VII
THE LAY OF THE TWO LOVERS
Once upon a time there lived in Normandy two lovers, who were passingfond, and were brought by Love to Death. The story of their love wasbruited so abroad, that the Bretons made a song in their own tongue,and named this song the Lay of the Two Lovers.
In Neustria--that men call Normandy--there is verily a high andmarvellously great mountain, where lie the relics of the Two Children.Near this high place the King of those parts caused to be built acertain fair and cunning city, and since he was lord of the Pistrians,it was known as Pistres. The town yet endures, with its towers andhouses, to bear witness to the truth; moreover the country thereaboutsis known to us all as the Valley of Pistres.
This King had one fair daughter, a damsel sweet of face and graciousof manner, very near to her father's heart, since he had lost hisQueen. The maiden increased in years and favour, but he took no heedto her trothing, so that men--yea, even his own people--blamed himgreatly for this thing. When the King heard thereof he was passingheavy and dolent, and considered within himself how he might bedelivered from this grief. So then, that none should carry off hischild, he caused it to be proclaimed, both far and near, by script andtrumpet, that he alone should wed the maid, who would bear her in hisarms, to the pinnacle of the great and perilous mountain, and thatwithout rest or stay. When this news was noised about the country,many came upon the quest. But strive as they would they might notenforce themselves more than they were able. However mighty they wereof body, at the last they failed upon the mountain, and fell withtheir burthen to the ground. Thus, for a while, was none so bold as toseek the high Princess.
Now in this country lived a squire, son to a certain count of thatrealm, seemly of semblance and courteous, and right desirous to winthat prize, which was so coveted of all. He was a welcome guest at theCourt, and the King talked with him very willingly. This squire hadset his heart upon the daughter of the King, and many a time spoke inher ear, praying her to give him again the love he had bestowed uponher. So seeing him brave and courteous, she esteemed him for the giftswhich gained him the favour of the King, and they loved together intheir youth. But they hid this matter from all about the Court. Thisthing was very grievous to them, but the damoiseau thought withinhimself that it were good to bear the pains he knew, rather thanto seek out others that might prove sharper still. Yet in the end,altogether distraught by love, this prudent varlet sought his friend,and showed her his case, saying that he urgently required of her thatshe would flee with him, for no longer could he endure the wearinessof his days. Should he ask her of the King, well he knew that byreason of his love he would refuse the gift, save he bore her in hisarms up the steep mount. Then the maiden made answer to her lover, andsaid,
"Fair friend, well I know you may not carry me to that high place.Moreover should we take to flight, my father would suffer wrath andsorrow beyond measure, and go heavily all his days. Certainly my loveis too fond to plague him thus, and we must seek another counsel, forthis is not to my heart. Hearken well. I have kindred in Salerno, ofrich estate. For more than thirty years my aunt has studied there theart of medicine, and knows the secret gift of every root and herb.If you hasten to her, bearing letters from me, and show her youradventure, certainly she will find counsel and cure. Doubt not thatshe will discover some cunning simple, that will strengthen your body,as well as comfort your heart. Then return to this realm with yourpotion, and ask me at my father's hand. He will deem you but astripling, and set forth the terms of his bargain, that to him aloneshall I be given who knows how to climb the perilous mountain, withoutpause or rest, bearing his lady between his arms."
When the varlet heard this cunning counsel of the maiden, he rejoicedgreatly, and thanking her sweetly for her rede, craved permission todepart. He returned to his own home, and gathering together a goodlystore of silken cloths most precious, he bestowed his gear upon thepack horses, and made him ready for the road. So with a little companyof men, mounted on swift palfreys, and most privy to his mind, hearrived at Salerno. Now the squire made no long stay at his lodging,but as soon as he might, went to the damsel's kindred to open out hismind. He delivered to the aunt the letters he carried from his friend,and bewailed their evil case. When the dame had read these letterswith him, line by line, she charged him to lodge with her awhile, tillshe might do according to his wish. So by her sorceries, and forthe love of her maid, she brewed such a potion that no man, howeverwearied and outworn, but by drinking this philtre, would not berefreshed in heart and blood and bones. Such virtue had this medicine,directly it were drunken. This simple she poured within a littleflacket, and gave it to the varlet, who received the gift with greatjoy and delight, and returned swiftly to his own land.
The varlet made no long sojourn in his home. He repaired straightwayto the Court, and, seeking out the King, required of him his fairdaughter in marriage, promising, for his part, that were she givenhim, he would bear her in his arms to the summit of the mount. TheKing was no wise wrath at his presumption. He smiled rather at hisfolly, for how should one so young and slender succeed in a businesswherein so many mighty men had failed. Therefore he appointed acertain day for this judgment. Moreover he caused letters to bewritten to his vassals and his friends--passing none by--bidding themto see the end of this adventure. Yea, with public cry and sound oftrumpet he bade all who would, come to behold the stripling carry hisfair daughter to the pinnacle of the mountain. And from every regionround about men came to learn the issue of this thing. But for herpart the fair maiden did all that she was able to bring her love to agood end. Ever was it fast day and fleshless day with her, so that byany means she might lighten the burthen that her friend must carry inhis arms.
Now on the appointed day this young dansellon came very early to theappointed place, bringing the flacket with him. When the great companywere fully met together, the King led forth his daughter before them;and all might see that she was arrayed in nothing but her smock. Thevarlet took the maiden in his arms, but first he gave her the flaskwith the precious brewage to carry, since for pride he might notendure to drink therefrom, save at utmost peril. The squire set forthat a great pace, and climbed briskly till he was halfway up the mount.Because of the joy he had in clasping his burthen, he gave no thoughtto the potion. But she--she knew the strength was failing in hisheart.
"Fair friend," said she, "well I know that you tire: drink now, I prayyou, of the flacket, and so shall your manhood come again at need."
But the varlet answered,
"Fair love, my heart is full of courage; nor for any reason will Ipause, so long as I can hold upon my way. It is the noise of all thisfolk--the tumult and the shouting--that makes my steps uncertain.Their cries distress me, I do not dare to stand."
But when two thirds of the course was won, the grasshopper would havetripped him off his feet. Urgently and often the maiden prayed him,saying,
"Fair friend, drink now of thy cordial."
But he would neither hear, nor give credence to her words. A mightyanguish filled his bosom. He climbed upon the summit of the mountain,and pained himself grievously to bring his journey to an end. This hemight not do. He reeled and fell, nor could he rise again, for theheart had burst within his breast.
When the maiden saw her lover's piteous plight, she deemed that he hadswooned by reason of his pain. She kneeled hastily at his side, andput the enchanted brewage to his lips, but he could neither drink norspeak, for he was dead, as I have told you. She bewailed his evil lot,with many shrill cries, and flung the useless flacket far away. Theprecious potion bestrewed the ground, making a garden of that desolateplace. For many saving herbs have been found there since that day bythe simple folk of that country, which from the magic philtre derivedall their virtue.
But when the maiden knew that her lover was dead, she made suchwondrous sorrow, as no man had ever seen. She kissed his eyes andmouth, and falling upon his body, took him in her arms, and pressedhim closely to her breast. There was no heart so hard as not to betouched by her sorrow; for in this fashion died a dame, who was fairand sweet and gracious, beyond the wont of the daughters of men.
Now the King and his company, since these two lovers came not again,presently climbed the mountain to learn their end. But when the Kingcame upon them lifeless, and fast in that embrace, incontinent he fellto the ground, bereft of sense. After his speech had returned to him,he was passing heavy, and lamented their doleful case, and thus didall his people with him.
Three days they kept the bodies of these two fair children from earth,with uncovered face. On the third day they sealed them fast in agoodly coffin of marble, and by the counsel of all men, laid themsoftly to rest on that mountain where they died. Then they departedfrom them, and left them together, alone.
Since this adventure of the Two Children this hill is known as theMountain of the Two Lovers, and their story being bruited abroad, theBreton folk have made a Lay thereof, even as I have rehearsed beforeyou.
VIII
THE LAY OF THE WERE-WOLF
Amongst the tales I tell you once again, I would not forget the Lay ofthe Were-Wolf. Such beasts as he are known in every land. Bisclavarethe is named in Brittany; whilst the Norman calls him Garwal.
It is a certain thing, and within the knowledge of all, that many achristened man has suffered this change, and ran wild in woods, asa Were-Wolf. The Were-Wolf is a fearsome beast. He lurks within thethick forest, mad and horrible to see. All the evil that he may, hedoes. He goeth to and fro, about the solitary place, seeking man, inorder to devour him. Hearken, now, to the adventure of the Were-Wolf,that I have to tell.
In Brittany there dwelt a baron who was marvellously esteemed of allhis fellows. He was a stout knight, and a comely, and a man of officeand repute. Right private was he to the mind of his lord, and dear tothe counsel of his neighbours. This baron was wedded to a very worthydame, right fair to see, and sweet of semblance. All his love was seton her, and all her love was given again to him. One only grief hadthis lady. For three whole days in every week her lord was absent fromher side. She knew not where he went, nor on what errand. Neither didany of his house know the business which called him forth.
On a day when this lord was come again to his house, altogetherjoyous and content, the lady took him to task, right sweetly, inthis fashion, "Husband," said she, "and fair, sweet friend, I have acertain thing to pray of you. Right willingly would I receive thisgift, but I fear to anger you in the asking. It is better for me tohave an empty hand, than to gain hard words."
When the lord heard this matter, he took the lady in his arms, verytenderly, and kissed her.
"Wife," he answered, "ask what you will. What would you have, for itis yours already?"
"By my faith," said the lady, "soon shall I be whole. Husband, rightlong and wearisome are the days that you spend away from your home.I rise from my bed in the morning, sick at heart, I know not why. Sofearful am I, lest you do aught to your loss, that I may not find anycomfort. Very quickly shall I die for reason of my dread. Tell me now,where you go, and on what business! How may the knowledge of one wholoves so closely, bring you to harm?"
"Wife," made answer the lord, "nothing but evil can come if I tell youthis secret. For the mercy of God do not require it of me. If you butknew, you would withdraw yourself from my love, and I should be lostindeed."
When the lady heard this, she was persuaded that her baron sought toput her by with jesting words. Therefore she prayed and requiredhim the more urgently, with tender looks and speech, till he wasoverborne, and told her all the story, hiding naught.
"Wife, I become Bisclavaret. I enter in the forest, and live on preyand roots, within the thickest of the wood."
After she had learned his secret, she prayed and entreated the more asto whether he ran in his raiment, or went spoiled of vesture.
"Wife," said he, "I go naked as a beast."
"Tell me, for hope of grace, what you do with your clothing?"
"Fair wife, that will I never. If I should lose my raiment, or even bemarked as I quit my vesture, then a Were-Wolf I must go for all thedays of my life. Never again should I become man, save in that hour myclothing were given back to me. For this reason never will I show mylair."
"Husband," replied the lady to him, "I love you better than all theworld. The less cause have you for doubting my faith, or hiding anytittle from me. What savour is here of friendship? How have I madeforfeit of your love; for what sin do you mistrust my honour? Open nowyour heart, and tell what is good to be known."
So at the end, outwearied and overborne by her importunity, he couldno longer refrain, but told her all.
"Wife," said he, "within this wood, a little from the path, there is ahidden way, and at the end thereof an ancient chapel, where oftentimesI have bewailed my lot. Near by is a great hollow stone, concealed bya bush, and there is the secret place where I hide my raiment, till Iwould return to my own home."
On hearing this marvel the lady became sanguine of visage, because ofher exceeding fear. She dared no longer to lie at his side, and turnedover in her mind, this way and that, how best she could get her fromhim. Now there was a certain knight of those parts, who, for a greatwhile, had sought and required this lady for her love. This knight hadspent long years in her service, but little enough had he got thereby,not even fair words, or a promise. To him the dame wrote a letter, andmeeting, made her purpose plain.
"Fair friend," said she, "be happy. That which you have coveted solong a time, I will grant without delay. Never again will I deny yoursuit. My heart, and all I have to give, are yours, so take me now aslove and dame."
Right sweetly the knight thanked her for her grace, and pledged herfaith and fealty. When she had confirmed him by an oath, then she toldhim all this business of her lord--why he went, and what he became,and of his ravening within the wood. So she showed him of the chapel,and of the hollow stone, and of how to spoil the Were-Wolf of hisvesture. Thus, by the kiss of his wife, was Bisclavaret betrayed.Often enough had he ravished his prey in desolate places, but fromthis journey he never returned. His kinsfolk and acquaintance cametogether to ask of his tidings, when this absence was noised abroad.Many a man, on many a day, searched the woodland, but none might findhim, nor learn where Bisclavaret was gone.
The lady was wedded to the knight who had cherished her for so long aspace. More than a year had passed since Bisclavaret disappeared. Thenit chanced that the King would hunt in that self-same wood where theWere-Wolf lurked. When the hounds were unleashed they ran this way andthat, and swiftly came upon his scent. At the view the huntsman windedon his horn, and the whole pack were at his heels. They followed himfrom morn to eve, till he was torn and bleeding, and was all adreadlest they should pull him down. Now the King was very close to thequarry, and when Bisclavaret looked upon his master, he ran to him forpity and for grace. He took the stirrup within his paws, and fawnedupon the prince's foot. The King was very fearful at this sight, butpresently he called his courtiers to his aid.
"Lords," cried he, "hasten hither, and see this marvellous thing. Hereis a beast who has the sense of man. He abases himself before his foe,and cries for mercy, although he cannot speak. Beat off the hounds,and let no man do him harm. We will hunt no more to-day, but return toour own place, with the wonderful quarry we have taken."
The King turned him about, and rode to his hall, Bisclavaret followingat his side. Very near to his master the Were-Wolf went, like any dog,and had no care to seek again the wood. When the King had brought himsafely to his own castle, he rejoiced greatly, for the beast was fairand strong, no mightier had any man seen. Much pride had the King inhis marvellous beast. He held him so dear, that he bade all those whowished for his love, to cross the Wolf in naught, neither to strikehim with a rod, but ever to see that he was richly fed and kennelledwarm. This commandment the Court observed willingly. So all the daythe Wolf sported with the lords, and at night he lay within thechamber of the King. There was not a man who did not make much of thebeast, so frank was he and debonair. None had reason to do him wrong,for ever was he about his master, and for his part did evil to none.Every day were these two companions together, and all perceived thatthe King loved him as his friend.
Hearken now to that which chanced.
The King held a high Court, and bade his great vassals and barons, andall the lords of his venery to the feast. Never was there a goodlierfeast, nor one set forth with sweeter show and pomp. Amongst those whowere bidden, came that same knight who had the wife of Bisclavaret fordame. He came to the castle, richly gowned, with a fair company, butlittle he deemed whom he would find so near. Bisclavaret marked hisfoe the moment he stood within the hall. He ran towards him, andseized him with his fangs, in the King's very presence, and to theview of all. Doubtless he would have done him much mischief, had notthe King called and chidden him, and threatened him with a rod. Once,and twice, again, the Wolf set upon the knight in the very light ofday. All men marvelled at his malice, for sweet and serviceable wasthe beast, and to that hour had shown hatred of none. With one consentthe household deemed that this deed was done with full reason, andthat the Wolf had suffered at the knight's hand some bitter wrong.Right wary of his foe was the knight until the feast had ended, andall the barons had taken farewell of their lord, and departed, each tohis own house. With these, amongst the very first, went that lord whomBisclavaret so fiercely had assailed. Small was the wonder that he wasglad to go.
No long while after this adventure it came to pass that the courteousKing would hunt in that forest where Bisclavaret was found. With theprince came his wolf, and a fair company. Now at nightfall the Kingabode within a certain lodge of that country, and this was known ofthat dame who before was the wife of Bisclavaret. In the morning thelady clothed her in her most dainty apparel, and hastened to thelodge, since she desired to speak with the King, and to offer him arich present. When the lady entered in the chamber, neither man norleash might restrain the fury of the Wolf. He became as a mad dog inhis hatred and malice. Breaking from his bonds he sprang at the lady'sface, and bit the nose from her visage. From every side men ran to thesuccour of the dame. They beat off the wolf from his prey, and for alittle would have cut him in pieces with their swords. But a certainwise counsellor said to the King,
"Sire, hearken now to me. This beast is always with you, and there isnot one of us all who has not known him for long. He goes in and outamongst us, nor has molested any man, neither done wrong or felony toany, save only to this dame, one only time as we have seen. He hasdone evil to this lady, and to that knight, who is now the husband ofthe dame. Sire, she was once the wife of that lord who was so closeand private to your heart, but who went, and none might find where hehad gone. Now, therefore, put the dame in a sure place, andquestion her straitly, so that she may tell--if perchance she knowsthereof--for what reason this Beast holds her in such mortal hate. Formany a strange deed has chanced, as well we know, in this marvellousland of Brittany."
The King listened to these words, and deemed the counsel good. He laidhands upon the knight, and put the dame in surety in another place. Hecaused them to be questioned right straitly, so that their torment wasvery grievous. At the end, partly because of her distress, and partlyby reason of her exceeding fear, the lady's lips were loosed, and shetold her tale. She showed them of the betrayal of her lord, and howhis raiment was stolen from the hollow stone. Since then she knew notwhere he went, nor what had befallen him, for he had never comeagain to his own land. Only, in her heart, well she deemed and waspersuaded, that Bisclavaret was he.
Straightway the King demanded the vesture of his baron, whether thiswere to the wish of the lady, or whether it were against her wish.When the raiment was brought him, he caused it to be spread beforeBisclavaret, but the Wolf made as though he had not seen. Then thatcunning and crafty counsellor took the King apart, that he might givehim a fresh rede.
"Sire," said he, "you do not wisely, nor well, to set this raimentbefore Bisclavaret, in the sight of all. In shame and much tribulationmust he lay aside the beast, and again become man. Carry your wolfwithin your most secret chamber, and put his vestment therein. Thenclose the door upon him, and leave him alone for a space. So we shallsee presently whether the ravening beast may indeed return to humanshape."
The King carried the Wolf to his chamber, and shut the doors uponhim fast. He delayed for a brief while, and taking two lords of hisfellowship with him, came again to the room. Entering therein, allthree, softly together, they found the knight sleeping in the King'sbed, like a little child. The King ran swiftly to the bed and takinghis friend in his arms, embraced and kissed him fondly, above ahundred times. When man's speech returned once more, he told him ofhis adventure. Then the King restored to his friend the fief that wasstolen from him, and gave such rich gifts, moreover, as I cannot tell.As for the wife who had betrayed Bisclavaret, he bade her avoid hiscountry, and chased her from the realm. So she went forth, she and hersecond lord together, to seek a more abiding city, and were no moreseen.
The adventure that you have heard is no vain fable. Verily and indeedit chanced as I have said. The Lay of the Were-Wolf, truly, waswritten that it should ever be borne in mind.
