How Sir Folko fought with an old woman, and broke her
stand of crockery-ware.
The voyage of Sir Folko de Montfaucon, and the two rescued damsels,
was, alas! far different from that of the emir and Bertha von
Lichtenried. No sooner had they lost sight of Carthagena, than the
ocean-waves rose wildly against them, so that it was not without
vehement struggles that they were able to reach the straits that divide
Africa from Spain;--nay, when they tried to tack right over from
Gibraltar’s high cliffs, in order that they might steer for Gascony,
there arose such a terrible whirlwind, that Hernandez lost all command
of his vessel. Fortunately, however, there were no rocks near enough to
split against; but they were driven far out into the desolate sea, and
there tost about so long, that, from the want of sufficient food and
water, they were threatened with starvation, till, for the sake of the
poor suffering damsels, they were glad at last to find a harbour, at
an island which seemed uninhabited, and for which not one of the whole
party knew even a name.
On this lonely strand, while Sir Folko, Don Hernandez, and the Count
Vinciguerra, were busily employed in building a cottage to shelter
the ladies, collecting rushes for the roof and soft moss for their
beds;--in short, all that knightly gallantry would at such a time have
achieved, the merchant Theobaldo amused himself all day long with the
Magic Ring, enticing, by its strange and varied music, all the beasts
of the forest, even the seals, sea-calves, and sea-horses, from the
ocean around him, and at times laughing aloud at their strange dances
and gambols. Sir Folko and Don Hernandez felt themselves roused to
the utmost disdain and anger, because, for the sake of these silly
diversions, Theobaldo should have neglected wholly the service of the
two ladies that were intrusted to their care; and, as he now frequently
brought the howling wild beasts and awkward sea-calves into the
presence of Blanchefleur and Gabrielle, who were thereby disturbed and
terrified, they resolved, whatever the consequences might be, to put
an end to such conduct. After an adventure of this kind, the Knight
of Montfaucon stepped forward, placed himself right before Theobaldo,
and looked at the merchant steadfastly, with gleaming, wrathful eyes.
The chevalier had now resumed his glittering armour, and looked so
formidable, that the merchant, though wishing to conceal his agitation,
could not help feeling embarrassed, and fixing his eyes on the ground.
At length he said,--“What means all this?--You wish, perchance, to play
the part of an old statue of Roland in the market-place, as you stand
there so stern and motionless?”--“That is not my design,” answered Sir
Folko; “but it shall be proved ere long how I shall deal with you, if
your behaviour should not be more circumspect and quiet for the future.”
“Ay, forsooth!” said Theobaldo, in his usual tone of calm defiance, “it
might be as well to inquire first how I shall deal with you and all
your party, if the question--‘Who is master?’--comes to be tried among
us.”
“Sir,” answered De Montfaucon, in a tone of indifference and
resolution, “you have indeed rescued my life, and have assisted much
towards the rescue of these noble ladies;--through the ring, too, you
are brought into possession of many powerful spells. For such reasons,
however, you must not suppose that you can make game at will of a
French baron and banneret, far less of the damsels who are now under
his protection. In short, if you dare to terrify them once more with
your abominable dances of wild beasts and fishes, then remember your
own life is at stake, or, peradventure, the question to be determined
is, Whether my sword or your witchcraft will obtain the victory?--The
trial shall be made, however; on that score you can have no doubt.”
“--Nay,” said Theobaldo, “I doubt not that your words would amply be
made good; and it is, methinks, far better for us both if we should not
bring it to the proof which of us is destined to bear the upper hand
in conflict. Be satisfied then, and forgive me; for that of which you
complain shall not happen again.”--Thereupon Sir Folko was appeased,
and shook hands with Theobaldo; nor were the ladies ever more terrified
by the dancing beasts and sea-monsters.
Not long after these events, the skies became once more free from
clouds, and Don Hernandez gave orders to heave anchor, that they might
pursue their voyage. At first the winds were favourable, and they
doubted not that they should happily arrive at the destined port; but
scarcely had they again reached the Straits of Gibraltar, when there
arose of new, a frightful tempest, forcing the vessel back into the
narrow seas, and driving it violently past Carthagena, towards Malaga;
nor did the storm abate till they found themselves opposite to the
coast of Genoa. The condition of the ship, now almost a wreck, and
the distress of the two ladies, left them no choice. They resolved to
cast anchor in the harbour of Genoa, and follow out the rest of their
journey by land.
Scarcely had the damsels been safely lodged in a pleasant mansion at
this town, and the requisite clothes, armour, and other necessaries
been brought from the vessel, when the Knight of Montfaucon made a
signal that Theobaldo should speak with him in a retired street of
that city.--“Now,” said the knight, “confess freely, that we have
been forced hither by your agency;--that you have all this while
played your pranks for your own diversion and our annoyance;--in
short, that, by means of your Magic Ring, you have raised the storm
that always opposed us when we drew near Gibraltar!”--“Why then did
you not address these questions to me when we were on board ship?”
said Theobaldo; “then, perhaps, there had been time to make up for
whatever faults I had committed.”--“I know not whether you now speak
in mockery or earnest,” answered Sir Folko; “and, in truth, with such
people one cannot expect to fare better. However, this is of little
consequence; but, for my own part, I answer you in right earnest. Mark
you!--whilst we were at sea, your sorcery and witchcraft might have
been carried much farther, and the ladies who were under our protection
might have perished thereby. Now, however, you have to deal with me
alone, and I speak with you even as one Christian knight with another.
Have you then, by your incantations, made game of us, and led us thus
astray?”--“Not as a knight, but as an honest merchant, I answer you,”
said Theobaldo, “that I did conjure up the storms by which our ship
was driven on the wild waves; not, however, because I wished to make
game of you for my own diversion, but because I had firmly resolved in
my own mind, that it was better to land at Genoa than on the shores
of France.”--“In Genoa, perchance, you may fare but hardly, sir
merchant,” answered De Montfaucon, glancing at his sword; “though the
first question may be, whether you have honour and courage enough to
defend your own actions?”--“As to what you are pleased to call honour,”
said Theobaldo, “I trouble myself little about the matter; but, as to
my courage, it has been proved already, and may be proved again on
occasions more important than any that are likely to occur at this
time.”--“A pitiful excuse!” said Sir Folko; “the veriest coward or
deserter has it in his power to speak as thou hast done. Without more
circumlocution, however, be condescending enough to come straightway
to the mark, and answer, whether thou art now willing to walk with me
into one of the gardens by which we are here surrounded, and wherein
we may quietly measure swords together, until one or other measures,
with his own lifeless body, the ground that is to serve him for a
grave?”--“Right willingly,” answered the merchant: “we shall soon find
a fitting place for this encounter;--only follow me.”
Hereupon the merchant walked rapidly away, and the knight followed him
with impatient strides. Ere long, however, it seemed to De Montfaucon
as if he heard the voice of Theobaldo calling to him from behind; and,
on looking round, he saw, to his utter confusion, that the merchant was
also there. Nay, at the same moment, there started into life an hundred
more shadows of the same figure, that grinned at him from windows
of the neighbouring houses, and threatened him, sword in hand, from
across the railing of the gardens; but though these might be shadows,
yet in no one circumstance could they be distinguished from the true
Theobaldo; so that, in his amazement, the knight wheeled round and
round, not knowing whom he was to attack, till at last some one laughed
aloud,--“Now, sir knight,” cried the voice, “you find that there are
too many of us even for the Chevalier de Montfaucon to encounter, and
your honour and courage may for this time go to sleep!”--Thereupon,
in overpowering rage, the knight struck with his heavy sword at the
phantom who had thus addressed him.--“Madman--madman! what wouldst
thou do?--Alas, for my beautiful jars and pots!” cried a shrill voice
beside him, and immediately all the Theobaldos had vanished away. The
chevalier found himself opposite to an old woman, having broken, with
one blow of his sword, her whole stand of crockery-ware. Indignant more
than ever at the insolent mockeries of the merchant, he threw at her
some gold coins, whereat the old woman’s lamentations were changed
into gratitude and joy; then proceeded on his way to the house which
had been provided for the two damsels.