XII
THE LAY OF MILON
He who would tell divers tales must know how to vary the tune. Towin the favour of any, he must speak to the understanding of all. Ipurpose in this place to show you the story of Milon, and--since fewwords are best--I will set out the adventure as briefly as I may.
Milon was born in South Wales. So great was his prowess that from theday he was dubbed knight there was no champion who could stand beforehim in the lists. He was a passing fair knight, open and brave,courteous to his friends, and stern to his foes. Men praised his namein whatever realm they talked of gallant deeds--Ireland, Norway, andWales, yea, from Jutland even to Albania. Since he was praised by thefrank, he was therefore envied of the mean. Nevertheless, by reason ofhis skill with the spear, he was counted a very worshipful knight, andwas honourably entreated by many a prince in divers lands.
In Milon's own realm there lived a lord whose name has gone frommind. With this baron dwelt his daughter, a passing fair and graciousdamsel. Much talk had this maiden heard of Milon's knightly deeds, sothat she began to set her thoughts upon him, because of the good menspoke of him. She sent him a message by a sure hand, saying that ifher love was to his mind, sweetly would it be to her heart. Milonrejoiced greatly when he knew this thing. He thanked the lady for herwords, giving her love again in return for her own, and swearing thathe would never depart therefrom any day of his days. Beyond thiscourteous answer Milon bestowed on the messenger costly gifts, andmade him promises that were richer still.
"Friend," said he, "of your charity I pray you that I may have speechwith my friend, in such a fashion that none shall know of our meeting.Carry her this, my golden ring. Tell her, on my part, that so shepleases she shall come to me, or, if it be her better pleasure, I willgo to her."
The messenger bade farewell, and returned to his lady. He placed thering in her hand, saying that he had done her will, as he was biddento do.
Right joyous was the damsel to know that Milon's love was tender asher own. She required her friend to come for speech within the privategarden of her house, where she was wont to take her delight. Miloncame at her commandment. He came so often, and so dearly she lovedhim, that in the end she gave him all that maid may give. When thedamsel perceived how it was with her, she sent messages to her friend,telling him of her case, and making great sorrow.
"I have lost my father and all his wealth," said the lady, "for whenhe hears of this matter he will make of me an example. Either I shallbe tormented with the sword, or else he will sell me as a slave in afar country."
(For such was the usage of our fathers in the days of this tale).
Milon grieved sorely, and made answer that he would do the thing thedamsel thought most seemly to be done.
"When the child is born," replied the lady, "you must carry himforthwith to my sister. She is a rich dame, pitiful and good, and iswedded to a lord of Northumberland. You will send messages with thebabe--both in writing and by speech--that the little innocent is hersister's child. Whether it be a boy or girl his mother will havesuffered much because of him, and for her sister's sake you will prayher to cherish the babe. Beyond this I shall set your signet by a laceabout his neck, and write letters wherein shall be made plain the nameof his sire, and the sad story of his mother. When he shall have growntall, and of an age to understand these matters, his aunt will givehim your ring, and rehearse to him the letter. If this be done,perchance the orphan will not be fatherless all his days."
Milon approved the counsel of the lady, and when her time had come shewas brought to bed of a boy. The old nurse who tended her mistresswas privy to the damsel's inmost mind. So warily she went to work, socunning was she in gloss and concealment, that none within the palaceknew that there was aught to hide. The damsel looked upon her boy, andsaw that he was very fair. She laced the ring about his neck, and setthe letter that it were death to find, within a silken chatelaine. Thechild was then placed in his cradle, swathed close in white linen. Apillow of feathers was put beneath his head, and over all was laid awarm coverlet, wadded with fur. In this fashion the ancient nursegave the babe to his father, who awaited him within the garden. Miloncommended the child to his men, charging them to carry him loyally, bysuch towns as they knew, to that lady beyond the Humber. The servitorsset forth, bearing the infant with them. Seven times a day theyreposed them in their journey, so that the women might nourishthe babe, and bathe and tend him duly. They served their lord sofaithfully, keeping such watch upon the way, that at the last theywon to the lady to whom they were bidden. The lady received themcourteously, as became her breeding. She broke the seal of the letter,and when she was assured of what was therein, marvellously shecherished the infant. These having bestowed the boy in accordance withtheir lord's commandment, returned to their own land.
Milon went forth from his realm to serve beyond the seas for guerdon.His friend remained within her house and was granted by her father inmarriage to a right rich baron of that country. Though this baron wasa worthy knight, justly esteemed of all his fellows, the damsel wasgrieved beyond measure when she knew her father's will. She called tomind the past, and regretted that Milon had gone from the country,since he would have helped her in her need.
"Alas!" said the lady, "what shall I do? I doubt that I am lost, formy lord will find that his bride is not a maid. If this becomes knownthey will make me a bondwoman for all my days. Would that my friendwere here to free me from this coil. It were good for me to die ratherthan to live, but by no means can I escape from their hands. Theyhave set warders about me, men, old and young, whom they call mychamberlains, contemners of love, who delight themselves in sadness.But endure it I must, for, alas, I know not how to die."
So on the appointed day the lady was wedded to the baron, and herhusband took her to dwell with him in his fief.
When Milon returned to his own country he was right heavy andsorrowful to learn of this marriage. He lamented his wretched case,but in this he found comfort, that he was not far from the realm wherethe lady abode whom so tenderly he loved. Milon commenced to thinkwithin himself how best he might send letters to the damsel that hewas come again to his home, yet so that none should have knowledgethereof. He wrote a letter, and sealed it with his seal. This messagehe made fast to the neck, and hid within the plumage of a swan thatwas long his, and was greatly to his heart. He bade his squire tocome, and made him his messenger.
"Change thy raiment swiftly," said he, "and hasten to the castle of myfriend. Take with thee my swan, and see that none, neither servant norhandmaid, delivers the bird to my lady, save thyself alone."
The squire did according to his lord's commandment. He made him readyquickly, and went forth, bearing the swan with him. He went by thenearest road, and passing through the streets of the city, came beforethe portal of the castle. In answer to his summons the porter drewnear.
"Friend," said he, "hearken to me. I am of Caerleon, and a fowler bycraft. Within my nets I have snared the most marvellous swan in theworld. This wondrous bird I would bestow forthwith upon your lady, butperforce I must offer her the gift with my own hand."
"Friend," replied the porter, "fowlers are not always welcomed ofladies. If you come with me I will bring you where I may know whetherit pleases my lady to have speech with you and to receive your gift."
The porter entered in the hall, where he found none but two lordsseated at a great table, playing chess for their delight. He swiftlyreturned on his steps, and the fowler with him, so furtively withalthat the lords were not disturbed at their game, nor perceived aughtof the matter. They went therefore to the chamber of the lady. Inanswer to their call the door was opened to them by a maiden, wholed them before her dame. When the swan was proffered to the ladyit pleased her to receive the gift. She summoned a varlet of herhousehold and gave the bird to his charge, commanding him to keep itsafely, and to see that it ate enough and to spare.
"Lady," said the servitor, "I will do your bidding. We shall neverreceive from any fowler on earth such another bird as this. The swanis fit to serve at a royal table, for the bird is plump as he isfair."
The varlet put the swan in his lady's hands. She took the bird kindly,and smoothing his head and neck, felt the letter that was hiddenbeneath its feathers. The blood pricked in her veins, for well sheknew that the writing was sent her by her friend. She caused thefowler to be given of her bounty, and bade the men to go forth fromher chamber. When they had parted the lady called a maiden to her aid.She broke the seal, and unfastening the letter, came upon the name ofMilon at the head. She kissed the name a hundred times through hertears. When she might read the writing she learned of the great painand dolour that her lover suffered by day and by night. In you--hewrote--is all my pleasure, and in your white hands it lies to heal meor to slay. Strive to find a plan by which we may speak as friend tofriend, if you would have me live. The knight prayed her in his letterto send him an answer by means of the swan. If the bird were wellguarded, and kept without provand for three days, he would of a suretyfly back to the place from whence he came, with any message that thelady might lace about his neck.
When the damsel had considered the writing, and understood what wasput therein, she commanded that her bird should be tended carefully,and given plenteously to eat and to drink. She held him for a monthwithin her chamber, but this was less from choice, than for the craftthat was necessary to obtain the ink and parchment requisite for herwriting. At the end she wrote a letter according to her heart, andsealed it with her ring. The lady caused the swan to fast for threefull days; then having concealed the message about his neck, let himtake his flight. The bird was all anhungered for food, and rememberingwell the home from which he drew, he returned thither as quickly ashis wings might bear him.
He knew again his town, and his master's house, and descended to theground at Milon's very feet. Milon rejoiced greatly when he marked hisown. He caught the bird by his wings, and crying for his steward, badehim give the swan to eat. The knight removed the missive from themessenger's neck. He glanced from head to head of the letter, seekingthe means that he hoped to find, and the salutation he so tenderlywished. Sweet to his heart was the writing, for the lady wrote thatwithout him there was no joy in her life, and since it was his desireto hear by the swan, it would be her pleasure also.
For twenty years the swan was made the messenger of these two lovers,who might never win together. There was no speech between them, savethat carried by the bird. They caused the swan to fast for three days,and then sent him on his errand. He to whom the letter came, saw toit that the messenger was fed to heart's desire. Many a time the swanwent upon his journey, for however strictly the lady was held of herhusband, there was none who had suspicion of a bird.
The dame beyond the Humber nourished and tended the boy committed toher charge with the greatest care. When he was come to a fitting ageshe made him to be knighted of her lord, for goodly and serviceablewas the lad. On the same day the aunt read over to him the letter, andput in his hand the ring. She told him the name of his mother, and hisfather's story. In all the world there was no worthier knight, nor amore chivalrous and gallant gentleman. The lad hearkened diligently tothe lady's tale. He rejoiced greatly to hear of his father's prowess,and was proud beyond measure of his renown. He considered withinhimself, saying to his own heart, that much should be required of hisfather's son, and that he would not be worthy of his blood if he didnot endeavour to merit his name. He determined therefore that he wouldleave his country, and seek adventure as a knight errant, beyond thesea. The varlet delayed no longer than the evening. On the morrow hebade farewell to his aunt, who having warned and admonished him forhis good, gave him largely of her wealth, to bring him on his way. Herode to Southampton, that he might find a ship equipped for sea, andso came to Barfleur. Without any tarrying the lad went straight toBrittany, where he spent his money and himself in feasts and intourneys. The rich men of the land were glad of his friendship, forthere was none who bore himself better in the press with spear or withsword. What he took from the rich he bestowed on such knights as werepoor and luckless. These loved him greatly, since he gained largelyand spent freely, granting of his wealth to all. Wherever this knightsojourned in the realm he bore away the prize. So debonair was he andchivalrous that his fame and praise crossed the water, and were noisedabroad in his own land. Folk told how a certain knight from beyond theHumber, who had passed the sea in quest of wealth and honour, had sodone, that by reason of his prowess, his liberality, and his modesty,men called him the Knight Peerless, since they did not know his name.
This praise of the good knight, and of his deeds, came to be heard ofMilon. Very dolent was he and sorely troubled that so young a knightshould be esteemed above his fathers. He marvelled greatly that thestout spears of the past had not put on their harness and broken alance for their ancient honour. One thing he determined, that hewould cross the sea without delay, so that he might joust with thedansellon, and abate his pride. In wrath and anger he purposed tofight, to beat his adversary from the saddle, and bring him at lastto shame. After this was ended he would seek his son, of whom he hadheard nothing, since he had gone from his aunt's castle. Milon causedhis friend to know of his wishes. He opened out to her all histhought, and craved her permission to depart. This letter he sent bythe swan, commending the bird to her care.
When the lady heard of her lover's purpose, she thanked him for hiscourtesy, for greatly was his counsel to her mind. She approved hisdesire to quit the realm for the sake of his honour, and far fromputting let and hindrance in his path, trusted that in the end hewould bring again her son. Since Milon was assured of his friend'sgoodwill, he arrayed himself richly, and crossing the sea to Normandy,came afterwards into the land of the Bretons. There he soughtthe friendship of the lords of that realm, and fared to all thetournaments of which he might hear. Milon bore himself proudly, andgave graciously of his wealth, as though he were receiving a gift.He sojourned till the winter was past in that land, he, and a bravecompany of knights whom he held in his house with him. When Easterhad come, and the season that men give to tourneys and wars and therighting of their private wrongs, Milon considered how he could meetwith the knight whom men called Peerless. At that time a tournamentwas proclaimed to be held at Mont St. Michel. Many a Norman and Bretonrode to the game; knights of Flanders and of France were there inplenty, but few fared from England. Milon drew to the lists amongstthe first. He inquired diligently of the young champion, and all menwere ready to tell from whence he came, and of his harness, and of theblazon on his shield. At length the knight appeared in the lists andMilon looked upon the adversary he so greatly desired to see. Now inthis tournament a knight could joust with that lord who was set overagainst him, or he could seek to break a lance with his chosen foe. Aplayer must gain or lose, and he might find himself opposed eitherby his comrade or his enemy. Milon did well and worshipfully in thepress, and was praised of many that day. But the Knight Peerlesscarried the cry from all his fellows, for none might stand before him,nor rival him in skill and address. Milon observed him curiously. Thelad struck so heavily, he thrust home so shrewdly, that Milon's hatredchanged to envy as he watched. Very comely showed the varlet, andmuch to Milon's mind. The older knight set himself over against thechampion, and they met together in the centre of the field. Milonstruck his adversary so fiercely, that the lance splintered in hisgauntlet; but the young knight kept his seat without even losing astirrup. In return his spear was aimed with such cunning that he borehis antagonist to the ground. Milon lay upon the earth bareheaded, forhis helmet was unlaced in the shock. His hair and beard showedwhite to all, and the varlet was heavy to look on him whom he hadoverthrown. He caught the destrier by the bridle, and led him beforethe stricken man.
"Sir," said he, "I pray you to get upon your horse. I am right grievedand vexed that I should have done this wrong. Believe me that it waswrought unwittingly."
Milon sprang upon his steed. He approved the courtesy of hisadversary, and looking upon the hand that held his bridle, he knewagain his ring. He made inquiry of the lad.
"Friend," said he, "hearken to me. Tell me now the name of thy sire.How art thou called; who is thy mother? I have seen much, and gone toand fro about the world. All my life I have journeyed from realm torealm, by reason of tourneys and quarrels and princes' wars, yet neveronce by any knight have I been borne from my horse. This day I amoverthrown by a boy, and yet I cannot help but love thee."
The varlet answered, "I know little of my father. I understand thathis name is Milon, and that he was a knight of Wales. He loved thedaughter of a rich man, and was loved again. My mother bore me insecret, and caused me to be carried to Northumberland, where I wastaught and tended. An old aunt was at the costs of my nourishing. Shekept me at her side, till of all her gifts she gave me horse and arms,and sent me here, where I have remained. In hope and wish I purpose tocross the sea, and return to my own realm. There I would seek out myfather, and learn how it stands between him and my mother. I will showhim my golden ring, and I will tell him of such privy matters that hemay not deny our kinship, but must love me as a son, and ever hold medear."
When Milon heard these words he could endure them no further. He gothim swiftly from his horse, and taking the lad by the fringe of hishauberk, he cried, "Praise be to God, for now am I healed. Fairfriend, by my faith thou art my very son, for whom I came forth frommy own land, and have sought through all this realm."
The varlet climbed from the saddle, and stood upon his feet. Fatherand son kissed each other tenderly, with many comfortable words. Theirlove was fair to see, and those who looked upon their meeting, weptfor joy and pity.
Milon and his son departed from the tournament so soon as it cameto an end, for the knight desired greatly to speak to the varlet atleisure, and to open before him all his mind. They rode to theirhostel, and with the knights of their fellowship, passed the hours inmirth and revelry. Milon spoke to the lad of his mother. He told himof their long love, and how she was given by her father in marriage toa baron of his realm. He rehearsed the years of separation, acceptedby both with a good heart, and of the messenger who carried lettersbetween them, when there was none they dared to trust in, save onlythe swan.
The son made answer,
"In faith, fair father, let us return to our own land. There I willslay this husband, and you shall yet be my mother's lord."
This being accorded between them, on the morrow they made them readyfor the journey, and bidding farewell to their friends, set forth forWales. They embarked in a propitious hour, for a fair wind carried theship right swiftly to its haven. They had not ridden far upon theirroad, when they met a certain squire of the lady's household on hisway to Brittany, bearing letters to Milon. His task was done longbefore sundown in chancing on the knight. He gave over the sealedwriting with which he was charged, praying the knight to hasten to hisfriend without any tarrying, since her husband was in his grave. Milonrejoiced greatly when he knew this thing. He showed the message to hisson, and pressed forward without pause or rest. They made such speed,that at the end they came to the castle where the lady had herlodging. Light of heart was she when she clasped again her child.These two fond lovers sought neither countenance of their kin, norcounsel of any man. Their son handselled them together, and gave themother to his sire. From the day they were wed they dwelt in wealthand in sweetness to the end of their lives.
Of their love and content the minstrel wrought this Lay. I, also, whohave set it down in writing, have won guerdon enough just by tellingover the tale.
