admitted. All the lords and ladies looked at him scornfully because he
wore plain black armor with nothing painted upon his shield. As he had
not worn spurs, he was not yet a knight. Guy entered the lists and
met and conquered Prince Philaner, the Emperor's son, Duke Otto, Duke
Ranier, and Duke Louvain.
Guy took the prize offered with the exception of the hand of Blanche.
"For my fair Phyllis alone I keep my love," he said.
Guy went back to England and heard that a terrible dun-colored cow had
appeared in Warwickshire. It was twelve feet high and eighteen feet
long. Its horns were thicker than an elephant's tusks curled and
twisted. The King said that whoever would kill the Dun Cow should be
made a knight and receive a great deal of land and money. Guy went out
to meet him and after a fearful encounter was able to deal a deathblow
with his battle-axe behind the beast's ear.
Then the King gave the new knight a pair of golden spurs, and Lady
Phyllis fastened them on. In memory of Guy's deed one rib of the Dun
Cow was hung up at the gate of Coventry and another in the Castle of
Warwick.
II
TRAVELS AND DEEDS IN MANY LANDS
Guy next went to France, where he was wounded at a tournament. His
enemy, Duke Otto, bribed fifteen villains to lie in wait, take him and
cast him into prison. With the help of his friend Heraud, Guy was able
to slay them all, but one of the traitor men smote Heraud so hard that
he fell to the ground as if dead.
One day news was brought to Guy that Ledgwin of Louvain was shut up
in his city of Arrascoun sore beset by the Emperor. Gathering his
soldiers and knights together he set out to help his friend and was
overjoyed to find Heraud in the guise of a pilgrim sitting by the
roadside. Heraud had been nursed back to health by a kind hermit. At
once he put on armor and rode forth with Guy to the city of Arrascoun
to release Ledgwin. There was a great battle but the Almains who
surrounded the city were defeated and the Emperor yielded and forgave
Ledgwin.
While in Greece, Guy went out hunting and came upon a most wonderful
sight, a conflict between a lion and a dragon. Just when the dragon
was about to crush the lion Guy drew his sword, and setting spurs
to his horse, sprang upon the dragon. The fight was then between
the dragon and Guy. It seemed at first that the dragon would be the
victor, but, like a flash, Guy leaped from his horse and plunged his
sword deep into the brute's side. For a moment his speckled crest
quivered, then all was still.
Guy thought he would have to kill the lion too, but as it came near
it licked Guy's feet and fawned upon him, purring softly like a great
pussy-cat. When Guy rode back the lion trotted after him and lived
with him every day.
Guy had an enemy at court, Morgadour, who hated the brave knight and
said, "I cannot kill thee, Guy of Warwick, but I will grieve thee. I
will kill thy lion." This he did in secret. The King was angry when
the deed was discovered and told Guy to meet him in combat, which he
did, and slew Morgadour.
Laden with riches, Guy reached home again, this time to marry the
beautiful Phyllis. There was a great and splendid wedding. For fifteen
days the feasting and merriment lasted.
For some time Guy and Phyllis lived happily together. Then one sad day
Earl Rohand died and Guy became Earl of Warwick.
As the new earl was one day thinking of his past life, it seemed to
him that he had caused much bloodshed. Thereupon he decided to go to
the Holy Land, and there, at the Sepulcher of our Lord, do penance for
his sins. Phyllis begged him to stay; but Guy said, "I must go." So,
dressed in pilgrim robes, with staff in hand he set out on his long
journey.
One day as he walked he came upon an old man who was sad because the
giant Ameraunt was keeping his daughter and fifteen sons in a strong
castle. "I am Earl Jonas of Durras," he said, "and I seek Guy of
Warwick to help me."
Guy said if the earl would give him meat and drink, weapons and armor,
he would see what he could do.
A splendid coat of mail was brought with shield and sword. Guy called
to the giant to come forth. "That will I," replied the giant, "and
make short work with thee."
Ameraunt stalked forth and the fight began. All day it lasted before
Guy with his sword cut the giant's head off.
Taking the keys of the castle, which lay on the ground, he immediately
released Earl of Jonas's children and other noble knights and brave
ladies.
Putting off his armor, he dressed himself once more in his pilgrim's
robe, and with his staff in his hand set out again upon his journey.
III
HOW GUY FOUGHT WITH THE GIANT COLBRAND
For some time after Guy went away Phyllis was very sorrowful. She wept
and mourned, and was so sad that she longed to die. At times she even
thought of killing herself. She would draw out Guy's great sword,
which he had left behind, and think how easy it would be to run
it through her heart. But she remembered that the good fairies had
promised to send her a little son, and so she made up her mind to live
until he came. When the good fairies brought the baby she called
him Reinbroun, and he was so pretty and so dear that Phyllis was
comforted.
Then, because her lord was far away, and could not attend to his great
lands nor to the ruling of his many servants, Phyllis did so for
him. She ruled and ordered her household well; she made new roads and
rebuilt bridges which had been broken down. She journeyed through all
the land, seeing that wrong was made right and evildoers punished.
She fed the poor, tended the sick, and comforted those in sorrow, and,
besides all this, she built great churches and abbeys.
So year after year passed, but still Guy did not return. All day
Phyllis was busy and had no time for grief, but when evening came she
would go to pace up and down the path (which to this day is called
"Fair Phyllis's Walk") where she and Guy had often walked together.
Now as she wandered there alone, the hot, slow tears would come, and
she would feel miserable and forsaken.
At last, after many years full of adventures and travel, Guy reached
England once more. He was now an old man. His beard was long, his
hair had grown white, and in the weather-beaten pilgrim none could
recognize the gallant knight and earl, Guy of Warwick.
When Guy landed in England he found the whole country in sore dread.
For Anlaf, King of Denmark, had invaded England with a great army.
With fire and sword he had wasted the land, sparing neither tower nor
town, man, woman, nor child, but destroying all that came in his path.
Fight how they might, the English could not drive out the Danes.
Now they were in deep despair, for the enemy lay before the King's
city of Winchester. With them was a terrible giant called Colbrand,
and Anlaf had sent a message to King Athelstane, as the King who now
reigned over all England was called, demanding that he should either
find a champion to fight with Colbrand or deliver over his kingdom.
So the King had sent messengers north, south, east, and west, but in
all the land no knight could be found who was brave enough to face the
awful giant. And now within the great church of Winchester the King
with his priests and people knelt, praying God to send a champion.
"Where, then, is Heraud?" asked Guy of the man who told this tale.
"Where is Heraud, who never yet forsook man in need?"
"Alas! he has gone far beyond the seas," replied the man, "and so has
Guy of Warwick. We know not where they are."
Then Guy took his staff and turned his steps toward Winchester. Coming
there, he found the King sitting among his wise men. "I bid you," he
was saying to them, "give me some counsel how I may defend my country
against the Danes. Is there any knight among you who will fight this
giant? Half my kingdom he shall have, and that gladly, if he conquer."
But all the wise men, knights and nobles, stood silent and looked upon
the ground.
"Oh, we is me!" then cried the King, "that I rule over such cowards.
To what have my English come that I may not find one knight among
them bold enough to do battle for his King and country? Oh that Guy of
Warwick were here!"
Then through the bright crowd of steel-clad nobles there came a tall
old man, dressed in a worn, dark, pilgrim's robe, with bare feet and
head, and a staff in his hand.
"My Lord King," he said, "I will fight for thee."
"Thou," said the King in astonishment, "thou seemest more fit to pray
than to fight for us."
"Believe me, my Lord King," said Guy, for of course it was he, "this
hand has often held a sword, and never yet have I been worsted in
fight."
"Then since there is none other," said the King, "fight, and God
strengthen thee."
Now Guy was very tall, and no armor could be found anywhere to fit
him. "Send to the Countess of Warwick," said Guy at last. "Ask her to
lend the earl's weapons and armor for the saving of England."
"That is well thought of," said the King.
So a swift messenger was sent to Warwick Castle, and he presently
returned with Guy's armor. He at once put it on, and the people
marveled that it should fit him so well, for none knew, or guessed,
that the pilgrim was Guy himself.
Guy went then out to meet the giant, and all the people crowded to the
walls of Winchester to watch their champion fight.
Colbrand came forth. He was so huge that no horse could carry him,
and he wore a whole wagon-load of weapons. His armor was pitch-black
except his shield, which was blood-red and had a white owl painted
upon it. He was a fearsome sight to look upon, and as he strode along
shaking his spear every one trembled for Guy.
It was a terrible and unequal fight. Tall though Guy was, he could
reach no higher than the giant's shoulder with his spear, but yet he
wounded him again and again.
"I have never fought with any like thee," cried Colbrand. "Yield,
and I will ask King Anlaf to make thee a general in the Danish army.
Castle and tower shalt thou have, and everything that thou canst
desire, if thou but do as I counsel thee."
"Better death than that," replied Guy, and still fought on. At last,
taking his battle-axe in both hands, he gave Colbrand such a blow that
his sword dropped to the ground. As the giant reeled under the stroke,
Guy raised his battle-axe once more.
"His good axe he reared on high
With both hands full mightily;
He smote him in the neck so well,
That the head flew that very deal.
The giant dead on the earth lay;
The Danes made great sorrow that day."
Seeing their champion fall, the Danes fled to their ships. England was
saved.
Then out of the city came all the people with the priests and King in
great procession, and singing hymns of praise as they went, they led
Guy back.
The King brought Guy to his palace and offered him splendid robes and
great rewards, even to the half of the kingdom. But Guy would have
none of them. "Give me my pilgrim's dress again," he said. And, in
spite of all the King could say, he put off his fine armor and dressed
himself again in his dark pilgrim's robe.
"Tell me at least thy name," said the King, "so that the minstrels
may sing of thy great deeds, and that in years to come the people may
remember and bless thee."
"Bless God, not me," replied Guy. "He it was gave me strength and
power against the giant."
"Then if thou wilt not that the people know," said the King, "tell thy
name to me alone."
"So be it," said Guy. "Walk with me half a mile out of the city, thou
and I alone. Then will I tell thee my name."
So the King in his royal robes, and the pilgrim in his dull, dark
gown, passed together out of the city gate. When they had gone half a
mile, Guy stood still. "Sire," he said, "thou wouldst know my name. I
am Guy of Warwick, thine own knight. Once thou didst love me well, now
I am as thou dost see me."
At first the King could hardly believe that this poor man was really
the great Earl of Warwick, but when he became sure of it he threw his
arms round Guy and kissed him. "Dear friend, we have long mourned for
thee as dead," he cried. "Now thou wilt come with me and help me to
rule, and I will honor thee above all men."
But Guy would not go back. He made the King promise to tell no man who
he was. This he did for the sake of the oath which he had sworn, that
he would never again fight for glory but only for a righteous cause.
Then once more they kissed, and each turned his own way, the King
going sadly back to Winchester.
As he entered the gates the people crowded round him, eager to know
who the pilgrim was. But King Athelstane held up his hand. "Peace," he
said, "I indeed know, but I may not tell you. Go to your homes, thank
God for your deliverance, and pray for him who overcame the giant."
IV
HOW AT LAST GUY WENT HOME
After Guy left the King, he journeyed on towards Warwick. And when he
came to the town over which he was lord and master no one knew him. So
he mixed with the poor men who came every morning to the castle gates
to receive food from the countess.
Guy listened to what those round him said. He heard them praise and
bless Phyllis, calling her the best woman that had ever lived, and his
heart was glad.
Pale and trembling, Guy bent before his wife, to receive food from her
hands. He was so changed that even she did not know him, but she felt
very sorry for the poor man who seemed so thin and worn, so she spoke
kindly to him and gave him more food than the others, and told him to
come every day as long as he lived.
Guy thanked her, and turned slowly away. He remembered that a hermit
lived in a cave not far off, and to him he went. But when he reached
the cave he found it empty. The hermit had been dead many years.
Guy then made up his mind to live in the cave. Every morning he went
to the castle to receive food from Phyllis. But he would only take
the simplest things, often eating nothing but bread and drinking water
from the spring which flowed near.
Every evening Guy could hear Phyllis as she paced to and fro, for
her walk was not far from the hermit's cave. But still some strange
enchantment, as it were, held him dumb, and although he still loved
her, although he knew that she sorrowed and longed for him to return
home, he could not say, "I am here."
At last one day Guy became very ill. He had no longer strength to go
to the castle, so calling a passing countryman to him, he gave him a
ring. It was the ring which Phyllis had given him, and which he had
kept ever with him through all his pilgrimage. "Take this," he said
to the countryman, "and carry it to Fair Phyllis, the Countess of
Warwick."
But the countryman was afraid. "I have never spoken to a great lady,
and I do not know how to address her," he said. "Besides she may be
angry with me, and I shall get into trouble if I carry a ring to the
earl's wife."
"Do not fear," said Guy, "the countess will not be angry; rather will
she reward thee. Tell her to come hastily or I die."
So the countryman took the ring, and, coming to the countess fell upon
his knees. "Lady," he said, "a pilgrim who lives yonder in the forest
sends thee this ring."
Phyllis took the ring, and, as she looked at it, a strange light
came into her eyes. Like one in a dream she passed her hand over
her forehead. "It is mine own lord, Sir Guy," she cried, and fell
senseless to the ground.
The countryman was much frightened, but her ladies ran to the countess
and raised her, and soon she opened her eyes.
"Friend," she said to the countryman, "tell me where is he who gave
thee this ring?"
"He is in the hermit's cave," replied the man, "and he bade me to say
that thou must hasten ere he die."
Right glad was Phyllis at the thought of seeing Guy again, yet
sorrowful lest she should find him dead. So, calling for her mule,
she mounted and rode speedily towards the cave, the countryman running
before to show the way.
And when they came to the cave Phyllis went in, and kneeling beside
Guy, put her arms round him, crying bitterly. "Dear," he said, "weep
not, for I go where sorrows end." Then
"He kissed her fair and courteously,
With that he died hastily."
There was sorrow through all the land when it was known that Guy, the
great hero, was dead. He was buried with much pomp and ceremony, the
King and Queen, and all the greatest nobles of the land, coming to
the funeral. And Phyllis, not caring to live longer, now that she knew
that Guy was indeed dead, died too, and they were both buried in the
same grave.
Then minstrels sang of Guy's valiant deeds, and of how he had slain
giants and dragons, and of how he might have been an emperor and
a king over many lands, and how he was ever a gentle and courteous
knight.
"Thus endeth the tale of Sir Guy:
God, on his soul have mercy,
And on ours when we be dead,
And grant us in heaven to have stead."
If you ever go to Warwick you will see, in the castle there, Guy's
sword and armor. Wise people will tell you that they never belonged
to Guy, but to some other men who lived much later. Well, perhaps they
are right.
Then, when you are at Warwick, you must go to Guy's Cliff, which is
about a mile and a half away. There, in the chapel, is a statue of
Guy, very old and broken.
You will also see there Fair Phyllis's Walk, the spring from which Guy
used to drink, still called Guy's Well, and the cave where he lived as
a hermit, and where he died.
Upon the walls of the cave is some writing. You will not be able to
read it, for it is Saxon, but it means, "Cast out, Thou Christ, from
Thy servant this burden."
Did Guy, I wonder, or some other, in days of loneliness and despair,
carve these words?
If you ask why Guy did these things--why, when he was happy and had
everything he could desire, he threw away that happiness, and wandered
out into the world to endure hunger, and weariness, and suffering--or
why, when at last he came back and found his beautiful wife waiting
and longing for his return, he did not go to her and be happy again,
I cannot tell you certainly. But perhaps it may be explained in this
way. In those far-off days there was nothing for great men to do but
fight. What they had they had won by the sword, and they kept it
by the sword. So they went swaggering over the world, fighting and
shedding blood, and the more men a knight killed, the more blood he
shed, the greater was his fame. It was impossible for a man to live in
the world and be at peace with his fellows. So when he desired peace
he had to cut himself off from the world and all who lived in it, and
go to live like a hermit in some lonely cave, or wander as a pilgrim
in desolate places. And so it was with Guy.
WHITTINGTON AND HIS CAT
ADAPTED BY ERNEST RHYS
In the reign of the famous King Edward III. there was a little boy
called Dick Whittington, whose father and mother died when he was very
young, so that he remembered nothing at all about them, and was left
a ragged little fellow, running about a country village. As poor Dick
was not old enough to work, he was very badly off; he got but little
for his dinner, and sometimes nothing at all for his breakfast; for
the people who lived in the village were very poor indeed, and could
not spare him much more than the parings of potatoes, and now and then
a hard crust of bread.
For all this Dick Whittington was a very sharp boy, and was always
listening to what everybody talked about. On Sunday he was sure to
get near the farmers, as they sat talking on the tombstones in the
churchyard, before the parson came; and once a week you might see
little Dick leaning against the sign-post of the village alehouse,
where people stopped to drink as they came from the next market town;
and when the barber's shop door was open, Dick listened to all the
news that his customers told one another.
In this manner Dick heard a great many very strange things about the
great city called London; for the foolish country people at that time
thought that folks in London were all fine gentlemen and ladies; and
that there was singing and music there all day long; and that the
streets were all paved with gold.
One day a large wagon and eight horses, all with bells at their heads,
drove through the village while Dick was standing by the sign-post. He
thought that this wagon must be going to the fine town of London; so
he took courage, and asked the wagoner to let him walk with him by the
side of the wagon. As soon as the wagoner heard that poor Dick had no
father or mother, and saw by his ragged clothes that he could not be
worse off than he was, he told him he might go if he would, so they
set off together.
I could never find out how little Dick contrived to get meat and drink
on the road; nor how he could walk so far, for it was a long way; nor
what he did at night for a place to lie down to sleep in. Perhaps some
good-natured people in the towns that he passed through, when they
saw he was a poor little ragged boy, gave him something to eat; and
perhaps the wagoner let him get into the wagon at night, and take a
nap upon one of the boxes or large parcels in the wagon.
Dick, however, got safe to London, and was in such a hurry to see the
fine streets paved all over with gold, that I am afraid he did not
even stay to thank the kind wagoner; but ran off as fast as his legs
would carry him, through many of the streets, thinking every moment
to come to those that were paved with gold; for Dick had seen a guinea
three times in his own little village, and remembered what a deal of
money it brought in change; so he thought he had nothing to do but to
take up some little bits of the pavement, and should then have as much
money as he could wish for.
Poor Dick ran till he was tired, and had quite forgot his friend the
wagoner; but at last, finding it grow dark, and that every way he
turned he saw nothing but dirt instead of gold, he sat down in a dark
corner and cried himself to sleep.
Little Dick was all night in the streets; and next morning, being very
hungry, he got up and walked about, and asked everybody he met to give
him a halfpenny to keep him from starving; but nobody stayed to answer
him, and only two or three gave him a halfpenny; so that the poor boy
was soon quite weak and faint for the want of victuals.
At last a good-natured looking gentleman saw how hungry he looked.
"Why don't you go to work, my lad?" said he to Dick. "That I would,
but I do not know how to get any," answered Dick. "If you are willing,
come along with me," said the gentleman, and took him to a hay-field,
where Dick worked briskly, and lived merrily till the hay was made.
After this he found himself as badly off as before; and being almost
starved again, he laid himself down at the door of Mr. Fitzwarren,
a rich merchant. Here he was soon seen by the cook, who was an
ill-tempered creature, and happened just then to be very busy
preparing dinner for her master and mistress; so she called out to
poor Dick: "What business have you there, you lazy rogue? there is
nothing else but beggars; if you do not take yourself away, we will
see how you will like a sousing of some dish-water; I have some here
hot enough to make you jump."
Just at that time Mr. Fitzwarren himself came home to dinner; and when
he saw a dirty ragged boy lying at the door, he said to him: "Why do
you lie there, my boy? You seem old enough to work; I am afraid you
are inclined to be lazy."
"No, indeed, sir," said Dick to him, "that is not the case, for I
would work with all my heart, but I do not know anybody, and I believe
I am very sick for the want of food."
"Poor fellow, get up; let me see what ails you."
Dick now tried to rise, but was obliged to lie down again, being too
weak to stand, for he had not eaten any food for three days, and
was no longer able to run about and beg a halfpenny of people in the
street. So the kind merchant ordered him to be taken into the house,
and have a good dinner given him, and be kept to do what dirty work he
was able to do for the cook.
Little Dick would have lived very happy in this good family if it had
not been for the ill-natured cook, who was finding fault and scolding
him from morning to night, and besides, she was so fond of basting,
that when she had no meat to baste, she would baste poor Dick's head
and shoulders with a broom, or anything else that happened to fall
in her way. At last her ill-usage of him was told to Alice, Mr.
Fitzwarren's daughter, who told the cook she should be turned away if
she did not treat him kinder.
The ill-humor of the cook was now a little amended; but besides this
Dick had another hardship to get over. His bed stood in a garret,
where there were so many holes in the floor and the walls that every
night he was tormented with rats and mice. A gentleman having given
Dick a penny for cleaning his shoes, he thought he would buy a cat
with it. The next day he saw a girl with a cat, and asked her if she
would let him have it for a penny. The girl said she would, and at the
same time told him the cat was an excellent mouser.