereto. For there is no knight in this land, be he never so

gentle a man, but would take her with a good will.” “Robin, know that no

knight of this land shall have her, but I shall give her to thee, if thou

will it; and thereto will I give thee four hundred pounds of my land.”

“Ha, sir,” said Robin, “I deem that thou mockest me.” “Robin,” said the

knight, “wot thou surely that I mock thee not.” “Ha, sir, neither my

lady nor her great lineage will accord hereto.” “Robin,” said the

knight, “nought shall be done herein at the will of any of them. Hold!

here is my glove, I invest thee with four hundred pounds of my land, and

I will be thy warrant for all.” “Sir,” said Robin “I will nought naysay

it; fair is the gift since I know that is soothfast.” “Robin,” said the

knight, “now hast thou the rights thereof.”

Then the knight delivered to him his glove, and invested him with the

land and his fair daughter.

Then rode the knight so far by his journeys, that he came into his land,

and when he was come thither, his wife, who was a much fair lady, made

him right great joy, and said to him: “Sir, for God’s sake think of thy

fair daughter, that she be wedded.” “Dame,” said the lord, “so much hast

thou spoken hereof that I have wedded her.” “Sir,” said the lady, “unto

whom?” “Forsooth, dame, I have given her to such a man as shall never

lack of valiancy: I have given her to Robin my squire.” “Robin! Alas!”

quoth the lady; “Robin hath nought, and there is no knight so mighty in

all the land, but will take her with a good will; of a surety Robin shall

never have her.” “Yea, but have her he shall, dame,” said the knight,

“and I have invested him with four hundred pounds of my land; and all

that I ought to warrant him, warrant him I will.” When the dame heard

that, she was much sorry, and said to her lord that Robin should have her

never. “Nay, dame,” said the lord, “have her he shall, wilt thou or wilt

thou not; for even so have I made covenant and I will hold to the same.”

When the lady heard her lord, she entered into her chamber and fell

a-weeping and making great dole; after the dole which she made she sent

to seek her brothers and her nephews and her cousins germain, and showed

them that which her lord would do; and they said to her: “Dame, what will

ye that we do? We have no will to go against thy lord, for he is a

knight valiant and hardy and weighty withal: and on the other hand he may

do with his daughter according to his will, and with his land which he

hath gotten withal. So wot thou well that we will not hang shield on

neck herein.” “Nay? alas, then!” said the dame, “so shall my heart never

have joy if I lose my fair daughter. At least, fair lords, I pray you

that ye show him that if he does thus he will neither do well nor

according to his honour.” “Dame,” say they, “this setting forth will we

do with a good will.”

So they came unto the knight, and when they had showed him their business

he answered them right courteously: “Fair lords, I will tell you what I

will do for the love of you; if it please you I will put off the wedding

in this wise as I shall tell you; to wit: Amongst you ye be rich and of

great lands; ye are nigh friends of my fair daughter, whom I love much.

If ye will give her four hundred pounds of land I will set aside the

wedding, and she shall be wedded elsewhere according to your counsel.”

“A-God’s name,” quoth they, “we be nought fain to lay down so much.”

“Well, then,” said the knight, “since ye will not do this, then suffer me

to do with my daughter as I list.” “Sir, with a good will,” said they.

So the knight sent for his chaplain, and brought thither his fair

daughter, and let affiance her to Robin, and set a day for the wedding.

But the third day thereafter, Robin spake to his lord, and prayed him

make him a knight, whereas it was nought meet that he should take to him

so high a wife and so fair before he was a knight. His lord had great

joy thereof, and the next day he was made knight, and the third day

wedded the fair maiden with great feast and joyance.

But when master Robin was made knight he spake thus to his lord: “Sir, ye

have made me knight; and true it is that against the peril of death I

vowed me to the road unto Saint Jamesward on the morrow of my knighting;

wherefore I pray thee take it not in dudgeon if to-morrow morn I must

needs go my ways so soon as I shall have wedded thy fair daughter;

whereas in nowise will I break mine oath.” “Forsooth, master Robin, if

thou leave thus my fair daughter and thus wise go your ways, ye shall be

much to blame.” “Sir,” said he, “I shall come back right soon if God

will; but this wayfaring I needs must perforce.” Whenas a certain knight

of the court of the lord heard these words he blamed Sir Robin much,

whereas he was leaving his fair wife at such a point, and Sir Robin said

that he needs must do it. “Certes,” said the knight, who had to name

Raoul, “if thou goest thus to Saint James without touching thy fair wife,

I will make thee cuckold before thine home-coming, and when thou comest

home I will give thee good tokens that I have had share of her. Now I

will lay my land thereto against thine, which our lord hath given thee,

for I have well four hundred pounds of land even as thou hast.”

“Forsooth,” said Sir Robin, “my wife is not come of such blood as that

she shall misdo against me, and I may not believe in it nowise: I will

make the wager with thee, if it please thee.” “Yea,” said Sir Raoul,

“wilt thou pledge thee thereto?” “Yea, verily,” said Sir Robin, “and

thou?” “Yea, and I also. Now go we to my lord and make record of our

covenant.” “That will I well,” said Sir Robin. Therewith they go unto

the lord, and the wager was recorded, and they pledged them to hold

thereto. On the morrow betimes Sir Robin wedded the fair maiden, and

straightway after mass was said, he departed from the house and left the

wedding, and took the road for St. Jakem.

But now leaveth the tale to tell of him and telleth of Sir Raoul, who was

in great imagination how he might win his wager and lie by the fair lady.

And saith the tale that the lady held her much simply while her lord was

on pilgrimage, and was going to the minster with a good will, and prayed

God that he would bring back her lord. But Sir Raoul pained him on the

other hand how he might win his wager, for great doubt he had to lose his

land. He spake with the carline who dwelt with the fair lady, and said

to her, that if she could so bring it about that she might set him in

place and at point that he might speak privily with my lady Jehane, and

have his will of her, he would give her much good, so that there would be

no hour when she should not be rich. “Sir, forsooth,” said the carline,

“thou art so fair a knight, and so wise and courteous that my lady should

well ought to love thee par amours, and I will put myself to the pain

herein to the utmost of my might.” Then the knight drew out straightway

a forty sols, and gave it to her to buy a gown. The carline took them

with a goodwill, and set them away surely, and said that she would speak

with the lady. The knight departed from the carline, and the carline

abode and took her lady to task when she came back from the minster, and

said to her: “In God’s name, lady, tell me true! My lord, when he went

to Saint Jakem, had he ever lain by thee?” “Wherefore dost thou say

this, dame Hersent?” “Lady, because I trow that thou be yet a clean

maid.” “Certes, dame Hersent, so am I verily; for of no woman wot I who

would do such a deed.” “Lady,” said dame Hersent, “great damage it is;

for if ye wotted how great is the joy that women have when they be with a

man who loveth them, ye would say that there is no joy so great; and for

this cause I marvel much that ye love not par amours even as these other

ladies who all love. But if it pleaseth thee the matter is ready to

hand; whereas I wot of a knight, fair and valiant and wise, who will love

thee with a good will; a much rich man is he, and fairer by far than the

coward recreant who hath left thee. And if ye dare love ye may have

whatso ye dare ask; and so much joy shall ye have as never lady had

more.” So much spake the carline by her words that the needle of nature

stirred somewhat. The lady asked who the knight might be. “Who is it,

lady? A-God’s name! I may well name him. It is the lovely, the

valiant, the hardy Sir Raoul, who is one of the mesney of thy father; the

kindest heart men wot of.” “Dame Hersent,” said the lady, “thou wert

best let such words be; for I have no desire to misdo of my body, of no

such blood am I come.” “Dame,” said the carline, “I wot well. But never

shalt thou know the worthy joy when a man wendeth with a woman.”

Thuswise abode the matter. Sir Raoul came back to the carline, and she

told him how she had talked with the lady, and what she had answered.

“Dame Hersent,” said the knight, “thus wise should a good lady answer;

but ye shall speak with her again, for one doeth not the business at the

first stroke: and hold, here be twenty sols to buy thee a cloth to thy

surcoat.” The carline took the silver, and spake with the lady often,

but nought it availed.

Wore the time till at last they heard news that Sir Robin was wending

back from Saint Jakem, and that he was already hard on Paris. Soon was

known the tidings, and Sir Raoul, who had fear of the losing of his

lands, returned to the carline, and spake with her; and she said that she

might not bring the business to an end: but that she would do so much for

the love of him, if she should earn her service, that she would so bring

it about as that there should be none in the house save he and this lady:

and then he might do his will on her, will she nill she: and he said that

he asked for nought else. “Then,” said the carline, “ye, my lord, shall

come within eight days, and I will do my lady to bathe her in her

chamber, and I will send all the mesney out of the house and out of the

castle; then can ye come to her bathing in the chamber, and may have your

desire of her, either with her good will or maugre.” “Ye have well

said,” quoth he.

Abode matters thus till Sir Robin sent word that he was coming to hand,

and would be at the house on the Sunday. Then the carline let bathe the

lady the Thursday before, and the bath was in her chamber, and the fair

lady entered therein. But the carline sent after Sir Raoul, and he came.

Thereafter she sent all the folk of the household out of the house. Sir

Raoul came his ways to the chamber and entered therein, and greeted the

lady, but she greeted him not again, but said thus:

“Sir Raoul, thou art nowise courteous. Whether wottest thou forsooth

that it is well with me of thy coming? accursed be thou, villain knight!”

But Sir Raoul said: “My lady, mercy, a-God’s name! I am but dying for

grief of thee. For God’s sake have pity of me!” “Sir Raoul,” said she,

“I will have no mercy in such wise that I will ever be thy darling. And

wot thou well that if thou leave me not in peace I will tell my lord, my

father, the honour thou requirest of me: for I am none such as that.”

“Nay, lady, is it so, then?” “Yea, verily,” said she.

Therewith Sir Raoul drew nigh to her, and embraced her in his arms, which

were strong enow, and drew her all naked out of the bath and bore her

toward her bed; and so soon as he drew her forth of the bath he saw a

black spot which she had on her right groin hard by her natural part; and

he thought therewithal that that were a good token that he had lain by

her. Thus as he bore her off to her bed, his spurs hooked them into the

serge at the bed’s edge toward the foot thereof, and down fell the

knight, he and the lady together, he below and she above; but she rose up

straightway and caught up a billet of wood, and smote Sir Raoul therewith

amidst the face, and made him a wound both deep and wide, so that the

blood fell to earth. So when Sir Raoul felt himself hurt he had no great

desire to play, wherefore he arose and got him gone out of the chamber

straightway: he did so much that he came to his hostel, where he dwelt a

good league thence, and there he had his wound dealt with. But the good

dame entered into her bath again, and called dame Hersent, and told the

adventure of the knight.

Much great array made the father of the fair lady against the coming of

Sir Robin, and he summoned much folk, and sent and bade Sir Raoul to

come; but he sent word that he might not come, for that he was sick. On

the Sunday camel Sir Robin, and was received right fairly; and the father

of the fair lady went to seek Sir Raoul and found him wounded, and said

that now for nought might he abide behind from the feast. So he dight

his face and his hurt the best wise he might, and went to the feast,

which was great and grand day long of drinking and of eating, and of

dancing and carolling.

When night was come Sir Robin went to bed with his wife, who received him

much joyously as a good dame ought to her lord; so abode they in joy and

in feast the more part of the night. On the morrow great was the feast,

and the victual was dight and they ate. But when it was after dinner,

Sir Raoul bore on hand Sir Robin, and said that he had won his land,

whereas he had known his wife carnally, by the token, to wit, that she

had a black spot on her right thigh and a pearlet hard by her jewel.

“Thereof I wot not,” said Sir Robin, “for I have not looked on her so

close.” “Well, then, I tell thee,” said Sir Raoul, “by the oath that

thou hast given me that thou take heed thereof, and do me right.” “So

will I, verily,” said Sir Robin.

When night was, Sir Robin played with his wife, and found and saw on her

right thigh the black spot, and a pearlet hard by her fair jewel: and

when he knew it he was sore grieving. On the morrow he went to Sir

Raoul, and said before his lord that he had lost his wager. Heavy of

heart was he day long, and when it was night he went to the stable, and

set the saddle on his palfrey, and went forth from the house, bearing

with him what he might get him of silver. So came to Paris, and when he

was at Paris he abode there three days. But now leaveth the tale to tell

of him, and taketh up the word concerning his wife.

Here saith the tale that much sorrowful was the fair lady and heavy of

heart, when she called to mind how she had cast her lord out of his

house. Much she thought of the wherefore thereof and wept and made great

dole; till her father came to her, and said that he were fainer if she

were yet to wed, whereas she had done him shame and all them of his

lineage; and he told her how and wherefore. When she heard that, she was

sore grieved and denied the deed downright; but nought availed. For it

is well known that shame so sore is contrary to all women, that if a

woman were to burn all, she would not be trowed of such a misdoing, once

it were laid on her.

On the first hour of the night the lady arose, and took all pennies that

she had in her coffer, and took a nag and a harness thereto, and gat her

to the road; and she had let shear her fair tresses, and was otherwise

arrayed like to an esquire. So much she went by her journeys that she

came to Paris, and went after her lord; and she said and declared that

she would never make an end before she had found him. Thus she rode like

to a squire. And on a morning she went forth out of Paris, and wended

the way toward Orleans until she came to the Tomb Isory, and there she

fell in with her lord Sir Robin. Full fain she was when she saw him, and

she drew up to him and greeted him, and he gave her greeting back and

said: “Fair friend, God give thee joy!” “Sir,” said she, “whence art

thou?” “Forsooth, fair friend, I am of old Hainault.” “Sir, whither

wendeth thou?” “Forsooth, fair friend, I wot not right well whither I

go, nor where I shall dwell. Forsooth, needs must I where fortune shall

lead me; and she is contrary enough; for I have lost the thing in the

world that most I ever loved: and she also hath lost me. Withal I have

lost my land, which was great and fair enough. But what hast thou to

name, and whither doth God lead thee?” “Certes, sir,” said Jehane, “I am

minded for Marseilles on the sea, where is war as I hope. There would I

serve some valiant man, about whom I shall learn me arms if God will.

For I am so undone in mine own country that therein for a while of time I

may not have peace. But, sir, meseemeth that thou be a knight, and I

would serve thee with a right good will if it please thee. And of my

company wilt thou be nought worsened.” “Fair friend,” said Sir Robin, “a

knight am I verily. And where I may look to find war, thitherward would

I draw full willingly. But tell me what thou hast to name?” “Sir,” said

she, “I have to name John.” “In a good hour,” quoth the knight. “And

thou, sir, how hight thou?” “John,” said he, “I have to name Robin.”

“Sir Robin, retain me as thine esquire, and I will serve thee to my

power.” “John, so would I with a good will. But so little of money have

I that I must needs sell my horse before three days are worn. Wherefore

I wot not how to do to retain thee.” “Sir,” said John, “be not dismayed

thereof, for God will aid thee if it please him. But tell me where thou

wilt eat thy dinner?” “John, my dinner will soon be made; for not

another penny have I than three sols of Paris.” “Sir,” said John, “be

nought dismayed thereof, for I have hard on ten pounds Tournais, whereof

thou shalt not lack, if thou hast not to spend at thy will.” “Fair

friend John, have thou mickle thanks.”

Then made they good speed to Montlhery: there John dight meat for his

lord and they ate. When they had eaten, the knight slept in a bed and

John at his feet. When they had slept, John did on the bridles, and they

mounted and gat to the road. They went so far by their journeys that

they came to Marseilles-on-sea; but of war they heard no word there,

whereof were they much sorry. But now leaveth the tale to tell of them

two, and returneth to tell of Sir Raoul, who had by falsehood gained the

land of Sir Robin.

Here telleth the tale that so long did Sir Raoul hold the land of Sir

Robin without righteous cause, for seven years’ wearing. Then he took a

great sickness and of that sickness was sore beaten down, insomuch that

he was on the point of death. Now he doubted much the transgression

which he had done against the fair lady the daughter of his lord, and

against her husband also, whereby they were undone, both of them by

occasion of his malice. Exceeding ill at ease was he of his wrongdoing,

which was so great that he durst not confess it.

Came a day when he was sore undone by his sickness, so he sent for his

chaplain whom he loved much, for he had found him a man valiant and

loyal; and he said to him: “Sir, thou who art my father before God, know

that I look to die of this sickness, wherefore I pray thee for God’s sake

that ye aid me with your counsel, for great is my need thereof, for I

have done an ill deed so hideous and dark that scarce shall I have mercy

therefor.” The chaplain bade him tell it out hardily, and that he would

aid him with counsel to his power; till at last Sir Raoul told him all as

ye have heard afore. And he prayed him for God’s sake give him counsel,

so great as was his misdoing. “Sir,” said he, “be nought dismayed, for

if thou wilt do the penance which I enjoin thee, I will take thy

transgression on me and on my soul, so that thou shalt be quit.” “Yea,

tell me then,” said the knight. “Sir,” said he, “thou shalt take the

cross far over sea, and thou shalt get thee thereto within the year

wherein thou art whole, and shalt give pledges to God that thou shalt so

do: and in every place where men ask thee the occasion of thy journey,

thou shalt tell it to all who shall ask it of thee.” “All this will I

well do,” said the knight. “Then, sir, give thou good pledge.” “With a

good will,” said the knight; “thou thyself shalt abide surety for me, and

I swear to thee on my knighthood that I shall quit thee well.” “A-God’s

name, sir!” quoth the chaplain, “I will be thy surety.” Now turned the

knight to amendment, and was all whole; and a year wore wherein he went

not over sea. The chaplain spake to him often thereof, but he held the

covenant as but a jest; till at last the chaplain said that but if he

acquitted him before God of his pledge, he would tell the tale to the

father of the fair damsel, who had been thus undone by him. When the

knight heard that, he said to the chaplain that within half a year he

would set about the crossing of the sea, and so swore to him. But now

leaveth the tale to tell of the knight, and returneth to telling of King

Florus of Ausaye, of whom for a great while it hath been silent.

Now saith the tale that a much good life led King Florus of Ausay and his

wife, as of young folk who loved each other; but much sorry and

heavy-hearted were they that they might have no child. The lady made

great prayers to God, and let sing masses; but whereas it was not well

pleasing to God, it might not be. But on a day came thither into the

house of King Florus a good man who had his dwelling in the great forest

of Ausaye in a place right wild; and when the queen knew that he was come

she came unto him and made him right great joy. And because he was a

good man she confessed to him and told him all her ailing, and how that

she was exceeding heavy of heart, because she had had no child by her

lord. “Ah, lady,” said the good man, “since it pleaseth not our Lord,

needs must thou abide it; and when it pleaseth him thou shalt have one,

or two.” “Certes, sir,” said the lady, “I were fain thereof; for my lord

holdeth me the less dear, and the high barons of this land also. Withal

it hath been told to me that they have spoken to my lord to leave me and

take another.” “Verily, dame,” said the good man, “he would do ill; it

would be done against God and against Holy Church.” “Ah, sir, I pray

thee to pray to God for me that I may have a child of my lord, for great

fear I have lest he leave me.” “Dame,” said the good man, “my prayer

shall avail but little, but if it please God; nevertheless I will pray

heartily.”

The good man departed from the lady, and the barons of the land and of

the country came to the King Florus, and bade him send away his wife and

take another, since by this he might have no child. And if he did not

after their counsel, they would go and dwell otherwhere; for in no case

would they that the realm should be without an heir. King Florus feared

his barons and trowed their word, and he said that he would send away his

wife, and that they should seek him another, and they trusted him

therein. When the lady knew it she was exeeeding heavy of heart; but

nought durst she do, for she knew that her lord would leave her. So she

sent for the hermit who had been her confessor, and he came to her. Then

the lady told him all the tale of the matter of the barons, who would

seek for their lord another woman. “And I pray thee, good father, that

thou wouldst aid me, and counsel me what I should do.” “Dame,” said the

good man, “if it be so as thou sayest, ye must needs suffer it; for

against thy lord and against his barons ye may do nought perforce.”

“Sir,” said the good lady, “thou sayest sooth: but if it please God, I

were fain to be a recluse nigh unto thee; whereby I may be at the service

of God all the days of my life, and that I may have comfort of thee.”

“Dame,” said the good man, “that would be over strange a thing, whereas

thou art too young a lady and too fair. But I will tell thee what thou

shalt do. Hard by my hermitage there is an abbey of White Nuns, who are

right good ladies, and I counsel you go thither; and they will have great

joy of thee for thy goodness and thy high dignity.” “Sir,” said she,

“thou hast well said; I will do all that thou counsellest me.”

On the morrow King Florus spake to his wife, and said thus: “Needs must

thou and I sunder, for that thou mayst have no child by me. Now I say

thee soothly that the sundering lies heavy on me, for never shall I love

woman as I have loved thee.” Therewith fell King Florus to weep sorely,

and the lady also. “Sir,” said she, “a-God’s mercy! And whither shall I

go, and what shall I do?” “Dame, thou shalt do well, if it please God,

for I will send thee back well and richly into thy country to thy

kindred.” “Sir,” said the lady, “it shall not be so: I have purveyed me

an abbey of nuns, where I will be, if it please thee; and there I will

serve God all my life; for since I lose thy company I am she that no man

shall go with any more.” Thereat King Florus wept and the lady also.

But on the third day the queen went to the abbey; and the other queen was

come, and had great feast made her, and great joy of her friends. King

Florus held her for three years, but never might have child of her. But

here the tale holdeth peace of King Florus, and betaketh it again to Sir

Robin, and to John who were at Marseilles.

Here telleth the tale that much sorry was Sir Robin when he came to

Marseilles, whereas he heard tell of nought toward in the country; so he

said to John: “What do we? Thou hast lent me of thy moneys, whereof I

thank thee: I will give them back to thee, for I will sell my palfrey,

and quit me toward thee.” “Sir,” said John, “if it please thee, believe

me, and I shall tell thee what we shall do. I have yet well an hundred

sols of Tournay, and if it please thee, I will sell our two horses, and

make money thereby: for I am the best of bakers that ye may wot of; and I

will make French bread, and I doubt me not but I shall earn my spending

well and bountifully.” “John,” said Sir Robin, “I grant it thee to do

all as thou wilt.”

So on the morrow John sold the two horses for ten pounds Tournays, and

bought corn and let grind it, and bought baskets, and fell to making

French bread, so good and so well made that he sold it for more than the

best baker of the town might do; and he did so much within two years that

he had well an hundred pounds of chattels. Then said John to his lord:

“I rede thee well that we buy us a very great house, and that we buy us

wine and take to harbouring good folk.” “John,” said Sir Robin, “do

according to thy will, for I grant it thee, and moreover I praise thee

much.” So John bought a house, great and fair, and harboured good folk,

and earned enough plenteously; and he arrayed his lord well and richly;

and Sir Robin had his palfrey, and went to eat and drink with the most

worthy of the town, and John sent him wine and victual, so that all they

that haunted his company marvelled thereat. So much he gained that in

three years’ time he had gotten him more than three hundred pounds of

garnishment, out-taken his plenishing, which was well worth fifty pounds.

But here leaveth the tale to tell of Sir Robin and of John, and goeth

back to tell of Sir Raoul.

For, saith the tale, that the chaplain held Sir Raoul right short that he

should go over sea, and quit him of the pledge he had laid down; for

great fear he had lest he yet should leave it; and so much he did that

Sir Raoul saw well that he needs must go. So he dight his journey, and

arrayed him right richly, as he that hath well enough thereto; and so he

betook him to the road with three squires: and went so much by his

journeys that he came into Marseilles-on-sea and took lodging in the

French hostel, whereas dwelt Sir Robin and John. So soon as John saw him

she knew him by the scar of the wound she had made him, and because she

had seen him many times. The knight sojourned in the town fifteen days,

and hired him passage. But the while he sojourned, John drew him in to

privy talk, and asked of him the occasion of his going over sea, and Sir

Raoul told him all the occasion, as one who had little heed thereof, even

as the tale hath told afore. When John heard that, he held his peace.

Sir Raoul set his goods aboard ship, and went upon the sea; but tarried

so much the ship wherein he was that he abode in the town for eight days;

but on the ninth day he betook him to go his ways to the holy sepulchre,

and did his pilgrimage, and confessed him the best he might: and his

confessor charged him in penance that he should give back the land which

he held wrongfully to the knight and his wife. Whereon he said to his

confessor, that when he came into his own country he would do what his

heart bade him. So he departed from Jerusalem and came to Acre, and

dight his passage as one who had great longing to repair to his own

country. He went up on to the sea, and wended so diligently, as well by

night as by day, till in less than three months he came to the port of

Aigues-mort. Then he departed from the port and came straight to

Marseilles, wherein he sojourned eight days in the hostel of Sir Robin

and John, which hight the French house. Never did Sir Robin know him,

for on that matter he thought nothing. At the end of eight days he

departed from Marseilles, he and his squires, and went so long by his

journeys that he came into his own country, where he was received with

great joy, as one who was a knight rich in land and chattels. Thereon

his chaplain took him to task, and asked of him if any had demanded the

occasion of his journey; and he said: “Yea, in three places, to wit:

Marseilles, Acre, and Jerusalem: and he of whom I took counsel bade me to

give back the land to Sir Robin, if I hear tidings of him, or to his wife

else, or to his heir.” “Certes,” said the chaplain; “he bade thee good

counsel.” Thus was Sir Raoul in his own country a great while in rest

and good ease. But here leaveth the tale to tell of him, and returneth

to Sir Robin and John.

Here saith the tale that when Sir Robin and John had been at Marseilles

for six years that John had gotten to the value of six hundred pounds,

and they were come into the seventh year, and John might gain eke what he

would, and so sweet he was, and so debonaire that he made himself loved

of all the neighbours, and therewithal he was of good hap as he might not

be of more, and maintained his lord so nobly and so richly that it was

wonder to behold. When the end of the seven years drew nigh, John fell

to talk with his lord Sir Robin, and spake thus: “Sir, we have now been a

great while in this country, and so much have we gained, that we have

hard on six hundred pounds of chattels, what of money, what of vessel of

silver.” “Forsooth, John,” said Sir Robin, “they be not mine, but thine;

for it is thou hast earned them.” “Sir,” said John, “saving thy grace,

it is not so, but they are thine: for thou art my rightful lord, and

never, if it please God, will I change.” “Gramercy, John, I hold thee

not for servant, but for companion and friend.” “Sir,” said John, “all

days I have kept thee loyal company, and shall do from henceforth.” “By

my faith,” said Sir Robin, “I will do what so pleaseth thee: but to go

into my country, I wot not to say thereof: for I have lost so much there

that hardly shall my scathe be righted to me.” “Sir,” said John, “be

thou never dismayed of that matter; for when thou art come into thine own

country thou shalt hear good tidings, please God. And doubt thou

nothing, for in all places whereas we shall be, if it please God, I shall

earn enough for thee and for me.” “Certes, John,” said Sir Robin, “I

will do as it pleaseth thee, and where thou wilt that I go, thither will

I.” “Sir,” said John, “I shall sell our chattels, and dight our journey,

and we will go within fifteen days.” “A-God’s name, John,” said Sir

Robin.

John sold all his plenishing, whereof he had good store and goodly, and

bought three horses, a palfrey for his lord, another for himself, and a

sumpter horse. Then they took leave of the neighbours, and the most

worthy of the town, who were sore grieved of their departure.

Wore the way Sir Robin and John, insomuch that in three weeks’ space they

came into their country. And Robin made known to his lord, whose

daughter he had had, that he was at hand. The lord was much joyful

thereof, for he was deeming well that his daughter would be with him.

And she indeed it was, but in the guise of an esquire. Sir Robin was

well received of his lord, whose daughter he had erewhile wedded. When

the lord could have no tidings of his daughter, he was right sorrowful;

nevertheless he made good feast to Sir Robin, and bade thereto his

knights and his neighbours; and thither came Sir Raoul, who held the land

of Sir Robin wrongfully. Great was the joy that day and the morrow, and

that while Sir Robin told to John the occasion of the wager, and how Sir

Raoul held his land wrongfully. “Sir,” said John, “do thou appeal him of

treason, and I will do the battle for thee.” “Nay, John,” said Sir

Robin, “thou shalt not do it.”

So they left it till the morrow, when John came to Sir Robin and did him

to wit that he would speak to the father of his wife; and thus he said to

him: “Sir, thou art lord to my lord Sir Robin after God, and he wedded

thy daughter time was. But there was a wager betwixt him and Sir Raoul,

who said that he would make him cuckold by then he returned from St.

Jakeme; whereof Sir Raoul hath made false report, whereas he hath had nor

part nor lot in thy fair daughter. And he hath done disloyal treason.

All which things I am ready to prove on his body.” Then leapt forth Sir

Robin and said: “John, fair friend, none shall do the battle save I;

nowise shalt thou hang shield on neck herein.” Therewith Sir Robin

reached his pledge to his lord; and Sir Raoul was sore grieving of the

pledging, but needs must he defend him, or cry craven; so he reached for

this pledge right cowardly. So were the pledges given, and day of battle

appointed on that day fifteen days without naysay.

Now hear ye marvels of John what he did. John who had to name my Lady

Jehane, had in the house of her father a cousin germain of hers, who was

a fair damsel, and of some five and twenty years. Jehane came to her,

and laid all the whole truth bare to her, and told her the whole business

from point to point, and showed her all openly; and prayed her much that

she would hide all the matter until the time and hour came when she

should make herself known to her father. Wherefore her cousin, who knew

her well, said to her that she would keep all well hidden, so that by her

it should never be discovered. Then was the chamber of her cousin dight

for the Lady Jehane; and the said lady, the while of the fortnight before

the battle should be, let bathe her and stove her; and she took her ease

the best she might, as one who well had therewithal. And she let cut and

shape for her duly four pair of gowns, of Scarlet, of Vair, of Perse, and

of cloth of silk; and she took so well her ease that she came back to her

most beauty, and was so fair and dainty as no lady might be more.

But when it came to the end of the fifteen days, then was Sir Robin sore

grieving of John his esquire, because he had lost him, and knew not where

he was become. But none the more did he leave to apparel him for the

fight as one who had heart enough and hardihood.

On the morn of the day whenas the battle was appointed, came both the

knights armed. They drew apart one from the other, and then they fell on

each other with the irons of their glaives, and smote on each other with

so great heat that they bore down each other’s horses to the earth

beneath their bodies. Sir Raoul was hurt a little on the left side. Sir

Robin rose up the first, and came a great pace on Sir Raoul, and smote

him a great stroke on the helm in such wise that he beat down the

head-piece and drave in the sword on to the mail-coif, and sheared all

thereto; but the coif was of steel so strong that he wounded him not,

howbeit he made him to stagger, so that he caught hold of the arson of

the saddle; and if he had not, he had fallen to earth. Then Sir Raoul,

who was a good knight, smote Sir Robin so great a stroke upon the helm

that he all to astonied him; and the stroke fell down to the shoulder,

and sheared the mails of the hawberk, but hurt him not. Then Sir Robin

smote him with all his might, but he threw his shield betwixt, and Sir

Robin smote off a quarter thereof. When Sir Raoul felt his strong

strokes, he misdoubted him much, and wished well that he were over sea,

if he were but quit of the battle, and Sir Robin back on the land which

he held. Nevertheless he put forth all his might and drew nigh, and fell

on Sir Robin much hardly, and gave him a great stroke upon his shield so

that he sheared it to the boss thereof. But Sir Robin laid a great

stroke upon his helm, but he threw his shield betwixt and Sir Robin

sheared it amidst, and the sword fell upon the neck of the horse, and

sheared it amidst, and beat down straightway both horse and man. Then

Sir Raoul leapt to his feet, as one who was in a stour exceeding heavy.

Then Sir Robin lighted down, whereas he would not betake him to his horse

while the other was afoot.

Now were both knights come unto the skirmish and they hewed in pieces

each other’s shields and helms and haw—berks, and drew the blood from

each other’s bodies with their trenchant swords; and had they smitten as

great strokes as at first, soon had they slain each other, for they had

so little of their shields that scarce might they cover their fists

therewith. Yet had neither of them fear of death or shame: nevertheless

the nighness of them to each other called on them to bring the battle to

an end. Sir Robin took his sword in both hands, and smote Sir Raoul with

all his might on the helm, and sheared it amidst, so that one half

thereof fell upon the shoulders, and he sheared the steel coif, and made

him a great wound on the head; and Sir Raoul was so astonied of the

stroke that he bent him to the earth on one knee; but he rose up

straightway and was in great misease when he thus saw his head naked, and

great fear of death he had. But he came up to Sir Robin and fetched a

stroke with all his might on what he had of shield and he sheared it

asunder and the stroke came on the helm and cut into it well three

fingers, so that the sword came on the iron coif, which was right good,

so that the sword brake a-twain. When Sir Raoul saw his sword broken and

his head naked, he doubted much the death. Nevertheless he stooped down

to the earth, and took up a great stone in his two hands, and cast it

after Sir Robin with all his might; but Sir Robin turned aside when he

saw the stone coming, and ran on Sir Raoul, who took to flight all over

the field; and Sir Robin said to him that he would slay him but if he

cried craven. Whereon Sir Raoul thus bespake him: mercy on me, gentle

knight, and ere my sword, so much as I have thereof, and I render it to

thee, and all of me therewith unto thy mercy; and I pray thee have pity

of me, and beg of thy lord and mine to have mercy on me and that thou and

he save my life, and I render and give both thy land and mine. For I

have held it against right and against reason. And I have wrongfully

defamed the fair lady and good.

When Sir Robin heard this, he said that he had done enough, and he prayed

his lord so much that he pardoned Sir Raoul of his misdeed, in such wise

that he was quit thereof on the condition that he should go over seas and

abide there lifelong.

Thuswise conquered Sir Robin his land and the land of Sir Raoul to boot

for all his days. But he was so sore grieving and sad at heart of his

good dame and fair, whom he had thus lost, that he could have no solace;

and on the other hand, he was so sore grieving for John his esquire whom

he had so lost, that marvel it was. And his lord was no less sad at

heart for his fair daughter whom he had thus lost, and of whom he might

have no tidings.

But dame Jehane, who was in the chamber of her cousin germain for fifteen

days in good ease, when she wotted that her lord had vanquished the

battle, was exceeding much at ease. Now she had done make four pair of

gowns, as is aforesaid, and she clad her with the richest of them which

was of silk bended of fine gold of Araby. Moreover she was so fair of

body and of visage, and so dainty withal, that nought in the world might

be found fairer, so that her cousin germain all marvelled at her great

beauty. And she had been bathed, and attired and had ease at all points

for the fifteen days, so that she was come into so great beauty as wonder

was. Much fair was the Lady Jehane in her gown of silk bended of gold.

So she called her cousin to her and said: “How deemest thou of me?”

“What, dame!” said her cousin, “thou art the fairest lady of the world.”

“I shall tell thee, then, fair cousin, what thou shalt do: go thou tell

so much before my father as that he shall make dole no more, but be glad

and joyful, and that thou bearest him good news of his daughter who is

whole and well; and that he come with thee and thou wilt show him. Then

bring him hither, and meseemeth he will see me with a good will.” The

damsel said that she would well do that errand and she came to the father

of the Lady Jehane, and said him what his daughter had said. When her

sire heard thereof great wonder he wist it, and went with the damsel, and

found his daughter in her chamber, and knew her straightway, and put his

arms about her neck, and wept over her for joy and pity, and had so great

joy that scarce might he speak to her. Then he asked her where she had

been so long a while. “Fair father,” said she, “thou shalt know it well

anon. But a-God’s sake do my lady mother to come to me, for I have great

longing to see her.” The lord sent for his wife, and when she came into

the chamber where was her daughter, and saw her and knew her, she swooned

for joy, and might not speak a great while, and when she came out of her

swooning none might believe the great joy that she made of her daughter.

But whiles they were in this joy, the father of the fair lady went to

seek Sir Robin and bespake him thus: “Sir Robin, fair sweet son, tidings

can I say thee exceeding joyous us between.” “Certes,” said Sir Robin,

“of joy have I great need, for none save God can set rede to it whereby I

may have joy. For I have lost thy fair daughter, whereof have I sore

grief at heart. And thereto have I lost the swain and the squire, who of

all in the world hath done me most good; to wit, John the good, my

squire.” “Sir Robin,” said the lord, “be ye nought dismayed thereof, for

of squires thou shalt find enough. But of my fair daughter I could tell

thee good tidings; for I have seen her e’en now; and, wot ye well, she is

the fairest lady that may be in the world.” When Sir Robin heard that,

he trembled all with joy and said to his lord: “Ah, sir, for God’s sake

bring me where I may see if this be true!” “With a good will,” said the

lord; “come along now.”

The lord went before and he after, till I they were come to the chamber,

where the mother was yet making great feast of her daughter, and they

were weeping with joy one over the other. But when they saw their

rightful lords a-coming, they rose up; and so soon as Sir Robin knew his

wife, he ran to her with his arms spread abroad, and they clipped and

kissed together dearly, and wept of joy and pity; and they were thus

embracing together for the space of the running of ten acres, or ever

they might sunder. Then the lord commanded the tables to be laid for

supper, and they supped and made great joy.

After supper, when the feast had been right great, they went to bed, and

Sir Robin lay that night with the Lady Jehane his wife, who made him

great joy, and he her in likewise; and they spake together of many

things, and so much that Sir Robin asked of her where she had been; and

she said: “Sir, long were it to tell, but thou shalt know it well in

time. Now tell to me what thou couldest to do, and where thou hast been

so long a while.” “Lady,” said Sir Robin, “that will I well tell thee.”

So he fell to telling her all that she well knew, and of John his

esquire, who had done him so much good, and said that he was so troubled

whereas he had thus lost him, that he would make never an end of

wandering till he had found him, and that he would bestir himself thereto

the morrow’s morn. “Sir,” said the lady, “that were folly; and how

should it be then; wouldst thou leave me, then?” “Forsooth, dame,” said

he, “e’en so it behoveth me. For none did ever so much for another as he

did for me.” “Sir,” said the dame, “wherein he did for thee, he did but

duly. Even so he was bound to do.” “Dame,” said Sir Robin, “by what

thou sayest thou shouldst know him.” “Forsooth,” said the lady, “I

should ought to know him well, for never did he anything whereof I wotted

not.” “Lady,” said Sir Robin, “thou makest me to marvel at thy words.”

“Sir,” said the lady, “never marvel thou hereof! If I tell thee a word

for sooth and for certain, wilt thou not believe me?” “Dame,” said he,

“yea, verily.”

“Well, then, believe me in this,” said she; “for wot of a verity that I

am the very same John whom thou wouldest go seek, and I will tell thee

how. For I knew that thou wert gone for the great sorrow thou hadst for

my misdoing against thee, and for thy land which thou deemedst thou hadst

lost for ever. Whereas I had heard tell of the occasion of the wager,

and of the treason Sir Raoul had done, whereof I was so wroth as never

woman was more wroth. Straightway I let shear my hair, and took the

money in my coffer, about ten pounds of Tournais, and arrayed me like an

esquire, and followed thee away to Paris, and found thee at the tomb of

Ysore; and there I fell into company with thee, and we went together into

Marseilles, and were there together seven years long, where I served thee

unto my power as my rightful lord, and I hold for well spent all the

service that I did thee. And know of a truth that I am innocent and just

of that which the evil knight laid upon me; as well appeareth whereas he

hath been shamed in the field, and hath acknowledged the treason.”

Therewith my lady Jehane embraced Sir Robin, her lord, and kissed him on

the mouth right sweetly; for Sir Robin understood well that it was she

that had so well served him; and so great joy he had, that none could say

it or think it; and much he wondered in his heart how she could think to

do that which so turned to her great goodness. Wherefore he loved her

the more all the days of his life.

Thus were these two good persons together; and they went to dwell upon

their land, which they had both wide and fair. Good life they led as for

young folk who loved dearly together. Sir Robin went often to tournays

with his lord, of whose mesney he was, and much worship he won, and great

prize he conquered and great wealth, and did so much that he gat him as

much land again as he had had. And when the lord and his lady were dead,

then had he all the land. And he did so well by his prowess that he was

made a double banneret, and he had well four thousand pounds of land.

But never might he have child by his wife, whereof he was much grieved.

Thus was he with his wife for ten years after he had conquered the battle

with Sir Raoul.

After the term of ten years, by the will of God, to whom we be all

subject, the pain of death took hold of him, and he died like a valiant

man, and had all his rights, and was laid in earth with great worship.

His wife the fair lady made so great sorrow over him, that all they that

saw her had pity of her; but in the end needs must she forget her

mourning and take comfort, for as little as it were. Much abode the lady

in her widowhood as a good dame and a holy, for she loved much God and

Holy Church. She held her much humbly and much she loved the poor, and

did them much good, and was so good a lady that none knew how to blame

her or to say of her aught save great good. Therewithal was she so fair,

that each one said who saw her, that she was the mirror of all ladies in

the world for beauty and goodness. But here leaveth the tale a little to

speak of her, and returneth to tell of the King Florus, of whom it hath

been silent a great while.

For saith the tale, that King Florus of Ausay was in his own country sore

grieving, and ill at ease for the departure of his first wife.

Notwithstanding the other was brought unto him, and was both fair and

dainty, but he could not hold her in his heart like as he did the first

one. Four years was he with her, but never child might he have of her;

and when the said time was ended the pains of death took the a lady, and

she was buried, whereof her friends were sore grieving. But service was

done unto her, as was meet to a queen.

Then abode King Florus in widowhood more than two years, and he was still

a young man, whereas he was not of more than five-and-forty winters,

wherefore the barons said to him that he behoved to marry again.

“Forsooth,” said King Florus, “so to do have I no great longing, for two

wives have I had, and never child might I have by either. And on the

other hand, the first that I had was so good and so fair, and so much I

loved her in my heart for the great beauty that was in her, that I may

not forget her. And I tell you well that never woman will I wed but may

have her as fair and as good as was she. Now may God have mercy on her

soul, for she hath passed away in the abbey where she was, as folk have

done me to wit.” “Ha, sir,” said a knight, who was of his privy counsel,

“there be many good dames up and down the country side, of whom ye know

not all; and I know one who hath not for goodness and beauty her peer in

the world. And if thou knew her goodness, and saw but her beauty, thou

wouldst say well that happy were the king who held the danger of such a

lady. And wot well that she is a gentle lady, and valiant, and rich, and

of great lands. And I will tell thee a part of her goodness so please

thee.”

So the king said that he would well he should tell him. Wherefore the

knight fell to telling how she had bestirred her to go seek her lord, and

how she found him and brought him to Marseilles, and the great goodness

and great services which she did him, even as the tale hath told afore,

so that King Florus wondered much thereat; and he said to the knight

privily that such a woman he would take with a good will.

“Sir,” said the knight, who was of the country of the lady, “I will go to

her, if it please thee, and I will so speak to her, if I may, that the

marriage of you two shall be made.” “Yea,” said King Florus, “I will

well that thou go, and I pray thee to give good heed to the business.”

So the knight bestirred him, and went so much by his journeys that he

came to the country where dwelt the fair dame, whom the tale calleth my

Lady Jehane, and found her abiding at a castle of hers, and she made him

great joy, as one whom she knew. The knight drew her to privy talk, and

told her of King Florus of Ausay, how he bade her come unto him that he

might take her to wife. When the lady heard the knight so speak, she

began to smile, which beseemed her right well, and she said to the

knight: “Thy king is neither so well learned, nor so courteous as I had

deemed, whereas he biddeth me come to him and he will take me to wife:

forsooth, I am no wageling of him to go at his command. But say to thy

king, that, so please him, he come to me, if he prize me so much and

loveth me, and it seem good to him that I take him to husband and spouse,

for the lords ought to beseech the ladies, and not ladies the lords.”

“Lady,” said the knight, “all that thou hast said to me, I will tell him

straight; but I doubt that he hold not with pride.” “Sir knight,” said

the lady, “he shall take what heed thereof may please him but in the

matter whereof I have spoken to thee, he hath neither courtesy nor

reason.” “Lady,” said the knight, “so be it, a-God’s name! And I will

get me gone, with thy leave, to my lord the king, and will tell him what

thou hast told me. And if thou wilt give me any word more, now tell it

me.” “Yea,” said the lady, “tell him that I send him greeting, and that

I can him much good will for the honour he biddeth me.”

So the knight departed therewith from the lady, and came the fourth day

thereafter to King Florus of Ausay, and found him in his chamber, whereas

he was speaking with his privy counsel. The knight greeted the king, who

returned the greeting, and made him sit by his side, and asked tidings of

the fair lady, and he told all her message how she would not come to him,

whereas she was not his wageling to come at his command: for that lords

are bound to beseech ladies how she had given him word that she sent him

greeting, and could him goodwill for the honour he bade her. When the

King Florus had heard these words, he fell a-pondering, and spake no word

for a great while.

“Sir,” said a knight who was of his most privity, “what ponderest thou so

much? Forsooth, all these words well befit a good lady and wise to say;

and so, may help me God, she is both wise and valiant. Wherefore I

counsel thee in good faith that thou look to a day when thou canst be

there; that thou send greeting to her that thou wilt be there on such day

to do her honour, and take her to wife.” “Forsooth,” said King Florus,

“I will send word that I will be there in the month of Paske, and that

she apparel her to receive such a man as I be.” Then said King Florus to

the knight who had been to the lady, that within three days he should go

his ways to tell the lady these tidings. So on the third day the knight

departed, and went so much that he came to the lady, and said that the

king sent word that he would be with her in the month of Paske; and she

answered that it was so by God’s will, and that she would speak with her

friends, and that she would be arrayed to do his will as the honour of a

good lady called on her. After these words departed the knight, and came

to his lord King Florus, and told him the answer of the fair lady, as ye

have heard it. So King Florus of Ausay dight his departure, and went his

ways with a right great folk to come to the country of the fair lady; and

when he was come thither, he took her and wedded her, and had great joy

and great feast thereof. Then he led her into his country where folk

made exceeding great joy of her. But King Florus loved her much for her

great beauty, and for the great wit and great valiancy that was in her.

And within the year that he had taken her to wife, she was big with

child, and she bore the fruit of her belly so long as right was, and was

delivered of a daughter first, and of a son thereafter, who had to name

Florence and the daughter had to name Floria. And the child Florence was

exceeding fair, and when he was a knight he was the best that knew arms

in his time, so that he was chosen to be Emperor of Constantinople. A

much valiant man was he, and wrought much wrack and dole on the Saracens.

But the daughter became queen of the land of her father, and the son of

the King of Hungary took her to wife, and lady she was of two realms.

This great honour gave God to the fair lady for the goodness of her and

her loyalty. A great while abode King Florus with that fair lady; and

when it pleased God that his time came, he had such goodly knowledge that

God had in him a fair soul. Thereafter the lady lived but a half year,

and passed away from the world as one good and loyal, and had fair end

and good knowledge.

Here endeth the tale of King Florus and the Fair Jehane.