The Geste of Duke Jocelyn

by Jeffery Farnol

  FYTTE 10

  How Red Gui sore smitten was in fight By motley Fool in borrowed armour dight.

  * * * * *

  Now shrill tucket and clarion, trumpet and horn With their cheery summons saluted the morn, Where the sun, in his splendour but newly put on, Still more splendid made pennon and brave gonfalon That with banners and pennoncelles fluttered and flew High o'er tent and pavilion of every hue. For the lists were placed here, for the tournament set, Where already a bustling concourse was met; Here were poor folk and rich folk, lord, lady and squire, Clad in leather, in cloth and in silken attire; Here folk pushed and folk jostled, as people still do When the sitters be many, the seats scant and few; Here was babble of voices and merry uproar, For while some folk laughed loud, some lost tempers and swore. Until on a sudden this tumult and riot Was hushed to a murmur that sank into quiet As forth into the lists, stern of air, grave of face, Five fine heralds, with tabard and trumpet, did pace With their Lion-at-arms, or Chief Herald, before; And a look most portentous this Chief Herald wore, And, though portly his shape and a little too round, Sure a haughtier Chief Herald could nowhere be found. So aloof was his look and so grave his demeanour, Humble folk grew abashed, and mean folk felt the meaner; When once more the loud clarions had all echoes woke This Chief Herald in voice deep and sonorous spoke:

  "Good people all, Both great and small, Oyez! Ye noble dames of high degree Your pretty ears now lend to me, And much I will declare to ye. Oyez! Oyez! Ye dainty lords of might and fame, Ye potent gentles, do the same, Ye puissant peers of noble name, Now unto ye I do proclaim: Oyez! Oyez! Oyez!"

  Here pealed the trumpets, ringing loud and clear, That deafened folk who chanced to stand too near. In special one--a bent and hag-like dame, Who bent o'er crooked staff as she were lame; Her long, sharp nose--but no, her nose none saw, Since it was hidden 'neath the hood she wore But from this hood she watched with glittering eye Four lusty men-at-arms who lolled hard by, Who, 'bove their armour, bore on back and breast A bloody hand--Lord Gui's well-hated crest, And who, unwitting of the hooded hag, On sundry matters let their lewd tongues wag:

  THE FIRST SOLDIER: Why, she scorned him, 'tis well beknown!

  THE SECOND SOLDIER: Aye, and it doth not do to scorn the Red Gui, look 'ee!

  THE THIBD SOLDIER: She'll lie snug in his arms yet, her pride humbled, herproud spirit broke, I'll warrant me!

  THE FOURTH SOLDIER: She rideth hence in her litter, d'ye see; and with butscant few light-armed knaves attendant.

  THE FIRST SOLDIER: Aye, and our signal my lord's hunting-horn thricewinded--

  Thus did they talk, with laughter loud and deep, While nearer yet the hooded hag did creep; But:-- Now blew the brazen clarions might and main, Which done, the portly Herald spake again:

  "Good people, all ye lords and ladies fair, Oyez! Now unto ye forthwith I do declare The charms of two fair dames beyond compare. Oyez! Oyez! Oyez! The first, our Duchess--Benedicta hight, That late from Tissingors, her town, took flight, To-day, returning here, doth bless our sight, And view the prowess of each valiant knight; Each champ-i-on, in shining armour dight, With blunted weapons gallantly shall fight. And, watched by eyes of ladies beamy-bright, Inspired and strengthened by this sweet eye-light, Shall quit themselves with very main and might; The second:--in her beauty Beauty's peer, Yolande the Fair, unto our Duchess dear, For whose sweet charms hath splintered many a spear, Throned with our lovely Duchess, sitteth here With her bright charms all gallant hearts to cheer. Now, ye brave knights, that nought but Cupid fear, To these sweet dames give eye, to me give ear! Oyez! 'Tis now declared--"

  My daughter GILLIAN expostulateth:

  GILL: O, father, now You must allow That your herald is rather a bore. He talks such a lot, And it seems frightful rot--

  MYSELF: I hate slang, miss! I told you before! If my herald says much, Yet he only says such As by heralds was said in those days; Though their trumpets they blew, It is none the less true That they blew them in other folks' praise. If my herald verbose is And gives us large doses Of high-sounding rodomontade, You'll find they spoke so In the long, long ago, So blame not--O, blame not the bard. But while we are prating Our herald stands waiting In a perfectly terrible fume, So, my dear, here and now, The poor chap we'll allow His long-winded speech to resume:

  "'Tis here declared by order of the Ten, Fair Benedicta's guardians--worthy men! Thus they decree--ye lovers all rejoice! She shall by their command, this day make choice Of him--O, him! O blest, thrice blessed he Who must anon her lord and husband be. 'Tis so pronounced by her grave guardians ten, By them made law--and they right reverend men! And this the law--our lady, be it said, This day shall choose the husband she must wed; And he who wins our Duchess for his own Crowned by her love shall mount to ducal throne, So let each knight, by valiant prowess, prove Himself most worthy to our lady's love. Now make I here an end, and ending, pray Ye quit you all like val'rous knights this day."

  Thus spake the Chief Herald and so paced solemnly down the lists while thelong clarions filled the air with gallant music. But the lovely Benedicta,throned beneath silken canopy, knit her black brows and clenched slenderhands and stamped dainty foot, yet laughed thereafter, whereupon Yolande,leaning to kiss her flushed cheek, questioned her, wondering:

  "How say'st thou to this, my loved Benedicta?"

  Quoth the DUCHESS:

  "I say, my sweeting, 'tis quite plain That I must run away again!

  Howbeit I care not one rush for their laws! Marry forsooth--a fig! Let themmake laws an they will, these reverend, right troublesome grey-beards ofmine, they shall never wed me but to such a man as Love shall choose me,and loving him--him only will I wed, be he great or lowly, rich or poor,worthy or unworthy, so I do love him, as is the sweet and wondrous way oflove."

  "Ah, Benedicta! what is love?"

  "A joy that cometh but of itself, all unsought! This wisdom had I of a Fooli' the forest. Go learn you of this same Fool and sigh not, dear wench."

  "Nay, but," sighed Yolande, lovely cheeks a-flush, "what of SirAgramore--hath he not sworn to wed thee?"

  "I do fear Sir Agramore no longer, Yolande, since I have found me one maycope with him perchance--even as did a Fool with my Lord Gui of Ells upon atune. Art sighing again, sweet maid?"

  "Nay, indeed--and wherefore should I sigh?"

  "At mention of a Fool, belike."

  "Ah, no, no, 'twere shame in me, Benedicta! A Fool forsooth!"

  "Yet Fool of all fools singular, Yolande. And for all his motley a veryman, methinks, and of a proud, high bearing."

  Here Yolande's soft cheek grew rosy again:

  "Yet is he but motley Fool--and his face--marred hatefully--"

  "Hast seen him smile, Yolande, for then--how, dost sigh again, my sweet?"

  "Nay, indeed; but talk we of other matters--thy so sudden flight--tell meall that chanced thee, dearest Benedicta."

  "Why first--in thine ear, Yolande--my jewel is not--see!"

  "How--how, alas! O most sweet lady--hast lost it? Thy royal amulet?"

  "Bestowed it, Yolande."

  "Benedicta! On whom?"

  "A poor soldier. One that saved me i' the forest from many of SirAgramore's verderers--a man very tall and strong and brave, but dight inragged cloak and rusty mail--"

  "Ragged? A thief--"

  "Mayhap!"

  "An outlaw--"

  "Mayhap!"

  "A wolf's-head--a wild man and fierce."

  "True he is very wild and very fierce, but very, very gentle--"

  "And didst give to such thy jewel? O Benedicta! The Heart-in-heart?"

  "Freely--gladly! He begged it of me very humbly and all unknowing what itsignified--"

  "O my loved Benedicta, alas!"

  "O my sweet Yolande, joy!"

  "But if he should claim thee, and he so poor and wild and ragge
d--"

  "If he should, Yolande, if he should--

  'He that taketh Heart-in-heart, Taketh all and every part.'

  O, if he should, Yolande, then I--must fulfil the prophecy. Nay, dear myfriend, stare not so great and sadly-eyed, he knoweth not the virtue of thejewel nor have I seen him these many days."

  "And must thou sigh therefore, Benedicta?"

  But now the trumpets blew a fanfare, and forth rode divers gallant knights,who, spurring rearing steeds, charged amain to gore, to smite and battereach other with right good will while the concourse shouted, caps waved andscarves and ribands fluttered.

  But here, methinks, it booteth not to tell Of every fierce encounter that befell; How knight 'gainst knight drove fierce with pointless spear And met with shock that echoed far and near; Or how, though they with blunted swords did smite, Sore battered was full many a luckless wight. But as the day advanced and sun rose high Full often rose the shout: "A Gui--A Gui!" For many a proud (though bruised and breathless) lord, Red Gui's tough lance smote reeling on the sward; And ever as these plaudits shook the air, Through vizored casque at Yolande he would stare.

  And beholding all the beauty of her he smiled evilly and muttered tohimself, glancing from her to certain lusty men-at-arms who, lolling'gainst the barriers, bore at back and breast his badge of the bloody hand.

  But the fair Yolande heeded him none at all, sitting with eyes a-dreamand sighing ever and anon; insomuch that the Duchess, watching her slyly,sighed amain also and presently spake:

  "Indeed, and O verily, Yolande, meseemeth we do sigh and for ever sigh,thou and I, like two poor, love-sick maids. How think'st thou?"

  "Nay, O Benedicta, hearken! See, who rideth yonder?"

  Now even as thus fair Yolanda spoke, A horn's shrill note on all men's hearing broke, And all eyes turned where rode a gallant knight, In burnished armour sumptuously bedight. His scarlet plumes 'bove gleaming helm a-dance, His bannerole a-flutter from long lance, His gaudy shield with new-popped blazon glowed: Three stooping falcons that on field vert showed; But close-shut vizor hid from all his face As thus he rode at easy, ambling pace.

  "Now as I live!" cried Benedicta. "By his device yon should be that foolishknight Sir Palamon of Tong!"

  "Aye, truly!" sighed Yolande. "Though he wear no motley hither ridethindeed a very fool. And look, Benedicta--look! O, sure never rode knight inlike array--see how the very populace groweth dumb in its amaze!"

  For now the crowd in wonderment grew mute, To see this knight before him bare a lute, While blooming roses his great helmet crowned, They wreathed his sword, his mighty lance around. Thus decked rode he in rosy pageantry, And up the lists he ambled leisurely; Till, all at once, from the astonied crowd There brake a hum that swelled to laughter loud; But on he rode, nor seemed to reck or heed, Till 'neath the balcony he checked his steed. Then, handing lance unto his tall esquire, He sudden struck sweet chord upon his lyre, And thus, serene, his lute he plucked until The laughter died and all stood hushed and still; Then, hollow in his helm, a clear voice rang, As, through his lowered vizor, thus he sang:

  "A gentle knight behold in me, (Unless my blazon lie!) For on my shield behold and see, Upon field vert, gules falcons three, Surcharged with heart ensanguiney, To prove to one and all of ye, A love-lorn knight am I."

  But now cometh (and almost in haste) the haughty and right dignified ChiefHerald with pursuivants attendant, which latter having trumpeted amain,the Herald challenged thus:

  "Messire, by the device upon thy shield, We know my Lord of Tong is in the field; But pray thee now declare, pronounce, expound, Why thus ye ride with foolish roses crowned?"

  Whereto the Knight maketh answer forthwith:

  "If foolish be these flowers I bear, Then fool am I, I trow. Yet, in my folly, fool doth swear, These flowers to fool an emblem rare Of one, to fool, more sweet, more fair, E'en she that is beyond compare, A flower perchance for fool to wear, Who shall his foolish love declare Till she, mayhap, fool's life may share, Nor shall this fool of love despair, Till foolish hie shall go.

  "For life were empty, life were vain, If true love come not nigh, Though honours, fortune, all I gain, Yet poorer I than poor remain, If true-love from me fly; So here I pray, If that thou may, Ah--never pass me by!"

  Here the Chief Herald frowned, puffing his cheeks, and waved his ebonystaff authoritatively.

  Quoth he: "Enough, Sir Knight! Here is no place for love! For inasmuch aswe--"

  THE KNIGHT: Gentle Herald, I being here, here is Love, since I am lover,therefore love-full, thus where I go goeth Love--

  The Herald: Apprehend me, Sir Knight! For whereas love hath no part in--

  The Knight: Noble Herald, Love hath every part within me and without, thusI, from Love apart, have no part, and my love no part apart from my everypart; wherefore, for my part, and on my part, ne'er will I with Love partfor thy part and this to thee do I impart--

  "Sweet Saints aid us!" The Chief Herald clasped his massy brow and gazedwith eye distraught. "Sir Knight--messire--my very good and noble Lord ofTong--I grope! Here is that which hath a seeming ... thy so many partsportend somewhat ... and yet ... I excogitate ... yet grope I still ...impart, part ... thy part and its part ... so many parts ... and roses ...and songs o' love ... a lute! O, thundering Mars, I ... Sound, trumpets!"

  But the Duchess up-starting, silenced Herald and trumpeters with imperioushand.

  "Sir Knight of Tong," said she, "'tis told thou'rt of nimble tongue and amaker of songs, so we bid thee sing if thy song be of Love--for Love isa thing little known and seldom understood these days. Here be very manynoble knights wondrous learned in the smiting of buffets, but little else;here be noble dames very apt at the play of eyes, the twining of fingers,the languishment of sighs, that, seeking True-love, find but its shadow;and here also grey beards that have forgot the very name of Love. So we bidthee sing us of Love--True-love, what it is. Our ears attend thee!"

  "Gracious lady," answered the Knight, "gladly do I obey. But Love ismighty and I lowly, and may speak of Love but from mine own humility. Andthough much might be said of Love since Love's empire is the universe andLove immortal, yet will I strive to portray this mighty thing that isTrue-love in few, poor words."

  Then, plucking sweet melody from his lute, the Knight sang as herefolloweth:

  "What is Love? 'Tis this, I say, Flower that springeth in a day Ne'er to die or fade away Since True-love dieth never.

  "Though youth, alas! too soon shall wane, Though friend prove false and effort vain, True-love all changeless doth remain The same to-day and ever."

  Now while the clarions rang out proclaiming Sir Palamon's defiance,Benedicta looked on Yolande and Yolande on Benedicta:

  "O, wonderful!" cried the Duchess. "My Lord of Tong hath found him manhoodand therewith a wisdom beyond most and singeth such love as methought onlyangels knew and maids might vision in their dreams. Ah, Yolande--thatsuch a love could be ... e'en though he went ragged and poor in all butlove...."

  "Benedicta," sighed Yolande, hands clasped on swelling bosom, "O Benedicta,here is no foolish Lord of Tong ... and yet ... O, I am mad!"

  "Why, then, 'tis sweet madness! So, my Yolande, let us be mad awhiletogether ... thou--a Fool ... and I--a beggar-rogue!"

  "Nay--alas, dear Benedicta! This were shame--"

  "And forsooth is it shame doth swell thy heart, Yolande, light the glamourin thine eyes and set thee a-tremble--e'en as I? Nay indeed, thou'rta-thrill with Folly ... and I, with Roguery. Loved Folly! Sweet Roguery! OYolande, let us fly from empty state, from this mockery of life andlearn the sweet joys of ... of beggary, and, crowned with poverty, clasplife--"

  MYSELF, myself interrupting: By the way, my dear, you'll understand, Though this is very fine, Still, her Grace's counsel to Yolande Must not be in your line! Not that I'd have you wed for wealth, Or many a beggar-man by stealth, But I would have you, if you can--


  GILL: Marry some strong, stern, silent man, Named Mark, and with hair slightly gray by the ears! Now he's just the sort who would bore me to tears. If I for a husband feel ever inclined, I shall choose quite an ordin'ry husband--the kind With plenty of money and nothing to do, With a nice, comfy house, and a motor or two--

  MYSELF: That's all very fine, miss, but what would you do If he, by some ill-chance, quite penniless grew?

  GILL: Oh, why then--why, of course, I should get a divorce--

  MYSELF: A divorce? Gracious heaven! For goodness' sake--

  GILL: 'Twould be the most dignified action to take!

  MYSELF: Pray, what in the world of such things do you know?

  GILL: Well, father, like you--each day older I grow. But, instead of discussing poor me, I think you would much nicer be To get on with our Geste.

  MYSELF: I obey your behest!

  Said Yolande to the duchess, said she:

  "Nay, my Benedicta, these be only dreams, but life is real and dreams avery emptiness!"

  "And is 't so, forsooth?" exclaimed the Duchess. "Then am I nought but aduchess and lonely, thou a maid fearful of her own heart, and yon singer oflove only a very futile knight, Sir Palamon of Tong, nothing esteemed bythee for wit or valour and little by his peers--see how his challengers dothrong. How think you?" But the lady Yolande sat very still and silent,only she stared, great-eyed, where danced the scarlet plume.

  And indeed many and divers were the knights who, beholding the blazon ofTong, sent the bearer their defiance, eager to cope with him; and eachand every challenge Sir Palamon accepted by mouth of his tall esquire who(vizor closed, even as his lord's) spake the Chief Herald in loud, merryvoice, thus:

  "Sir Herald, whereas and forinasmuch as this, my Lord of Tong himself,himself declaring fool, is so himself-like as to meet in combat each andevery of his challengers--themselves ten, my lord that is fool, himselfhimself so declaring, now declareth by me that am no fool but only humbleesquire--messire, I say, doth his esquire require that I, the saidesquire, should on his part impart as followeth, namely and to wit: Thatthese ten gentle knights, the said challengers, shall forthwith ofthemselves choose of themselves, themselves among themselves theretoagreeing, which of themselves, among themselves of themselves so chosen,shall first in combat adventure himself against my Lord of Tong himself.And moreover, should Fortune my lord bless with victory, the nineremaining shall among themselves choose, themselves agreeing, which ofthemselves shall next, thus chosen of themselves, themselves represent insingle combat with this very noble, fool-like Lord of Tong, my master.Furthermore, whereas and notwithstanding--"

  "Hold, sir!" cried the Chief Herald, fingering harassed brow. "Pray thee'bate--O, abate thy speechful fervour. Here forsooth and of truth isnotable saying--O, most infallibly--and yet perchance something discursiveand mayhap a little involved."

  "Nay, Sir Herald," quoth the esquire, "if involved 'twill be resolved ifrevolved, thus: Here be ten lords would fight one, and one--that is my lordwho is but one--ten fight one by one. But that ten, fighting one, may asone fight, let it be agreed that of these ten one be chosen one to fight,so shall one fight one and every one be satisfied--every one of these tenfighting one, one by one. Thus shall ten be one, and one ten fight one byone till one be discomfited. Shall we accord the matter simply, thus?"

  "Sir," quoth the Chief Herald, gasping a little, "Amen!"

  "O!" cried the Duchess, clapping her hands, "O Yolande, hark to this rareesquire! Surely, I have heard yon cunning tongue ere this?"

  But Yolande gazed ever where Sir Palamon, having taken his station, sethimself in array. For now, the ten knights having chosen one to representthem, forth rode their champion resplendent in shining mail and greensurcoat with heralds before to proclaim his name and rank.

  "Yolande," quoth the Duchess softly, "pray--pray this Lord of Tong maytilt as bravely as he doth sing, for Sir Thomas of Thornydyke is a notablejouster."

  The trumpets blew a fanfare and, levelling their pointless lances, bothknights gave spur, their great horses reared, broke into a gallop andthundered towards each other.

  But hard midway upon the green surcoat, Sir Palamon's stout lance so truly smote, That, 'neath the shock, the bold Sir Thomas reeled And, losing stirrups, saddle, lance and shield, Down, down upon the ling outstretched he fell And, losing all, lost breath and speech as well. Thus, silent all, the bold Sir Thomas lay, Though much, and many things, he yearned to say, Which things his squires and pages might surmise From the expression of his fish-like eyes E'en as they bore him from that doleful place; While, near and far, from all the populace, Rose shout on shout that echoed loud and long: "Sir Palamon! Sir Palamon of Tong!" So came these ten good knights, but, one by one, They fell before this bold Sir Palamon, Whose lance unerring smote now helm, now shield, That many an one lay rolling on the field. But each and all themselves did vanquished yield; And loud and louder did the plaudits grow, That one knight should so many overthrow. Even Sir Gui, within his silken tent Scowled black in ever-growing wonderment.

  But the Knight of Tong, his gaudy shield a little battered, his finesurcoat frayed and torn, leaped from his wearied steed and forthwithmounted one held by his tall esquire, a mighty charger that tossed proudhead and champed his bit, pawing impatient hoof.

  "Aha!" quoth the esquire, pointing to ten fair steeds held by ten fairpages. "Oho, good brother, most puissant Knight of Tong, here is good andrich booty--let us begone!"

  "Nay," answered the Knight, tossing aside his blunt tilting-spear, "here isan end to sportful dalliance--reach me my lance!"

  "Ha, is't now the Red Gui's turn, brother? The Saints aid thee, in especialtwo, that, being women, are yet no saints yet awhile--see how they watchthee, sweet, gentle dames! Their prayers go with thee, methinks, brother,and mine also, for the Red Gui is forsooth a valiant rogue!"

  And now, mounted on the great black war-horse, the Knight of Tong rode upthe lists:

  His scarlet plume 'bove shining helm a-dance, His bannerole a-flutter from long lance, Till he was come where, plain for all to spy, Was hung the shield and blazon of Sir Gui, With bends and bars in all their painted glory, Surcharged with hand ensanguined--gules or gory.

  Full upon this bloody hand smote the sharp point of Sir Palamon's lance;whereupon the watching crowd surged and swayed and hummed expectant, sincehere was to be no play with blunted weapons but a deadly encounter.

  Up started Sir Gui and strode forth of his tent, grim-smiling andconfident. Quoth he:

  "Ha, my Lord of Tong, thou'rt grown presumptuous and over-venturesome,methinks. But since life thou dost hold so cheap prepare ye for deathforthright!"

  So spake the Lord of Ells and, beckoning to his esquires, did on his greattilting-helm and rode into the lists, whereon was mighty roar of welcome,for, though much hated, he was esteemed mighty at arms, and the acceptedchampion of the Duchy. So while the people thundered their acclaim the twoknights galloped to their stations and, reining about, faced each otherfrom either end of the lists,

  And halted thus, their deadly spears they couched, With helms stooped low, behind their shields they crouched; Now rang the clarions; goading spurs struck deep, The mighty chargers reared with furious leap And, like two whirlwinds, met in full career, To backward reel 'neath shock of splintering spear: But, all unshaken, every eye might see The bloody hand, the scarred gules falcons three. Thrice thus they met, but at the fourth essay, Rose sudden shout of wonder and dismay, For, smitten sore through riven shield, Sir Gui Thudded to earth there motionless to lie.

  Thus Sir Gui, Lord of Ells and Seneschal of Raddemore, wounded and utterlydiscomfited, was borne raging to his pavilion while the air rang with theblare of trumpet and clarion in honour of the victor. Thereafter, since noother knight thought it prudent to challenge him, Sir Palamon of Tong wasdeclared champion of the tournament, and was summoned by the ChiefHerald to receive the victor's crown. But even as h
e rode towards thesilk-curtained balcony, a distant trumpet shrilled defiance, and into thelists galloped a solitary knight.

  Well-armed was he in proud and war-like trim, Of stature tall and wondrous long of limb; 'Neath red surcoat black was the mail he wore; His glitt'ring shield a rampant leopard bore, Beholding which the crowd cried in acclaim, "Ho for Sir Agramore of Biename!"

  But from rosy-red to pale, from pale to rosy-red flushed the DuchessBenedicta, and clenching white teeth, she frowned upon Sir Agramore'sfierce and warlike figure. Quoth she:

  "Oh, sure there is no man so vile or so unworthy in all Christendom as thisvile Lord of Biename!"

  "Unless," said Yolande, frowning also, "unless it be my Lord Gui of Ells!"

  "True, my Yolanda! Now, as thou dost hate Sir Gui so hate I Sir Agramore,therefore pray we sweet maid, petition we the good Saints our valiantsinger shall serve my hated Sir Agramore as he did thy hated Sir Gui--mayhe be bruised, may he be battered, may--"

  "Oho, 'tis done, my sweeting! A-hee--a-hi, 'tis done!" croaked a voice, andstarting about, the Duchess beheld a bent and hag-like creature,

  With long, sharp nose that showed beneath her hood, A nose that curved as every witch's should, And glittering eye, before whose baleful light, The fair Yolande shrank back in sudden fright.

  "Nay, my Yolande," cried the Duchess, "hast forgot old Mopsa, myfoster-mother, that, being a wise-woman, fools decry as witch, and myten grave and learned guardians have banished therefor? Hast forgot myloved and faithful Mopsa that is truly the dearest, gentlest, wisestwitch that e'er witched rogue or fool? But O Mopsa, wisemother--would'st thou might plague and bewitch in very truth yon basecaitiff knight, Sir Agramore of Biename!"

  "'Tis done, loved daughter, 'tis done!" chuckled the Witch.

  "He groaneth, He moaneth, He aileth, He waileth, Lying sighing, Nigh to dying, Oho, I know 'Tis so. With bones right sore, Both 'hind and fore, Sir Agramore Doth ache all o'er.

  "He aileth sore yet waileth more--oho! I know, I have seen--in the chalk,in the ink, in the smoke--I looked and saw

  "Sir Agramore, By bold outlaw, Bethwacked most sore As told before--"

  "Nay, but, good Mopsa, how may this be? Sir Agramore rideth armed yonder,plain to my sight."

  "Child, I have told thee sooth," croaked the Witch. "Have patience, watchand be silent, and shalt grow wise as old Mopsa--mayhap--in time.

  "For, 'tis written in the chalk, Sore is he and may not walk. O, sing heart merrily! I have seen within the smoke Bones bethwacked by lusty stroke, Within the ink I looked and saw, Swathed in clouts, Sir Agramore; Dread of him for thee is o'er, By reason of a bold outlaw. Sing, heart, and joyful be!"

  "Go to, Mopsa, thou'rt mad!" quoth the Duchess. "For yonder is this hatedlord very strong and hale, and in well-being whiles thou dost rave! Trulythou'rt run mad, methinks!"

  But the old Witch only mumbled and mowed, and cracked her finger-bones asis the custom of witches.

  Meantime, Sir Agramore, checking his fiery charger and brandishing heavylance fiercely aloft, roared loud defiance:

  "What ho! Ye knights, lords, esquires, and lovers of lusty blows, hithercome I with intent, sincere and hearty, to bicker with, fight, combat andwithstand all that will--each and every, a-horse or a-foot, with sword,battleaxe or lance. Now all ye that love good blows--have at ye!"

  Here ensued great clamour and a mighty blowing of trumpets that waxed yetlouder when it was proclaimed that Sir Palamon, as champion of the day, hadaccepted Sir Agramore's haughty challenge.

  And now all was hushed as these two doughty knights faced each other and,as the trumpets brayed, charged furiously to meet with thunderous shock ofbreaking lances and reeling horses that, rearing backwards, fell crashingupon the torn and trampled grass. But their riders, leaping clear oflashing hooves, drew their swords and, wasting no breath in words, beseteach other forthwith, smiting with right good will.

  Sir Agramore's leopard shield was riven in twain by a single stroke, SirPalamon's scarlet plume was shorn away, but they fought only the fierceras, all untiring, the long blades whirled and flashed until their armourrang, sparks flew, and the populace rocked and swayed and roared for veryjoy. Once Sir Agramore was beaten to his knees, but rising, grasped hissword in two hands and smote a mighty swashing blow, a direful stroke thatburst the lacing of Sir Palamon's great helm and sent it rolling on thesward. But, beholding thus his adversary's face, Sir Agramore, crying insudden amaze, sprang back; for men all might see a visage framed in long,black-curled hair, grey-eyed, but a face so direly scarred that none,having seen it but once, might well forget.

  "Par Dex!" panted Sir Agramore, lifting his vizor.

  "Pertinax!" gasped Duke Jocelyn. "O Pertinax--thou loved and lovelysmiter--ne'er have I been so sore battered ere now!"

  Hereupon all folk stared in hugeous wonderment to behold these twochampions drop their swords and leap to clasp and hug each other in mightyarms, to pat each other's mailed shoulders and grasp each other's mailedhands. Quoth Sir Pertinax:

  "Lord, how came ye in this guise?"

  "My Pertinax, whence stole ye that goodly armour?"

  "Lord, oath made I to requite one Sir Agramore of Biename for certain felonblow. Him sought I latterly therefore, and this day met him journeyinghither, and so, after some disputation, I left him lying by the way, norshall he need armour awhile, methinks--wherefore I took it and rode hitherseeking what might befall--"

  But here, Sir Gui, all heedless of his wound, started up from his couch,raising great outcry:

  "Ha--roguery, roguery! Ho, there, seize me yon knave that beareth thecognizance of Tong. Ha--treason, treason!" At this, others took up the cryand divers among the throng, beholding Duke Jocelyn's scarred features,made loud tumults: "The Fool! The Fool! 'Tis the Singing Motley! 'Tis therogue-Fool that broke prison--seize him! Seize him!" And many, togetherwith the soldiery, came running.

  "Lord," quoth Sir Pertinax, catching up his sword, "here now is like to bea notable, sweet affray!" But even as these twain turned to meet their manyassailants was thunder of hoofs, a loud, merry voice reached them, and theysaw Robin hard by who held two trampling chargers.

  "Mount, brothers--mount!" he cried. "Mount, then spur we for the barriers!"So they sprang to saddle and, spurring the rearing horses, galloped forthe barriers, all three, nor was there any who dare stay them or abide thesweep of those long swords. Thus, leaping the barriers, they galloped awayand left behind roaring tumult and dire confusion.

  And amid all this, hid by the silken curtains of her balcony, the DuchessBenedicta uttered a joyous cry and, clasping Yolande in her arms, kissedher rapturously.

  "Yolande!" she cried, "O dear my friend, thou didst see--even as did I--asorry fool and a poor rogue-soldier at hand-strokes with each other--O wiseFool! O knightly Rogue! Come, let us fly, Yolande, let us to the wild-woodand, lost therein, love, True-love, methinks, shall find us. Nay--ask menothing, only hear this. Be thou to thine own heart true, be thou brave andShame shall fly thee since True-love out-faceth Shame! How say'st thou,Mopsa, thou wise witch-mother?"

  "Ah, sweet children!" croaked the Witch, touching each with claw-like handyet hand wondrous gentle. "True-love shall indeed find ye, hide where yewill. For True-love, though blind, they say, hath eyes to see all that isgood and sweet and true. A poor man-at-arms in rusty mail may yet be trueman and a fool, for all his motley, wise. To love such seemeth great folly,yet to the old, love is but folly. Nath'less, being old I do love ye, andbeing wise I charge ye:

  "Follow Folly and be wise, In such folly wisdom lies; Love's blind, they say, but Love hath eyes, So follow Folly--follow!"

  My daughter GILLIAN animadverteth:

  GILL: "Stop! Your tournament, father, seems too long drawn out, With quite too much combating and knocking about.

  MYSELF: I hope you're wrong, my dear, although Who knows? Perhaps, it may be so.

  GILL: And such scrappy bits of love-making you write; Y
ou seem to prefer much describing a fight. All authors should write what their readers like best; But authors are selfish, yes--even the best And you are an author!

  MYSELF: Alack, that is true, And, among other things, I'm the author of you.

  GILL: Then, being my author, it's plain as can be That you are to blame if I'm naughty--not me. But, father, our Geste, though quite corking in places, Has too many fights and too little embraces. You've made all our lovers so frightfully slow, You ought to have married them pages ago. The books that are nicest are always the sort That, when you have read them, seem always too short! If you make all your readers impatient like me, They'll buy none of your books--and then where shall we be? All people like reading of love when they can, So write them a lot, father, that is the plan. Go on to the love, then, for every one's sake, And end with a wedding--

  MYSELF: Your counsel I 'll take. I can woo them and wed them in less than no time, I can do it in prose, in blank verse, or in rhyme; But since, my dear, you are for speed, To end our Geste I will proceed. In many ways it may be done, As I have told you--here is one:

  A short two years have elapsed and we find our hero Jocelyn tenderlyplaying with a golden-haired prattler, his beloved son and heir, while hisbeautiful spouse Yolande busied with her needle, smiles through happytears.

  GILL: O, hush, father! Of course, that is simply absurd! Such terrible piffle--

  MYSELF: I object to that word!

  GILL: Well, then, please try a little verse.

  MYSELF: With pleasure:

  "My own at last!" Duke Joc'lyn fondly cried, And kissed Yolande, his blooming, blushing bride. "My own!" he sighed. "My own--my very own!" "Thine, love!" she murmured. "Thine and thine alone, Thy very own for days and months and years--"

  GILL: O, stop! I think that's even worse!

  MYSELF: Beyond measure.

  Then here's a style may be admired Since brevity is so desired:

  So he married her and she married him, and everybody married each other and lived happy ever after.

  Or again, and thus, my daughter, Versified it may be shorter:

  So all was marriage, joy and laughter, And each lived happy ever after.

  Or: If for High Romance you sigh, Here's Romance that's over high:

  Shy summer swooned to autumn's sun-burned arms, Swoon, summer, swoon! While roses bloomed and blushing sighed their pain, Blush, roses, blush!

  Filling the world with perfume languorous, Sighing forth their souls in fragrant amorousness; And fair Yolande, amid these bloomful languors, Blushing as they, as languorous, as sweet, Sighed in the arms that passioned her around: O Jocelyn, O lord of my delight, See how--

  GILL: Stop, father, stop, I beg of you. Such awful stuff will never do, I suppose you must finish it in your own way--

  MYSELF: I suppose that I shall, child, that is--if I may.

  GILL: But father, wait--I must insist Whatever else you do It's time that somebody was kissed It doesn't matter who-- I mean either Yolande the Fair Or else the Duchess--I don't care.

  MYSELF: In these next two Fyttes both shall kiss And be well kissed, I promise this. Two Fyttes of kisses I will make One after t' other, for your sake. Two Fyttes of love I will invent And make them both quite different, Which is a trying matter rather And difficult for any father-- But then, as well you know, my Gillian, You have a father in a million; And Oh, methinks 'tis very plain You ne'er shall meet his like again.