Aucassin and Nicolete Part 4

Auca.s.sin when he had heard, Sore within his heart was stirred, Left the shepherds on that word, Far into the forest spurred Rode into the wood; and fleet Fled his horse through paths of it, Three words spake he of his sweet, "Nicolete the fair, the dear, 'Tis for thee I follow here Track of boar, nor slot of deer, But thy sweet body and eyes so clear, All thy mirth and merry cheer, That my very heart have slain, So please G.o.d to me maintain I shall see my love again, Sweet sister, friend!"

Then speak they, say they, tell they the Tale:

Auca.s.sin fared through the forest from path to path after Nicolete, and his horse bare him furiously. Think ye not that the thorns him spared, nor the briars, nay, not so, but tare his raiment, that scarce a knot might be tied with the soundest part thereof, and the blood sprang from his arms, and flanks, and legs, in forty places, or thirty, so that behind the Childe men might follow on the track of his blood in the gra.s.s. But so much he went in thoughts of Nicolete, his lady sweet, that he felt no pain nor torment, and all the day hurled through the forest in this fas.h.i.+on nor heard no word of her. And when he saw Vespers draw nigh, he began to weep for that he found her not. All down an old road, and gra.s.sgrown he fared, when anon, looking along the way before him, he saw such an one as I shall tell you. Tall was he, and great of growth, laidly and marvellous to look upon: his head huge, and black as charcoal, and more than the breadth of a hand between his two eyes, and great cheeks, and a big nose and broad, big nostrils and ugly, and thick lips redder than a collop, and great teeth yellow and ugly, and he was shod with hosen and shoon of bull's hide, bound with cords of bark over the knee, and all about him a great cloak twy-fold, and he leaned on a grievous cudgel, and Auca.s.sin came unto him, and was afraid when he beheld him.

"Fair brother, G.o.d aid thee."

"G.o.d bless you," quoth he.

"As G.o.d he helpeth thee, what makest thou here?"

"What is that to thee?"

"Nay, naught, naught," saith Auca.s.sin, "I ask but out of courtesy."

"But for whom weepest thou," quoth he, "and makest such heavy lament?

Certes, were I as rich a man as thou, the whole world should not make me weep."

"Ha! know ye me?" saith Auca.s.sin.

"Yea, I know well that ye be Auca.s.sin, the son of the Count, and if ye tell me for why ye weep, then will I tell you what I make here."

"Certes," quoth Auca.s.sin, "I will tell you right gladly. Hither came I this morning to hunt in this forest; and with me a white hound, the fairest in the world; him have I lost, and for him I weep."

"By the Heart our Lord bare in his breast," quoth he, "are ye weeping for a stinking hound? Foul fall him that holds thee high henceforth! for there is no such rich man in the land, but if thy father asked it of him, he would give thee ten, or fifteen, or twenty, and be the gladder for it.

But I have cause to weep and make dole."

"Wherefore so, brother?"

"Sir, I will tell thee. I was hireling to a rich vilain, and drove his plough; four oxen had he. But three days since came on me great misadventure, whereby I lost the best of mine oxen, Roger, the best of my team. Him go I seeking, and have neither eaten nor drunken these three days, nor may I go to the town, lest they cast me into prison, seeing that I have not wherewithal to pay. Out of all the wealth of the world have I no more than ye see on my body. A poor mother bare me, that had no more but one wretched bed; this have they taken from under her, and she lies in the very straw. This ails me more than mine own case, for wealth comes and goes; if now I have lost, another tide will I gain, and will pay for mine ox whenas I may; never for that will I weep. But you weep for a stinking hound. Foul fall whoso thinks well of thee!"

"Certes thou art a good comforter, brother, blessed be thou! And of what price was thine ox?"

"Sir, they ask me twenty sols for him, whereof I cannot abate one doit."

"Nay, then," quoth Auca.s.sin, "take these twenty sols I have in my purse, and pay for thine ox."

"Sir," saith he, "gramercy. And G.o.d give thee to find that thou seekest."

So they parted each from other, and Auca.s.sin rode on: the night was fair and still, and so long he went that he came to the lodge of boughs, that Nicolete had builded and woven within and without, over and under, with flowers, and it was the fairest lodge that might be seen. When Auca.s.sin was ware of it, he stopped suddenly, and the light of the moon fell therein.

"G.o.d!" quoth Auca.s.sin, "here was Nicolete, my sweet lady, and this lodge builded she with her fair hands. For the sweetness of it, and for love of her, will I alight, and rest here this night long."

He drew forth his foot from the stirrup to alight, and the steed was great and tall. He dreamed so much on Nicolete his right sweet lady, that he slipped on a stone, and drave his shoulder out of his place. Then knew he that he was hurt sore, natheless he bore him with what force he might, and fastened with the other hand the mare's son to a thorn. Then turned he on his side, and crept backwise into the lodge of boughs. And he looked through a gap in the lodge and saw the stars in heaven, and one that was brighter than the rest; so began he to say:

_Here one singeth_:

"Star, that I from far behold, Star, the Moon calls to her fold, Nicolete with thee doth dwell, My sweet love with locks of gold, G.o.d would have her dwell afar, Dwell with him for evening star, Would to G.o.d, whate'er befell, Would that with her I might dwell.

I would clip her close and strait, Nay, were I of much estate, Some king's son desirable, Worthy she to be my mate, Me to kiss and clip me well, Sister, sweet friend!"

So speak they, say they, tell they the Tale:

When Nicolete heard Auca.s.sin, right so came she unto him, for she was not far away. She pa.s.sed within the lodge, and threw her arms about his neck, and clipped and kissed him.

"Fair sweet friend, welcome be thou."

"And thou, fair sweet love, be thou welcome."

So either kissed and clipped the other, and fair joy was them between.

"Ha! sweet love," quoth Auca.s.sin, "but now was I sore hurt, and my shoulder wried, but I take no force of it, nor have no hurt therefrom since I have thee."

Right so felt she his shoulder and found it was wried from its place. And she so handled it with her white hands, and so wrought in her surgery, that by G.o.d's will who loveth lovers, it went back into its place. Then took she flowers, and fresh gra.s.s, and leaves green, and bound these herbs on the hurt with a strip of her smock, and he was all healed.

"Auca.s.sin," saith she, "fair sweet love, take counsel what thou wilt do.

If thy father let search this forest to-morrow, and men find me here, they will slay me, come to thee what will."

"Certes, fair sweet love, therefore should I sorrow heavily, but, an if I may, never shall they take thee."

Anon gat he on his horse, and his lady before him, kissing and clipping her, and so rode they at adventure.

_Here one singeth_:

Auca.s.sin the frank, the fair, Auca.s.sin of the yellow hair, Gentle knight, and true lover, From the forest doth he fare, Holds his love before him there, Kissing cheek, and chin, and eyes, But she spake in sober wise, "Auca.s.sin, true love and fair, To what land do we repair?"

Sweet my love, I take no care, Thou art with me everywhere!

So they pa.s.s the woods and downs, Pa.s.s the villages and towns, Hills and dales and open land, Came at dawn to the sea sand, Lighted down upon the strand, Beside the sea.

Then say they, speak they, tell they the Tale:

Auca.s.sin lighted down and his love, as ye have heard sing. He held his horse by the bridle, and his lady by the hands; so went they along the sea sh.o.r.e, and on the sea they saw a s.h.i.+p, and he called unto the sailors, and they came to him. Then held he such speech with them, that he and his lady were brought aboard that s.h.i.+p, and when they were on the high sea, behold a mighty wind and tyrannous arose, marvellous and great, and drave them from land to land, till they came unto a strange country, and won the haven of the castle of Torelore. Then asked they what this land might be, and men told them that it was the country of the King of Torelore. Then he asked what manner of man was he, and was there war afoot, and men said,

"Yea, and mighty!"

Therewith took he farewell of the merchants, and they commended him to G.o.d. Anon Auca.s.sin mounted his horse, with his sword girt, and his lady before him, and rode at adventure till he was come to the castle. Then asked he where the King was, and they said that he was in childbed.

"Then where is his wife?"

And they told him she was with the host, and had led with her all the force of that country.

Now when Auca.s.sin heard that saying, he made great marvel, and came into the castle, and lighted down, he and his lady, and his lady held his horse. Right so went he up into the castle, with his sword girt, and fared hither and thither till he came to the chamber where the King was lying.

_Here one singeth_:

Auca.s.sin the courteous knight To the chamber went forthright, To the bed with linen dight Even where the King was laid.

There he stood by him and said: "Fool, what mak'st thou here abed?"

Quoth the King: "I am brought to bed Of a fair son, and anon When my month is over and gone, And my healing fairly done, To the Minster will I fare And will do my churching there, As my father did repair.

Then will sally forth to war, Then will drive my foes afar From my countrie!"