Then speak they, say they, tell they the Tale:
"Ha!" quoth Nicolete, "be the soul of thy father and the soul of thy mother in the rest of Paradise, so fairly and so courteously hast thou spoken me! Please G.o.d, I will be right ware of them, G.o.d keep me out of their hands."
So she shrank under her mantle into the shadow of the pillar till they had pa.s.sed by, and then took she farewell of Auca.s.sin, and so fared till she came unto the castle wall. Now that wall was wasted and broken, and some deal mended, so she clomb thereon till she came between wall and fosse, and so looked down, and saw that the fosse was deep and steep, whereat she was sore adread.
"Ah G.o.d," saith she, "sweet Saviour! If I let myself fall hence, I shall break my neck, and if here I abide, to-morrow they will take me and burn me in a fire. Yet liefer would I perish here than that to-morrow the folk should stare on me for a gazing-stock."
Then she crossed herself, and so let herself slip into the fosse, and when she had come to the bottom, her fair feet, and fair hands that had not custom thereof, were bruised and frayed, and the blood springing from a dozen places, yet felt she no pain nor hurt, by reason of the great dread wherein she went. But if she were in c.u.mber to win there, in worse was she to win out. But she deemed that there to abide was of none avail, and she found a pike sharpened, that they of the city had thrown out to keep the hold. Therewith made she one stepping place after another, till, with much travail, she climbed the wall. Now the forest lay within two crossbow shots, and the forest was of thirty leagues this way and that. Therein also were wild beasts, and beasts serpentine, and she feared that if she entered there they would slay her. But anon she deemed that if men found her there they would hale her back into the town to burn her.
_Here one singeth_:
Nicolete, the fair of face, Climbed upon the coping stone, There made she lament and moan Calling on our Lord alone For his mercy and his grace.
"Father, king of Majesty, Listen, for I nothing know Where to flee or whither go.
If within the wood I fare, Lo, the wolves will slay me there, Boars and lions terrible, Many in the wild wood dwell, But if I abide the day, Surely worse will come of it, Surely will the fire be lit That shall burn my body away, Jesus, lord of Majesty, Better seemeth it to me, That within the wood I fare, Though the wolves devour me there Than within the town to go, Ne"er be it so!"
Then speak they, say they, tell they the Tale:
Nicolete made great moan, as ye have heard; then commended she herself to G.o.d, and anon fared till she came unto the forest. But to go deep in it she dared not, by reason of the wild beasts, and beasts serpentine. Anon crept she into a little thicket, where sleep came upon her, and she slept till prime next day, when the shepherds issued forth from the town and drove their b.e.s.t.i.a.l between wood and water. Anon came they all into one place by a fair fountain which was on the fringe of the forest, thereby spread they a mantle, and thereon set bread. So while they were eating, Nicolete wakened, with the sound of the singing birds, and the shepherds, and she went unto them, saying, "Fair boys, our Lord keep you!"
"G.o.d bless thee," quoth he that had more words to his tongue than the rest.
"Fair boys," quoth she, "know ye Auca.s.sin, the son of Count Garin de Biaucaire?"
"Yea, well we know him."
"So may G.o.d help you, fair boys," quoth she, "tell him there is a beast in this forest, and bid him come chase it, and if he can take it, he would not give one limb thereof for a hundred marks of gold, nay, nor for five hundred, nor for any ransom."
Then looked they on her, and saw her so fair that they were all astonied.
"Will I tell him thereof?" quoth he that had more words to his tongue than the rest; "foul fall him who speaks of the thing or tells him the tidings. These are but visions ye tell of, for there is no beast so great in this forest, stag, nor lion, nor boar, that one of his limbs is worth more than two deniers, or three at the most, and ye speak of such great ransom. Foul fall him that believes your word, and him that telleth Auca.s.sin. Ye be a Fairy, and we have none liking for your company, nay, hold on your road."
"Nay, fair boys," quoth she, "nay, ye will do my bidding. For this beast is so mighty of medicine that thereby will Auca.s.sin be healed of his torment. And lo! I have five sols in my purse, take them, and tell him: for within three days must he come hunting it hither, and if within three days he find it not, never will he be healed of his torment."
"My faith," quoth he, "the money will we take, and if he come hither we will tell him, but seek him we will not."
"In G.o.d"s name," quoth she; and so took farewell of the shepherds, and went her way.
_Here singeth one_:
Nicolete the bright of brow From the shepherds doth she pa.s.s All below the blossomed bough Where an ancient way there was, Overgrown and choked with gra.s.s, Till she found the cross-roads where Seven paths do all way fare, Then she deemeth she will try, Should her lover pa.s.s thereby, If he love her loyally.
So she gathered white lilies, Oak-leaf, that in green wood is, Leaves of many a branch I wis, Therewith built a lodge of green, Goodlier was never seen, Swore by G.o.d who may not lie, "If my love the lodge should spy, He will rest awhile thereby If he love me loyally."
Thus his faith she deemed to try, "Or I love him not, not I, Nor he loves me!"
Then speak they, say they, tell they the Tale:
Nicolete built her lodge of boughs, as ye have heard, right fair and feteously, and wove it well, within and without, of flowers and leaves.
So lay she hard by the lodge in a deep coppice to know what Auca.s.sin will do. And the cry and the bruit went abroad through all the country and all the land, that Nicolete was lost. Some told that she had fled, and some that the Count Garin had let slay her. Whosoever had joy thereof, no joy had Auca.s.sin. And the Count Garin, his father, had taken him out of prison, and had sent for the knights of that land, and the ladies, and let make a right great feast, for the comforting of Auca.s.sin his son. Now at the high time of the feast, was Auca.s.sin leaning from a gallery, all woful and discomforted. Whatsoever men might devise of mirth, Auca.s.sin had no joy thereof, nor no desire, for he saw not her that he loved. Then a knight looked on him, and came to him, and said:
"Auca.s.sin, of that sickness of thine have I been sick, and good counsel will I give thee, if thou wilt hearken to me--"
"Sir," said Auca.s.sin, "gramercy, good counsel would I fain hear."
"Mount thy horse," quoth he, "and go take thy pastime in yonder forest, there wilt thou see the good flowers and gra.s.s, and hear the sweet birds sing. Perchance thou shalt hear some word, whereby thou shalt be the better."
"Sir," quoth Auca.s.sin, "gramercy, that will I do."
He pa.s.sed out of the hall, and went down the stairs, and came to the stable where his horse was. He let saddle and bridle him, and mounted, and rode forth from the castle, and wandered till he came to the forest, so rode till he came to the fountain and found the shepherds at point of noon. And they had a mantle stretched on the gra.s.s, and were eating bread, and making great joy.
_Here one singeth_:
There were gathered shepherds all, Martin, Esmeric, and Hal, Aubrey, Robin, great and small.
Saith the one, "Good fellows all, G.o.d keep Auca.s.sin the fair, And the maid with yellow hair, Bright of brow and eyes of vair.
She that gave us gold to ware.
Cakes therewith to buy ye know, Goodly knives and sheaths also.
Flutes to play, and pipes to blow, May G.o.d him heal!"
Here speak they, say they, tell they the Tale:
When Auca.s.sin heard the shepherds, anon he bethought him of Nicolete, his sweet lady he loved so well, and he deemed that she had pa.s.sed thereby; then set he spurs to his horse, and so came to the shepherds.
"Fair boys, G.o.d be with you."
"G.o.d bless you," quoth he that had more words to his tongue than the rest.
"Fair boys," quoth Auca.s.sin, "say the song again that anon ye sang."
"Say it we will not," quoth he that had more words to his tongue than the rest, "foul fall him who will sing it again for you, fair sir!"
"Fair boys," quoth Auca.s.sin, "know ye me not?"
"Yea, we know well that you are Auca.s.sin, out damoiseau, natheless we be not your men, but the Count"s."
"Fair boys, yet sing it again, I pray you."
"Hearken! by the Holy Heart," quoth he, "wherefore should I sing for you, if it likes me not? Lo, there is no such rich man in this country, saving the body of Garin the Count, that dare drive forth my oxen, or my cows, or my sheep, if he finds them in his fields, or his corn, lest he lose his eyes for it, and wherefore should I sing for you, if it likes me not?"
"G.o.d be your aid, fair boys, sing it ye will, and take ye these ten sols I have here in a purse."
"Sir, the money will we take, but never a note will I sing, for I have given my oath, but I will tell thee a plain tale, if thou wilt."
"By G.o.d," saith Auca.s.sin, "I love a plain tale better than naught."
"Sir, we were in this place, a little time agone, between prime and tierce, and were eating our bread by this fountain, even as now we do, and a maid came past, the fairest thing in the world, whereby we deemed that she should be a fay, and all the wood shone round about her. Anon she gave us of that she had, whereby we made covenant with her, that if ye came hither we would bid you hunt in this forest, wherein is such a beast that, an ye might take him, ye would not give one limb of him for five hundred marks of silver, nor for no ransom; for this beast is so mighty of medicine, that, an ye could take him, ye should be healed of your torment, and within three days must ye take him, and if ye take him not then, never will ye look on him. So chase ye the beast, an ye will, or an ye will let be, for my promise have I kept with her."
"Fair boys," quoth Auca.s.sin, "ye have said enough. G.o.d grant me to find this quarry."
_Here one singeth_: