Old French Romances, Done into English, William Morris [easy books to read in english TXT] 📗

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,”