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

much in arms, that in a little while the enemy of the Soudan was brought under, whereof much was the Soudan rejoiced; he had the victory, and led away much folk with him.  And so soon as he was come back, he went to the Lady, and said: “Dame, by my law, I much praise thy prisoner, for much well hath he served me; and if he will cast aside his law and take ours, I will give him wide lands, and richly will I marry him.”  “Sir,” she said, “I wot not, but I trow not that he will do it.”  Therewith they were silent, so that they spake not more.  But the Lady dighted in her business straightway after these things the best she might, and she came to her prisoners, and said:

“Lords, now do ye hold ye wisely, that the Soudan perceive not our counsel; for, if God please, we shall yet be in France and the land of Ponthieu.”

Now came a day when the Lady moaned much, and complained her, and came before the Soudan, and said: “Sir, I go with child, well I wot it, and am fallen into great infirmity, nor ever since thy departure have I eaten aught wherein was any savour to me.”  “Dame,” said he, “I am heavy of thy sickness, but much joyous that thou art with child.  But now command and devise all things that thou deemest might be good for thee, and I will let seek and array them, whatsoever they may cost me.”

When the Lady heard that, she had much great joy in her heart; but never did she show any semblance thereof, save that so much she said: “Sir, my old prisoner hath said to me, that but I be presently upon earth of a right nature, I am but dead and that I may not live long.”  “Dame,” said the Soudan, “nought will I thy death: look to it, then, on what land thou wouldest be, and I will let lead thee thereto.”  “Sir,” she said, “it is of no matter to me, so that I be out of this city.”

Then the Soudan let array a ship fair and stout, and let garnish her well with wine and victual.  “Sir,” said the Lady to the Soudan, “I will have with me my old prisoner and my young one, and they shall play at the chess and the tables; and my son will I take to pleasure me.”  “Dame,” said he, “it pleaseth me well that thou do thy will herein.  But what hap with the third prisoner?”  “Sir,” said she, “thou shalt do thy will herein.”  “Dame,” said he, “I will that thou take him with thee; for he is a valiant man, and will heed thee well on land and sea, if need thou have thereto.”

Therewith she prayed leave of the Soudan, and he granted it, and much he prayed her to come back speedily.  The ship was apparelled, and they were alboun; and they went aboard, and departed from the haven.

Good wind they had, and ran much hard: and the mariners called to the Lady, and said to her: “Dame, this wind is bringing straight to Brandis; now command us thy pleasure to go thither or elsewhere.”  And she said to them: “Let run hardily, for I know well how to speak French and other tongues, and I will lead you through all.”

Now so much they ran by day and by night, through the will of Jesus Christ, that they are come to Brandis there they took harbour in all safety, and lighted down on the shore, and were received with much great joy.  The Lady, who was much wise, drew towards the prisoners, and said to them: “Lords, I would that ye call to mind the words and agreements which ye said to me, and I would be now all sure of you, and have good surety of your oaths, and that ye say to me on all that ye hold to be of God if ye will to hold to your behests, which ye have behight me, or not; for yet have I good might to return.”

They answered: “Lady, know without doubt that we have covenanted nought with you which shall not be held toward you by us loyally; and know by our Christendom and our Baptism, and by whatsoever we hold of God, that we will hold to it; be thou in no doubt thereof.”

“And I will trow in you henceforth,” said the Lady.  “Now, lords,” said she, “lo here my son, whom I had of the Soudan; what shall we do with him?”  “Dame, let him come to great honour and great gladness.”  “Lords,” said the Lady, “much have I misdone against the Soudan, for I have taken from him my body, and his son whom he loved much.”

Then she went back to the mariners, and called and said to them: “Masters, get ye back and tell to the Soudan that I have taken from him my body, and his son whom he loved much, and that I have cast forth from prison my father, my husband, and my brother.”  And when the mariners heard that, they were much grieving; but more they might not do; and they returned, sad and sorrowful for the Lady, and for the youngling, whom they loved much, and for the prisoners, who were thus lost without recoverance.

But the Count apparelled himself, whereto he had well enough, by means of merchants and by Templars, who lent him of their good full willingly.  And when the Count and his company had sojourned in the town so long as their pleasure was, they arrayed them and went their ways thence, and came to Rome.  The Count went before the Apostle, and his fellowship with him.  Each one confessed him the best that he could; and when the Apostle heard it, he was much glad, and much great cheer he made of them.  He baptized the child, and he was called William.  He reconciled the Lady, and set her again in right Christendom, and confirmed the Lady and Messire Thibault, her baron, in right marriage, and joined them together again, and gave penitence to each of them, and absolved them of their sins.

After that, they abode no long while ere they departed from Rome and took their leave of the Apostle, who much had honoured them; and he gave them his blessing, and commended them to God.  So went they in great joy and in great pleasance, and praised God and his mother and the hallows, both carl and quean, and gave thanks for the goods which they had done them.

And so far they journeyed, that they came into the land where they were born, and were received in great procession by the bishops and the abbots, and the people of religion and the other clerks, who much had desired them.

But above all other joys made they joy the Lady who was thus recovered, and who had thus delivered her father, her husband, and her brother from the hands of the Saracens, even as ye have heard.  But now leave we of them in this place, and tell we of the mariners who had brought them, and of the Saracens who had come with them.

The mariners and the Saracens who had brought them to Brandis returned at their speediest; they had good wind, and ran till they came off Aumarie.

They lighted down on shore sad and sorrowful, and went to tell the tidings to the Soudan, who was much sorrowful thereof, and in great dole abode; and for this adventure the less he loved his daughter, who had abided there, and honoured her the less.  Notwithstanding, the damsel became much sage, and waxed in great wit, so that all honoured her and loved her, and prized her for the good deeds which they told of her.

But now the history holds its peace of the Soudan, who made great dole for his wife and his prisoners who thus had escaped, and it returneth to the Count of Ponthieu, who was received into his land with great procession, and much honoured as the lord that he was.

No long while wore ere his son was made knight, and great cheer folk made of him.  He was a knight much worthy and valiant, and much he loved the worthies, and fair gifts he gave to poor knights and poor gentle dames of the country, and much was prized and loved of poor and of rich.  For a worthy he was, and a good knight, and courteous, and openhanded, and kind, and nowise proud.  Yet but a little while he lived, which was great damage, and much was he bemoaned of all.

After this adventure it befell that the Count held a great court and a great feast, and had a many of knights and other folk with him; and therewithal came a very noble man and knight, who was a much high man in Normandy, who was called my lord Raoul de Preaux.  This Raoul had a daughter much fair and much wise.  The Count spake so much to my lord Raoul and to his friends, that he made the wedding betwixt William his nephew, son to the Soudan of Aumarie, and the daughter of my lord Raoul, for no heir had he save that daughter.  William wedded the damsel, and the wedding was done much richly, and thereafter was the said William lord of Preaux.

Long time thence was the land in peace and without war: and Messire Thibault was with the Lady, and had of her sithence two man-children, who thereafter were worthies and of great lordship.  The son of the Count of Ponthieu, of whom we have told so much good, died but a little thereafter, whereof was made great dole throughout all the land.  The Count of St. Pol lived yet, and now were the two sons of my lord Thibault heirs of those two countries, and thereto they attained at the last.  The good dame their mother lived in great penitence, and much she did of good deeds and alms; and Messire Thibault lived as the worthy which he was, and much did he of good whiles he was in life.

Now it befell that the daughter of the Lady, who had abided with the Soudan her father, waxed in great beauty and became much wise, and was called the Fair Caitif, because her mother had left her thus as ye have heard: but a Turk, much valiant, who served the Soudan (Malakin of Baudas was he called), this Malakin saw the damsel to be courteous and sage, and much good had heard tell of her; wherefore he coveted her in his heart, and came to the Soudan and said to him: “Sir, for the service which I have done thee, give me a gift.”  “Malakin,” said the Soudan, “what gift?”  “Sir,” said he, “might I dare to say it, because of her highness, whereof I have nought so much as she, say it I would.”

The Soudan, who wise was and clear-seeing, said to him: “Speak in all surety that which thou willest to speak; for much I love thee and prize thee; and if the thing be a thing which I may give thee, saving my honour, know verily that thou shalt have it.”  “Sir,” said he, “well I will that thine honour shall be safe, and against it nought would I ask of thee: but if it please thee, give me thy daughter, for I pray her of thee, and right willingly would I take her.”

The Soudan held his peace and thought awhile; and he saw well that Malakin was a worthy, and wise, and might well come to great honour and great good, and that well he might be worthied; so he said: “Malakin, by my law, thou hast craved me a great thing, for I love much my daughter, and no heir else have I, as thou wottest well, and as sooth is.  She is born and come from the most highest kindred and the most valiant of France; for her mother is daughter of the Count of Ponthieu; but whereas thou art valiant, and much well hast served me, I will give her to thee with a good will, if she will grant it.”  “Sir,” said Malakin, “against her will would I do nothing.”

Then the Soudan let call the damsel, and she came, and he said to her: “My fair daughter, I have married thee, if so it please thee.”  “Sir,” she said, “well is my pleasure therein, if thou will it.”  Then the Soudan took her by the hand, and said: “Hold, Malakin!  I give her to thee.”  He received her gladly, and in great joy and in great honour of all his friends; and he wedded her according to the Saracen law; and he led her into his land in great joy and in great honour.  The Soudan brought him on his road a great way, with much company of folk, so far as him