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

Thuswise abode the matter.  Sir Raoul came back to the carline, and she told him how she had talked with the lady, and what she had answered.  “Dame Hersent,” said the knight, “thus wise should a good lady answer; but ye shall speak with her again, for one doeth not the business at the first stroke: and hold, here be twenty sols to buy thee a cloth to thy surcoat.”  The carline took the silver, and spake with the lady often, but nought it availed.

Wore the time till at last they heard news that Sir Robin was wending back from Saint Jakem, and that he was already hard on Paris.  Soon was known the tidings, and Sir Raoul, who had fear of the losing of his lands, returned to the carline, and spake with her; and she said that she might not bring the business to an end: but that she would do so much for the love of him, if she should earn her service, that she would so bring it about as that there should be none in the house save he and this lady: and then he might do his will on her, will she nill she: and he said that he asked for nought else.  “Then,” said the carline, “ye, my lord, shall come within eight days, and I will do my lady to bathe her in her chamber, and I will send all the mesney out of the house and out of the castle; then can ye come to her bathing in the chamber, and may have your desire of her, either with her good will or maugre.”  “Ye have well said,” quoth he.

Abode matters thus till Sir Robin sent word that he was coming to hand, and would be at the house on the Sunday.  Then the carline let bathe the lady the Thursday before, and the bath was in her chamber, and the fair lady entered therein.  But the carline sent after Sir Raoul, and he came.  Thereafter she sent all the folk of the household out of the house.  Sir Raoul came his ways to the chamber and entered therein, and greeted the lady, but she greeted him not again, but said thus:

“Sir Raoul, thou art nowise courteous.  Whether wottest thou forsooth that it is well with me of thy coming? accursed be thou, villain knight!”  But Sir Raoul said: “My lady, mercy, a-God’s name!  I am but dying for grief of thee.  For God’s sake have pity of me!”  “Sir Raoul,” said she, “I will have no mercy in such wise that I will ever be thy darling.  And wot thou well that if thou leave me not in peace I will tell my lord, my father, the honour thou requirest of me: for I am none such as that.”  “Nay, lady, is it so, then?”  “Yea, verily,” said she.

Therewith Sir Raoul drew nigh to her, and embraced her in his arms, which were strong enow, and drew her all naked out of the bath and bore her toward her bed; and so soon as he drew her forth of the bath he saw a black spot which she had on her right groin hard by her natural part; and he thought therewithal that that were a good token that he had lain by her.  Thus as he bore her off to her bed, his spurs hooked them into the serge at the bed’s edge toward the foot thereof, and down fell the knight, he and the lady together, he below and she above; but she rose up straightway and caught up a billet of wood, and smote Sir Raoul therewith amidst the face, and made him a wound both deep and wide, so that the blood fell to earth.  So when Sir Raoul felt himself hurt he had no great desire to play, wherefore he arose and got him gone out of the chamber straightway: he did so much that he came to his hostel, where he dwelt a good league thence, and there he had his wound dealt with.  But the good dame entered into her bath again, and called dame Hersent, and told the adventure of the knight.

Much great array made the father of the fair lady against the coming of Sir Robin, and he summoned much folk, and sent and bade Sir Raoul to come; but he sent word that he might not come, for that he was sick.  On the Sunday camel Sir Robin, and was received right fairly; and the father of the fair lady went to seek Sir Raoul and found him wounded, and said that now for nought might he abide behind from the feast.  So he dight his face and his hurt the best wise he might, and went to the feast, which was great and grand day long of drinking and of eating, and of dancing and carolling.

When night was come Sir Robin went to bed with his wife, who received him much joyously as a good dame ought to her lord; so abode they in joy and in feast the more part of the night.  On the morrow great was the feast, and the victual was dight and they ate.  But when it was after dinner, Sir Raoul bore on hand Sir Robin, and said that he had won his land, whereas he had known his wife carnally, by the token, to wit, that she had a black spot on her right thigh and a pearlet hard by her jewel.  “Thereof I wot not,” said Sir Robin, “for I have not looked on her so close.”  “Well, then, I tell thee,” said Sir Raoul, “by the oath that thou hast given me that thou take heed thereof, and do me right.”  “So will I, verily,” said Sir Robin.

When night was, Sir Robin played with his wife, and found and saw on her right thigh the black spot, and a pearlet hard by her fair jewel: and when he knew it he was sore grieving.  On the morrow he went to Sir Raoul, and said before his lord that he had lost his wager.  Heavy of heart was he day long, and when it was night he went to the stable, and set the saddle on his palfrey, and went forth from the house, bearing with him what he might get him of silver.  So came to Paris, and when he was at Paris he abode there three days.  But now leaveth the tale to tell of him, and taketh up the word concerning his wife.

Here saith the tale that much sorrowful was the fair lady and heavy of heart, when she called to mind how she had cast her lord out of his house.  Much she thought of the wherefore thereof and wept and made great dole; till her father came to her, and said that he were fainer if she were yet to wed, whereas she had done him shame and all them of his lineage; and he told her how and wherefore.  When she heard that, she was sore grieved and denied the deed downright; but nought availed.  For it is well known that shame so sore is contrary to all women, that if a woman were to burn all, she would not be trowed of such a misdoing, once it were laid on her.

On the first hour of the night the lady arose, and took all pennies that she had in her coffer, and took a nag and a harness thereto, and gat her to the road; and she had let shear her fair tresses, and was otherwise arrayed like to an esquire.  So much she went by her journeys that she came to Paris, and went after her lord; and she said and declared that she would never make an end before she had found him.  Thus she rode like to a squire.  And on a morning she went forth out of Paris, and wended the way toward Orleans until she came to the Tomb Isory, and there she fell in with her lord Sir Robin.  Full fain she was when she saw him, and she drew up to him and greeted him, and he gave her greeting back and said: “Fair friend, God give thee joy!”  “Sir,” said she, “whence art thou?”  “Forsooth, fair friend, I am of old Hainault.”  “Sir, whither wendeth thou?”  “Forsooth, fair friend, I wot not right well whither I go, nor where I shall dwell.  Forsooth, needs must I where fortune shall lead me; and she is contrary enough; for I have lost the thing in the world that most I ever loved: and she also hath lost me.  Withal I have lost my land, which was great and fair enough.  But what hast thou to name, and whither doth God lead thee?”  “Certes, sir,” said Jehane, “I am minded for Marseilles on the sea, where is war as I hope.  There would I serve some valiant man, about whom I shall learn me arms if God will.  For I am so undone in mine own country that therein for a while of time I may not have peace.  But, sir, meseemeth that thou be a knight, and I would serve thee with a right good will if it please thee.  And of my company wilt thou be nought worsened.”  “Fair friend,” said Sir Robin, “a knight am I verily.  And where I may look to find war, thitherward would I draw full willingly.  But tell me what thou hast to name?”  “Sir,” said she, “I have to name John.”  “In a good hour,” quoth the knight.  “And thou, sir, how hight thou?”  “John,” said he, “I have to name Robin.”  “Sir Robin, retain me as thine esquire, and I will serve thee to my power.”  “John, so would I with a good will.  But so little of money have I that I must needs sell my horse before three days are worn.  Wherefore I wot not how to do to retain thee.”  “Sir,” said John, “be not dismayed thereof, for God will aid thee if it please him.  But tell me where thou wilt eat thy dinner?”  “John, my dinner will soon be made; for not another penny have I than three sols of Paris.”  “Sir,” said John, “be nought dismayed thereof, for I have hard on ten pounds Tournais, whereof thou shalt not lack, if thou hast not to spend at thy will.”  “Fair friend John, have thou mickle thanks.”

Then made they good speed to Montlhery: there John dight meat for his lord and they ate.  When they had eaten, the knight slept in a bed and John at his feet.  When they had slept, John did on the bridles, and they mounted and gat to the road.  They went so far by their journeys that they came to Marseilles-on-sea; but of war they heard no word there, whereof were they much sorry.  But now leaveth the tale to tell of them two, and returneth to tell of Sir Raoul, who had by falsehood gained the land of Sir Robin.

Here telleth the tale that so long did Sir Raoul hold the land of Sir Robin without righteous cause, for seven years’ wearing.  Then he took a great sickness and of that sickness was sore beaten down, insomuch that he was on the point of death.  Now he doubted much the transgression which he had done against the fair lady the daughter of his lord, and against her husband also, whereby they were undone, both of them by occasion of his malice.  Exceeding ill at ease was he of his wrongdoing, which was so great that he durst not confess it.

Came a day when he was sore undone by his sickness, so he sent for his chaplain whom he loved much, for he had found him a man valiant and loyal; and he said to him: “Sir, thou who art my father before God, know that I look to die of this sickness, wherefore I pray thee for God’s sake that ye aid me with your counsel, for great is my need thereof, for I have done an ill deed so hideous and dark that scarce shall I have mercy therefor.”  The chaplain bade him tell it out hardily, and that he would aid him with counsel to his power; till at last Sir Raoul told him all as ye have heard afore.  And he prayed him for God’s sake give him counsel, so great as was his misdoing.  “Sir,” said he, “be nought dismayed, for if thou wilt do the penance which I enjoin thee, I will take thy transgression on me and on my soul, so that thou shalt be quit.”  “Yea, tell me then,” said the knight.  “Sir,” said he, “thou shalt take the cross far over sea, and thou shalt get thee thereto within the year wherein thou art whole, and shalt give pledges to God that thou shalt so do: and in every place