GUY OF WARWICK
Of all the nobles of Britain none was so strong as Rohand, Earl of
Warwick, Rockingham, and Oxford. He made just laws, and made them to be
obeyed; nor king nor baron in the land could buy his favour with fine
words or gold, or shield the wrong-doer from his punishment. Passing
fair was Felice, his daughter, like some stately marble shaft of perfect
mould; haughty was she as the great gerfalcon which spurns the earth and
towers up into the noon to look the burning sun in the face. Wise
masters, hoar with learning, came out from Toulouse to teach her the
seven arts and sciences, until there was not her like for wisdom
anywhere.
Earl Rohand had a favourite page, named Guy, son of his just and upright
steward, Segard of Wallingford; a brave and fearless youth, of strong
and well-knit frame, whom Heraud of Ardenne, his tutor, taught betimes
to just with lance and sword, and how to hunt with hawk and hound by
wood and river side.
It was the feast of Pentecost, when by old custom every maiden chose her
love and every knight his leman. Guy, clad in a new silken dress, being
made cup-bearer at the banquet table, saw for the first time the
beautiful Felice, as, kneeling, he offered the golden ewer and basin and
demask napkin to wash her finger-tips before the banquet. Thenceforward
he became so love-stricken with her beauty that he heard not the music
of the glee-men, saw neither games nor tourneys, but dured in a dream,
like one crazed, all through the fourteen days festival. Knights and
fair dames praised his handsome figure and well grown sinewy limbs; he
heeded not--but once Felice gave him a courteous word as he offered her
the wine-cup; he blushed and stammered and spilled the wine, and was
rebuked for awkwardness.
The feast being over, Guy went away to his chamber, and there fell into
a great love-sickness. Hopeless it seemed for a vassal to love one so
far above him as his sovereign's daughter; so he gave himself up to
despair, and his disease grew so sore that the most skilful leeches of
Earl Rohand's court were unable to cure his complaint. In vain they let
him of blood or gave him salve or potion. "There is no medicine of any
avail," the leeches said. Guy murmured, "Felice: if one might find and
bring Felice to me, I yet might live." "Felice?" the leeches said among
themselves, and shook their heads, "It is not in the herbal. Felice?
Felix? No, there is no plant of that name."
"No herb is Felice," sighing answered Guy, "but a flower--the fairest
flower that grows."
"He is light-headed," they said. "The flower Felice? He seeks perchance
the flower of happiness, growing in the garden of the blessed, away in
Paradise. He is surely near his end."
"It is truly Paradise where Felice is," Guy answered,
"You hear? You see," the leeches whispered one to another. "Come, let us
go; for we can be of no more good."
Night came, and being left alone Guy thought to rise up from his bed and
drag himself into the presence of his mistress, there to die at her
feet. So weak was he become, he scarce could stand, but fainted many
times upon the way.
Now Felice had heard many whisperings how Guy was dying for love of her,
since her handmaidens had compassion on the youth, and sought to turn
her heart toward him; but Felice was in no mind to have a page for a
lover. Howbeit on this very night she had a dream, wherein being
straitly enjoined to entreat the youth with kindness as the only way to
save a life which would hereafter be of great service to the world, she
arose and came to a bower in the garden where Guy lay swooning on the
floor. Felice would not stoop to help him, but her maids having restored
him to his senses, Guy fell at her feet and poured out all his love
before her. Never a word answered Felice, but stood calmly regarding him
with haughty coldness. Then said one of her maids, "O lady! were I the
richest king's daughter in the land, I could not turn away from love so
strong and true." Felice rebuked her, saying, "Could not? Silly child,
see that your soft heart do not prove your shame." So with a tingling
cheek the maid withdrew abashed. Then said Felice to Guy, "Why kneel
there weeping like a girl? Get up, and show if there is the making of a
man in you. Hear what I have to say. The swan mates not with the
swallow, and I will never wed beneath me. Prove that your love is not
presumption. Show yourself my peer. For I could love a brave and valiant
knight before whose spear men bowed as to a king, nor would I ask his
parentage, prouder far to know that my children took their nobleness
from a self-made nobleman. But a weeping, love-sick page! No! Go, fight
and battle--show me something that you do that I can love. Meantime I
look for such a lover, and I care not if his name be Guy the page."
Then Guy took heart and said, "Lady, I ask no better boon than to have
you for witness of what love for you can do."
Felice answered, "Deeds, not words. Be strong and valiant. I will watch
and I will wait."
Then Guy took leave of his mistress and in the course of a few days
regained his health, to the surprise of all the court, but more
especially of the leeches who had given him over for dead, and coming to
Earl Rohand, entreated him to make him a knight. To this Earl Rohand
having agreed, Guy was knighted at the next feast of Holy Trinity with a
dubbing worthy a king's son; and they brought him rich armour, and a
good sword and spear and shield, and a noble steed with costly
trappings, together with rich silken cloaks and mantles fur-trimmed, and
of great price. Then bidding farewell to Segard his father, Sir Guy left
Warwick with Heraud his tutor, and Sir Thorold and Sir Urry for company,
and having reached the nearest seaport, set sail for Normandy in search
of adventures wherein to prove his valour.
They came to Rouen, and whilst they tarried at an inn a tournament was
proclaimed in honour of the fair Blancheflor, daughter to Regnier,
Emperor of Germany, and the prize was the hand of the Princess, a white
horse, two white hounds, and a white falcon. So Sir Guy and his
companions rode into the lists, where was a great company of proven
knights and champions. Three days they tourneyed, but none could
withstand Sir Guy's strong arm. He overthrew Otho Duke of Pavia, Sir
Garie the Emperor's son, Regnier Duke of Sessoyne, the Duke of Lowayne,
and many more, till not a man was left who dared encounter him; and
being master of the field, he was adjudged the prize. The horse and
hounds and falcon he sent by two messengers to Felice in England as
trophies of his valour. Then he knelt before the beautiful Princess
Blancheflor and said, "Lady, I battle in honour of my mistress, the
peerless Felice, and am her servant," whereat the Emperor and his
daughter, admiring his constancy, loaded him with rich presents and
allowed him to depart.
Sir Guy then travelled through Spain, Lombardy, and Almayne, into far
lands; and wheresoever a tournament was held, there he went and justed,
coming out victor from them all; till the fame of his exploits spread
over Christendom. So a year passed, and he returned to England
unconquered, and renowned as the most valiant knight of his time. A
while he sojourned in London with King Athelstan, who rejoiced to do him
honour; then he came to Warwick, where he received from Earl Rohand a
princely welcome. Then Sir Guy hastened to Felice.
"Fair mistress," said he, "have I now won your love? You have heard my
deeds, how I have travelled all through Christendom, and have yet found
no man stand against my spear. I have been faithful in my love, Felice,
as well as strong in fight. I might have wedded with the best. King's
daughters and princesses were prizes in the tournaments; but I had no
mind for any prize but thee. Say, is it mine, sweet mistress?"
Then Felice kissed her knight and answered, "Right nobly have you won my
love and worship, brave Sir Guy. You are more than my peer; you are
become my sovereign; and my love pays willing homage to its lord. But
for this same cause I will not wed you yet. I will not have men point at
me and say, 'There is a woman who for selfish love's sake, wedded the
knight of most renown in Christendom ere yet he did his bravest
deeds-drew him from his level to her own-made him lay by his sword and
spear for the slothful pleasures of a wedded life, and dwarfed a brave
man down to a soft gentleman.' Nay, dear one, I can wait, and very
proudly, knowing myself your chiefest prize. But seek not to possess the
prize too soon, lest your strivings for renown, being aimless, should
wax feeble. It is because I love you that I hold your fame far dearer
than my love. Go rather forth again, travel through heathen lands,
defend the weak against the strong; go, battle for the right, show
yourself the matchless knight you are; and God and my love go with
thee."
Then Sir Guy got him ready for his new quest. Earl Rohand tried to
persuade him to remain at home, as likewise did his father Segard; and
his mother, weeping, prayed him stay. She said, "Another year it may not
fare so well with thee, my son. Leave well alone. Felice is cold and
proud and cares not for thee, else she would not risk thy life again.
What is it to her? If thou wert slain she would get another lover; we
have no more sons."
Yet would not Sir Guy be turned from his purpose, but embarked with his
companions, Sir Heraud, Sir Thorold, and Sir Urry, for Flanders. Thence
he rode through Spain, Germany, and Lombardy, and bore away the prize at
every tournament. But coming into Italy, he got a bad wound jousting at
Beneventum, which greatly weakened him.
Duke Otho of Pavia, whom Sir Guy overthrew in his first tournament at
Rouen, thought now to be avenged on him. So he set a chosen knight, Earl
Lombard, with fifteen other knights to lie in ambush in a wood and slay
Sir Guy; and as Sir Guy, with his three companions, came ambling slowly
through the wood, he smarting and well-nigh faint with his wound, the
men in ambush broke out from their concealment and called on him to
yield. The danger made him forget his pain, and straightway he dressed
his shield and spurred among them.
Sir Heraud, Sir Thorold, and Sir Urry killed the three first knights
they rode against. Then Earl Lombard slew Sir Urry; and at the same time
Hugo, nephew to Duke Otho, laid Sir Thorold dead at his horse's feet.
Then only Sir Guy and Sir Heraud being left to fight, Sir Guy attacked
Earl Lombard and smote him to the heart, whilst Sir Heraud chased Hugo,
fleeing like a hound, and drove his spear throughout his body. Thus were
Sir Urry and Sir Thorold avenged. But one of the felon knights, called
Sir Gunter, smote Sir Heraud a mighty stroke when he was off his guard,
and hewed his shield and coat of mail in pieces, and Sir Heraud fell to
the earth covered with blood and lay as dead.
Thereupon Sir Guy's anger waxed furious at his master's death; and he
spurred his horse so that fire rose from under its feet, and with one
blow of his sword cleft Sir Gunter from his helmet to the pummel of his
saddle. As for the other knights he slew them all except Sir Guichard,
who fled on his swift steed to Pavia, and got back to Duke Otho.
Heavily Sir Guy grieved for the loss of his three friends, but most of
all for his dear master Sir Heraud. He sought about the wood until he
found a hermit. To him he gave a good steed, charging him to bury the
bodies of Sir Urry and Sir Thorold. From Sir Heraud's body he would not
part. Lifting the old knight to his arms, he laid him across his horse,
and led the steed by the bridle-rein till they came to an abbey, where
he left the body with the abbot, promising rich presents in return for
giving it sumptuous burial with masses and chants. But Sir Guy departed
and hid himself in a hermit's cave away from the malice of Duke Otho,
until his wound should be healed.
Now there was in the abbey whither Heraud's body was taken, a monk well
skilled in leech-craft, who knew the virtues of all manner of grasses
and herbs. And this monk, finding by his craft that life still flickered
in the body, nursed and tended it; and after a long while Sir Heraud was
well enough to travel. Disguised as a palmer he came into Burgundy, and
there, to his great joy, found Sir Guy, who had come thither meaning to
take his way back to England. But they lingered still, till Heraud
should grow stronger, and so it fell out that they came to St. Omers.
There they heard how the Emperor Regnier had come up against Segwin,
Duke of Lavayne, laid waste his land, and besieged him in his strong
city Seysone, because he had slain Sadoc, the Emperor's cousin, in a
tournament. But when Sir Guy learned that Sadoc had first provoked Duke
Segwin, and brought his death upon himself, he determined to help Segwin
against his sovereign the Emperor Regnier. He therefore gathered fifty
knights together with Heraud, and coming secretly at night to the city
of Seysone, was let in at a postern gate without the enemy being aware.
In the morning after mass they made a sally against their foes, which
numbered thirty thousand strong, and routed them, taking many noble
prisoners. Three times the Emperor came against the Greeks, each time
with a new army larger than before. Twice did Sir Guy vanquish the host,
and drive them from the walls. The third time he took Sir Gaire, the
Emperor's son, prisoner, and carried him into the city. Then the Emperor
Regnier determined, since he could not take the place by assault, to
beleaguer it, and starve the town into surrender. And it was so that,
while his army was set down before the walls, the Emperor hunted alone
in a wood hard by, and Sir Guy, meeting him there, gathered a branch of
olive tree, and came bending to the Emperor, saying, "God save you,
gentle sire. Duke Segwin sendeth me to make his peace with you. He will
yield you all his lands and castles in burg and city, and hold them of
you henceforth in vassalage, but he now would have your presence in the
city to a feast." So the Emperor was forced to go with him into the city
as a prisoner, albeit he was served with the humility due to a sovereign
both by Sir Guy and Duke Segwin's knights. Sir Gaire and the other
captive nobles came also and prayed for peace with Duke Segwin, for they
had been so well treated that they felt nothing but the truest
friendship for their captor. So it befell when the Emperor found himself
feasting in the enemy's castle, surrounded by the flower of his own
knights and nobles, and Duke Segwin and his band serving them humbly at
table as though they had been servants in place of masters, he was
touched by their generosity, and willingly agreed to a free and friendly
peace. And this was celebrated by the Emperor giving Duke Segwin his
niece to wife, whilst the Duke of Saxony wedded Duke Segwin's sister
amid great rejoicings.
Now after this, learning that Ernis, Emperor of Greece, was besieged in
Constantinople his capital by the Saracens, Sir Guy levied an army of a
thousand knights and went to his assistance. Well pleased was Ernis at
so timely a succor, and he promised to reward Sir Guy by making him heir
to the throne and giving him the hand of his only daughter the beautiful
Loret. Then Sir Guy led the army forth from the city against the Soudan
and his host, and defeated them so badly that for some days they were
unable to rally their men for another encounter.
In the meantime, one of Sir Guy's knights named Sir Morgadour fell in
love with the Princess Loret, and being envious of Sir Guy's
achievements as well as jealous of such a rival, he sought how to
embroil him with the Emperor and compass his disgrace. Wherefore one day
when the Emperor Ernis was gone a-rivering with his hawks, Sir Morgadour
challenged Sir Guy to play a game of chess in the Princess Loret's
chamber. They played there, Sir Guy not thinking of treachery. But
by-and-by the Princess entered, and Sir Morgadour after greeting her
took his leave quickly and came to the Emperor Ernis, telling him how
Sir Guy was alone in the chamber with his daughter. Ernis, however, paid
little heed to the tale, for he said: "Well, and what of it? Loret is
his promised bride, and Sir Guy is a good true knight. Away with your
tales!" But Sir Morgadour was not to be baffled, so he went to Sir Guy
and said: "Behold how little trust is to be placed in a king! Here is
the Emperor Ernis mad wroth to hear you were alone with the Princess
Loret, and swears he will have your life." Then Sir Guy in great anger
summoned his knights, and was going over to the Saracens, when, on his
way, he met the Emperor, who told him of the malice of Sir Morgadour and
all was made plain.
But now the Saracens coming anew against the city, Sir Guy went forth to
meet them with many engines upon wheels which threw great stones
quarried from a hill. Sir Guy and his army again defeated the Saracens,
insomuch that a space of fifteen acres was covered so thick with dead
that a man might not walk between, whilst the pile of slain around Sir
Guy reached breast high. So the Soudan and his host withdrew to their
camps.
Then Sir Morgadour bethought him of another wile. The Soudan had sworn
to kill every Christian found in his camp, without regard to flag of
truce or ambassage. So Sir Morgadour persuaded Ernis to send Sir Guy to
the Soudan saying, that, since the war seemed likely to come to no
speedy issue, it should be settled by single combat between two
champions chosen from the Christian and the Saracen hosts. The counsel
seemed good to Ernis, but yet he liked not to risk his son-in-law's
life; wherefore he called his Parliament together and asked for some
bold knight to go and bear this message. When all the others held their
peace, Sir Guy demanded to be sent upon the business, neither could the
prayers and entreaties of Ernis cause him to forego the enterprise. He
clad himself in iron hose and a trusty hauberk, set a helm of steel,
gold-circled, on his head, and having girt his sword about him, leapt on
his steed without so much as touching stirrup, and rode up to the
Soudan's pavilion. He well knew it from the rest, since on the top
thereof flashed a great carbuncle stone.
There were feasting the Soudan, ten kings, and many barons, when Sir Guy
walked into the pavilion and delivered his message with great roughness
of speech. "Seize him and slay him!" cried the Soudan. But Sir Guy cut
his way through his assailants and rushing on the Soudan cut off his
head; and while he stooped to pick up the trophy with his left hand,
with his right he slew six Saracens, then fought his passage past them
all to the tent door, and leapt upon his horse. But the whole Saracen
host being roused he never would have got back for all his bravery, but
that Heraud within the city saw in a dream the danger he was in, and
assembling the Greek army and Sir Guy's knights, came to his rescue and
put the Saracens to flight. Then after the battle, Sir Guy came in
triumph to Constantinople and laid the Soudan's head at the feet of the
Emperor Ernis.
Ernis now, being at peace from his enemies, would take Sir Guy through
his realms. On their way they saw a dragon fighting a lion, and the lion
having much the worst of the combat, Sir Guy must needs go and fight the
dragon. After a hard battle he laid the monster dead at his feet, and
the lion came and licked the hands of his deliverer, and would in no
wise depart from his side.
Soon afterward the Emperor Ernis gathered a great company of princes,
dukes, earls, barons, bishops, abbots, and priors to the wedding feast,
and in presence of them all he gave Sir Guy to be ruler over half the
kingdom, and led forth the Princess Loret to be his bride.
But when Sir Guy saw the wedding-ring, his old love came to his mind,
and he bethought him of Felice. "Alas!" he cried, "Felice the bright and
beautiful, my heart misgives me of forgetting thee. None other maid
shall ever have my love." Then he fell into a swoon and when he came to
himself he pleaded sudden sickness. So the marriage was put off, to the
great distress of Ernis and his daughter Loret, and Sir Guy gat him to
an Inn. Heraud tended him there, and learned how it was for the sake of
Felice that Guy renounced so fair a bride, dowered with so rich a
kingdom. But after a fortnight, when he could no longer feign illness
because of the watchfullness of the Emperor and the Princess after his
health, he was forced to return to court, and delay his marriage from
day to day by one excuse and another, until at length fortune delivered
him from the strait. The lion which Sir Guy had tamed was used to roam
about the palace, and grew so gentle that none feared him and none
sought him harm. But Sir Morgadour, being sore vexed to think that all
his plans against Sir Guy had failed, determined to wreak his spite upon
the lion. He therefore watched until he found the lion asleep within an
arbour, and then wounded him to death with his sword. The faithful beast
dragged himself so far as Sir Guy's chamber, licked his master's hands,
and fell dead at his feet. But a little maid which had espied Sir
Morgadour told Sir Guy who had slain his lion. Then Sir Guy went forth
in quest of Sir Morgadour, and fought with him and slew him. He had
forgiven the wrongs against himself, since he outwitted them; but he was
fain to avenge his faithful favourite. Now Sir Morgadour was steward to
the German Emperor Regnier. So Sir Guy showed Ernis that if he remained
longer at his court, Regnier would surely make war on Greece to avenge
his steward's death. Wherefore with this excuse he took his departure
and set sail with Heraud in the first ship he could find. They landed in
Germany, and visited the Emperor Regnier without telling anything about
his steward's death. Then they came to Lorraine.
As Sir Guy took his way alone through a forest, having sent his servants
on to prepare a place for him at an inn, he heard the groaning of a man
in pain, and turning his horse that way, found a knight sore wounded,
and like to die. This knight was named Sir Thierry, and served the Duke
of Lorraine. He told how he was riding through the wood with his lady,
Osile, when fifteen armed men beset him, and forcibly carried off the
lady to take her to Duke Otho of Pavia, his rival Then said Sir Guy, "I
also have a score to settle with Otho, the felon duke." Then he took Sir
Thierry's arms and armour, and went in pursuit of the ravishers whom he
soon overtook, and having slain every one, he set the lady on his steed
and returned to the place where he had left the wounded knight. But now
Sir Thierry was gone; for four knights of Duke Otho's band had come and
carried him off. So Sir Guy set down the lady, and started to find the
four knights. Having fought and vanquished them, he set Sir Thierry on
his horse and returned. But now Osile was gone. He searched for many
hours to find her, but in vain. So as nightfall drew on he took Sir
Thierry to the inn. There by good fortune they found the lady, Sir Guy's
servants having met her in the wood and brought her with them to await
his coming. A leech soon came and dressed Sir Thierry's wounds, and by
the careful tending of Osile and Sir Guy, he got well Then Sir Guy and
Sir Thierry swore brotherhood in arms.
Soon there came a messenger, saying that Duke Otho, hotly wroth at
losing the fair Osile, had gone to lay waste the lands of Aubry, Sir
Thierry's father; the Duke of Lorraine was likewise helping him.
Thereupon Sir Guy equipped five hundred knights and came with Sir
Thierry to the city of Gurmoise where Aubry dwelt. It was a well
ramparted city, and after being beaten in two battles with Sir Guy, Duke
Otho found, despite the larger numbers of his host, that he could not
stand against the courage of the little army and the valour of its
leader. Thinking therefore to gain Osile by treachery, he sent an
archbishop to Aubry, offering peace and pledging himself to confirm the
marriage of Sir Thierry and Osile, provided only that the lovers would
go and kneel in homage to their sovereign Duke of Lorraine. Thereon Sir
Thierry and his bride, together with Sir Guy and Sir Heraud, set out
unarmed, and after wending a day's journey out of Gurmoise, they met the
Duke of Lorraine, who embraced and kissed them in token of peace. But
Otho coming forward as if to do the like, made a sign to a band of men
whom he had in waiting to seize them. These quickly surrounded Sir
Heraud and Sir Thierry and carried them off; but Sir Guy with only his
fists slew many of his assailants, and broke away to where a countryman
stood with a staff in his hand. Snatching this for a weapon, Sir Guy
beat down the quickest of his pursuers, and made his escape. Duke Otho
cast Sir Thierry into a deep dungeon in Pavia, and meanwhile gave Osile
a respite of forty days wherein to consent to be his bride. But the Duke
of Lorraine carried off Sir Heraud.
Weary and hungered, and vexed at the loss of his friends, Sir Guy came
to a castle where he sought harbour for the night. Sir Amys of the
Mountain, who dwelt there, welcomed him with a good will, and hearing
his adventures, offered to raise an army of fifteen hundred men to help
him against Duke Otho. But to this Sir Guy said nay, because it would
take too long. So, after a day or two, having hit upon a plan, he
disguised, himself by staining his face and darkening his hair and beard
and eyebrows; and setting out alone, came to Duke Otho with a present of
a war-horse of great price, and said, "You have in your keeping a
dastard knight by name Sir Thierry, who has done me much despite, and I
would fain be avenged upon him." Then Duke Otho, falling into the trap,
appointed him jailor of Sir Thierry.
The dungeon wherein Sir Thierry was prisoned was a pit of forty fathoms
deep, and very soon Sir Guy spake from the pit's mouth bidding him be of
good cheer, for he would certainly deliver him. But a false Lombard
overheard these words, and thereby knowing that it was Sir Guy, ran off
straightway to tell Duke Otho. Sir Guy followed quickly and sought to
bribe the man with money to hold his peace, but without avail, for he
would go into the palace where the Duke was, and opened his mouth to
tell the tale. Then with one blow Sir Guy slew him at Duke Otho's feet.
But Otho, very wroth, would have killed Sir Guy then and there, only
that he averred that this was a certain traitor whom he found carrying
food to the prisoner. Thus having appeased the Duke's anger, he gat away
secretly to Osile, and bade her change her manner to Duke Otho, and make
as though she was willing to have his love. The night before the day
fixed for the wedding, Sir Guy let down a rope to Thierry in his pit,
and having drawn him up, the two made all speed to the castle of Sir
Amys. There, getting equipped with arms and armour, they leaped to horse
on the morrow, and riding back to Pavia, met the wedding procession.
Rushing into the midst Sir Guy slew Otho and Sir Thierry carried off
Osile, whereupon they returned to Sir Amys with light hearts. And when
the Duke of Lorraine had tidings of what had befallen Otho he had great
fear of Sir Guy, and sent Sir Heraud back with costly gifts to make his
peace. So Sir Thierry and Osile were wed, and a sumptuous banquet was
held in their honour, with game, and hunting, and hawking, and justing,
and singing of glee-men, more than can be told.
Now as Sir Guy went a-hunting one day, he rode away from his party to
pursue a boar of great size. And this boar, being very nimble and fleet
of foot, led him a long chase till he came into Flanders. And when he
killed the boar he blew upon his horn the prize. Florentine, King of
Flanders, hearing it in his palace, said, "Who is this that slays the
tall game on my lands?" And he bade his son go forth and bring him in.
The young prince coming with a haughty message to Sir Guy, the knight
struck him with his hunting-horn, meaning no more than chastisement for
his discourtesy. But by misadventure the prince fell dead at his feet.
Thinking no more of the mishap, and knowing not who it was whom he had
slain, Sir Guy rode on to the palace, and was received with good cheer
at the King's table. But presently the prince's body being brought in,
and Guy owning that he had done this deed, King Florentine took up an
axe, and aimed a mighty blow at the slayer of his son. This Sir Guy
quickly avoided, and when all arose to seize him, he smote them down on
either hand, and fought his way through the hall till he reached his
steed, whereon lightly leaping he hasted back to Sir Thierry.
Then after a short while he took leave of Sir Thierry, and came with Sir
Heraud to England, to the court of King Athelstan at York. Scarce had he
arrived there when tidings came that a great black and winged dragon was
ravaging Northumberland, and had destroyed whole troops of men which
went against him. Sir Guy at once armed himself in his best proven
armour, and rode off in quest of the monster. He battled with the dragon
from prime till undern, and on from undern until evensong, but for all
the dragon was so strong and his hide so flinty Sir Guy overcame him,
and thrust his sword down the dragon's throat, and having cut off his
head brought it to King Athelstan. Then while all England rang with this
great exploit, he took his journey to Wallingford to see his parents.
But they were dead; so after grieving many days for them he gave his
inheritance to Sir Heraud, and hasted to Felice at Warwick.
Proudly she welcomed her true knight, and listened to the story of his
deeds. Then laughingly Sir Guy asked, should he go another quest before
they two were wed?
"Nay, dear one," said Felice, "my heart misgives me I was wrong to peril
your life so long for fame's sake and my pride in you. A great
love-longing I have borne to have you home beside me. But now you shall
go no more forth. My pride it was that made me wish you great and
famous, and for that I bade you go; but now, beside your greatness and
your fame, I am become so little and so unworthy that I grow jealous
lest you seek a worthier mate. We will not part again, dear lord Sir
Guy." Then he kissed her tenderly and said, "Felice, whatever of fame
and renown I may have gained, I owe it all to you. It was won for you,
and but for you it had not been--and so I lay it at your feet in loving
homage, owning that I hold it all of you."
So they were wed amid the joy of all the town of Warwick; for the
spousings were of right royal sort, and Earl Rohand held a great
tournament, and kept open court to all Warwick, Rockingham, and Oxford
for fourteen days.
Forty days they had been wed, when it happened that as Sir Guy lay by a
window of his tower, looking out upon the landscape, he fell to musing
on his life. He thought, "How many men I have slain, how many battles I
have fought, how many lands I have taken and destroyed! All for a
woman's love; and not one single deed done for my God!" Then he thought,
"I will go a pilgrimage for the sake of the Holy Cross." And when Felice
knew what he meditated she wept, and with many bitter tears besought him
not to leave her. But he sighed and said, "Not yet one single deed for
God above!" and held fast to his intent. So he clad himself in palmer's
dress, and having taken a gold ring from his wife's hand and placed upon
his own, he set out without any companion for the Holy Land.
But Felice fell into a great wan-hope at his departure, and grieved
continually, neither would be comforted; for she said, "I have brought
this on myself by sending him such perilous journeys heretofore, and now
I cannot bear to part from him." But that she bore his child she would
have taken her own life for very trouble of heart; only for that child's
sake she was fain to live and mature it when it should be born.
Now after Sir Guy had made his toilsome pilgrimage to Jerusalem, and
shrived him of his life, and done his prayers and penances about the
holy places, he took his way to Antioch.
Beside a well he met a certain Earl Jonas, whose fifteen sons were held
in prison till he should find a champion to deliver the Saracen Sir
Triamour from the hands of a fierce and terrible Ethiopian giant named
Amiraunt. So Sir Guy took arms again, and rode into the lists, and
fought with Amiraunt and slew him; thus both Sir Triamour was delivered
from his enemy, and the sons of Earl Jonas were restored to him. After
this, Sir Guy travelled many years as a pilgrim of the Cross, till in
his wanderings, chancing to come into Almayne, he there fell in with Sir
Thierry, who, dressed in palmer's weeds, made sorry complaint. Sir
Thierry told how a knight named Barnard inherited Pavia in the room of
his cousin Duke Otho; and how Barnard, being at enmity with him because
of the slaying of Duke Otho, had never rested from doing him mischief
with his sovereign, until the Duke of Lorraine dispossessed him from his
lands and brought him into poverty. Howbeit Sir Guy would not reveal
himself, and Sir Thierry being faint and weary, laid his head upon Sir
Guy's knees, and so great a heaviness came over him that he fell asleep.
As he slept, Sir Guy, watching him, saw a small white weasel creep out
from the mouth of the sleeping man, and run to a little rivulet that was
hard by, going to and fro beside the bank, not seeming wistful how to
get across. Then Sir Guy rose gently and laid his sword athwart the
stream from bank to bank; so the weasel passed over the sword, as it had
been a bridge, and having made his way to a hole at the foot of the hill
on the other side, went in thereat. But presently the weasel came out,
and crossing the stream in the same manner as before jumped into the
sleeper's mouth again. Then Sir Thierry woke and told his dream. "I
dreamed," said he, "that I came beside a mighty torrent which I knew not
how to pass, until I found a bridge of shining steel, over which I went,
and came into a cavern underground, and therein I found a palace full of
gold and jewels. I pray thee, brother palmer, read to me this dream."
Then Sir Guy said that without doubt it betokened a fair treasure hid by
a waterside, and with that showed him the hole under the hill whereat he
had seen the weasel go in. There they digged and found the treasure,
which was very great; yet Sir Guy would have no share therein, but took
leave of Sir Thierry without ever making himself known, and came to
Lorraine the duke that was Sir Thierry's sovereign.
Seeing a palmer the Duke of Lorraine asked tidings of his travels.
"Sir," said the palmer, "men in all lands speak of Sir Thierry, and much
do blame you for taking away his heritage at the bidding of so false a
knight as Sir Barnard. And palmer though I be, I yet will prove Sir
Barnard recreant and traitor upon his body, and thereto I cast down my
glove." Then Sir Barnard took up the glove, and Sir Guy being furnished
with armour and a sword and shield and spear, they did battle together.
And in the end Sir Guy overcame and slew Sir Barnard, and demanded of
the duke to restore Sir Thierry to his possessions, which being granted,
he went in search of the banished man, and having found him in a church
making his prayer, brought him straightway to the duke, and thus they
were made friends. And when Sir Thierry found who his deliverer was he
was exceeding glad and would willingly have divided all his inheritance
with him. But Sir Guy would receive neither fee nor reward, and after he
had abode some time with him at the court, he took his way to England.
Now Athelstan was besieged in Winchester by Anlaf King of Denmark, and
could not come out of the city for the great host that was arrayed
against him, whilst all the folk within the city walls were famishing
for want of food and thought of nothing but surrender. Moreover King
Anlaf had proclaimed a challenge, giving them seven days' grace wherein
either to deliver up the city keys, or to find a champion who should
fight against the great and terrible Danish giant Colbrand; and every
day for seven days' the giant came before the walls and cried for a man
to fight with him. But there was found no man so hardy to do battle with
Colbrand. Then King Athelstan, as he walked to and fro in his city and
saw the distress of his people, was suddenly aware of a light that shone
about him very brightly, and he heard a voice which charged him to
intrust his cause to the first poor palmer he should meet. Soon after he
met a palmer in the city, and weening not that it was Sir Guy, kneeled
humbly to him, in sure faith in the heavenly voice, and asked his help.
"I am an old man," said the palmer, "with little strength except what
Heaven might give me for a people's need beset by enemies. But yet for
England's sake and with Heaven's help I will undertake this battle."
They then clothed him in the richest armour that the city could furnish,
with a good hauberk of steel, and a helmet whose gold circle sparkled
with precious stones, and on the top whereof stood a flower wrought of
divers colours in rare gems. Gloves of mail he wore, and greaves upon
his legs, and a shirt of ring-mail upon his body, with a quilted
gambeson beneath: sharp was the sword, and richly carved the heavy spear
he bare; his threefold shield was overlaid with gold. They led forth to
him a swift steed; but before he mounted he went down upon his knees and
meekly told his beads, praying God to succor him that day. And the two
kings held a parley for an hour, Anlaf promising on his part that if his
champion fell he would go back with all his host to Denmark and never
more make war on Britain, whilst Athelstan agreed, if his knight were
vanquished, to make Anlaf King of England, and henceforth to be his
vassal and pay tribute both of gold and silver money.
Then Colbrand stode forth to the battle. So great was he of stature that
no horse could bear him, nor indeed could any man make a cart wherein to
carry him. He was armed with black armour of so great weight that a
score of men could scarce bear up his hauberk only, and it took three to
carry his helmet. He bare a great dart within his hand, and slung around
his body were swords and battle-axes more than two hundred in number.
Sir Guy rode boldly at him, but his spear shivered into pieces against
the giant's armour. Then Colbrand threw three darts. The first two
passed wide, but the third crashed through Sir Guy's shield, and glided
betwixt his arm and side, nor fell to ground till it had sped over a
good acre of the field. Then a blow from the giant's sword just missed
the knight, but lighting on his saddle at the back of him hewed horse
and saddle clean in two; so Sir Guy was brought to ground. Yet lightly
sprang he to his feet, and though seemingly but a child beside the
monster man, he laid on hotly with his sword upon the giant's armour,
until the sword brake in his hands. Then Colbrand called on him to
yield, since he had no longer a weapon wherewith to fight. "Nay,"
answered Sir Guy, "but I will have one are of thine," and with that ran
deftly to the giant's side and wrenched away a battle-axe wherewith he
maintained the combat. Right well Sir Guy endured while Colbrand's
mighty strokes shattered his armour all about him, until his shield
being broke in pieces it seemed he could no longer make defence, and the
Danes raised a great shout at their champion's triumph. Then Colbrand
aimed a last stroke at the knight to lay him low, but Sir Guy lightly
avoiding it, the giant's sword smote into the earth a foot or more, and
before he could withdraw it or free his hand, Sir Guy hewed off the arm
with his battle-axe; and since Colbrand's weight leaned on that arm, he
fell to the ground. So Sir Guy cut off his head, and triumphed over the
giant Colbrand, and the Danes withdrew to their own country.
Then without so much as telling who he was, Sir Guy doffed his armour
and put on his palmer's weeds again, and secretly withdrawing himself
from all the feasts and games they held in honour of him in the city of
Winchester, passed out alone and took his journey toward Warwick on
foot.
Many a year had gone since he had left his wife and home. The boy whom
Felice had borne him, named Raynburn, he had never seen; nor, as it
befell, did he ever see his son. For Raynburn in his childhood had been
stolen away by Saracens and carried to a far heathen country, where King
Aragus brought him up and made him first his page, then chamberlain, and
as he grew to manhood, knighted him. And now he fought the battles of
King Aragus with a strong arm like his father Guy's, neither could any
endure against his spear. But all these years Felice had passed in
prayer and charity, entertaining pilgrims and tired wayfarers, and
comforting the sick and the distressed. And it was so that Sir Guy, all
travel-worn and with his pilgrim's staff in hand, came to her house and
craved an alms. She took him in and washed his feet and ministered to
him, asking oftentimes if in his travels he had seen her lord Sir Guy.
But when he watched her gentleness to the poor and to the children at
her gate, he feared to break in upon her holy life, and so refrained
himself before her and would not reveal himself, but with a heavy heart
came out from the lady's door and gat him to a hermit's cell. There he
abode in fasting and in penitence many weeks, till feeling his end draw
near, he took the ring from his finger and sent it by a herdsman to
Felice. "Where got you this token?" cried Felice, all trembling with her
wonderment and fear. "From a poor beggar-man that lives in yonder cell,"
the herdsman answered. "From a beggar? Nay, but from a kingly man," said
Felice, "for he is my husband, Guy of Warwick!" and gave the herdsman a
hundred marks. Then she hasted and came to Sir Guy in his hermit's cell,
and for a long space they wept in each other's arms and neither spake a
word.
Weaker and fainter waxed Sir Guy. In a little while he died, and Felice
closed his tired eyes. Fifteen weary days she lingered sore in grief,
and then God's angel came and closed her own.