The Geste of Duke Jocelyn

ILLUSTRATIONS "Nobles of Brocelaunde, salute your Duchess Yolande" They saw afar the town of Canalise "Brave soldier, I do thank thee well!" she sighed "Hush, poor Motley!" whispered the maid. With mighty bound, bold Robin leaping came The long blades whirled and flashed PRELUDE My daughter GILLIAN interposeth: GILL: An ugly hero? MYSELF: That is so. GILL: An ugly hero, father? O, absurd! Whoever of an "ugly" hero heard? MYSELF: I'll own, indeed, I've come across but few-- GILL: But a duke--and ugly! Father, this from you? MYSELF: My duke is ugly, very, for good reason, As shall appear in due and proper season! GILL: I'm sure no one will want to read him then, For "heroes" all should be most handsome men. So make him handsome, please, or he won't do. MYSELF: By heaven, girl--no, plain heroes are too few! GILL: Then ev'ry one will leave him on the shelf! MYSELF: Why, then, I'll read the poor fellow myself. GILL: I won't! MYSELF: Then don't! Though, I might say, since you're set on it, child, My duke was not so ugly when he smiled-- GILL: Then make him smile as often as you can. MYSELF: I might do that, 't is none so bad a plan. GILL: And the lady--she must be a lady fair. MYSELF: My dear, she's beautiful beyond compare. GILL: Why, then-- MYSELF: My pen! FYTTE I My daughter GILLIAN interrupteth: My daughter GILLIAN interposeth: "Par Dex, my lord!" growled Sir Pertinax. "A malison on't, says I, saving thy lordly grace, yet a rogue is a rogue and, being rogue, should die right roguishly as is the custom and the law. For if, messire, if--per De and by Our Sweet Lady of Shene Chapel within the Wood, if, I say, in thy new and sudden-put-on attitude o' folly, thou wilt save alive all rogues soever, then by Saint Cuthbert his curse, by sweet Saint Benedict his blessed bones, by--" "Hold now, Pertinax," said the Duke, slipping his lute into leathern bag and slinging it behind wide shoulders, "list ye, Sir Knight of Shene, and mark this, to wit: If a rogue in roguery die then rogue is he forsooth; but, mark this again, if a rogue be spared his life he may perchance and peradventure forswear, that is, eschew or, vulgarly speaking, turn from his roguish ways, and die as honest as I, aye, or even--thou!" Here Sir Pertinax snorted as they strode on together, yet in a little they turned aside from the hot and dusty road and journeyed on beneath the trees that grew thereby. "By all the fiends, my lord, and speaking vulgarly in turn, this belly o' mine lacketh, these my bowels do yearn consumedly unto messes savoury and cates succulent--" Whereat the Duke, smiling merry-eyed, chanted roguishly: "Stay! nay, my lord, ha' mercy!" groaned Sir Pertinax, wiping moist brow. "Picture no more toothsome dainties to my soul lest for desire I swoon and languish by the way. I pray thee, let us haste, sire, so may we reach fair Canalise ere sunset--yet stay! Hearken, messire, hear ye aught? Sure, afar the tocsin soundeth?" "Right puissant and potential sir, we do beseech thee check thy ferocity, quell now thy so great anger and swear not to give our flesh for fowls to tear, so shalt thou come down to earth and stand again upon thine own two legs. And thou, most reverend friar, invoke now thy bloody-minded comrade that he swear to harm us not!" The stout friar seated himself hard by beneath a tree, mopped moist brow, fetched his wind and smiled. "Sir Fool," said he, "I am thy security that thou and thy brawny gossip need quake and tremble nothing by reason of this Bax, our valiant reeve--he shall harm ye no whit." Here, meeting Jocelyn's eye, Sir Pertinax set down the small Reeve, who having taken up and put on his great bascinet, scowled, whereupon Duke Jocelyn questioned him full meek: "Good master Reeve, of your courtesy pray you tell us why yon bells do ring so wild alarm." "Fair Fool," quoth the Friar, fanning himself with a frond of bracken, "'tis a hot day, a day reminiscent of the ultimate fate of graceless sinners, and I am like the day and languish for breath, yet, to thy so pertinent question I will, straightly and in few words, pronounce and answer thee, as followeth: Our Lady Benedicta hath run away firstly, brethren, for that being formed woman after Nature's goodly plan she hath the wherewithal to walk, to leap, to skip or eke to run, as viz.: item and to wit--legs. Secondly, inquisitorial brethren, she ran for an excellent good reason--as observe--there was none to let or stay her. And thirdly, gentle and eager hearers, she did flit or fly, leave, vacate, or depart our goodly town of Tissingors for that she had--mark me--no mind to stay, remain or abide therein. And this for the following express, rare and most curious reason as--mark now--in a word--" "Hold--hold, Friar John!" exclaimed the Reeve; "here sit ye here a-sermonising, venting words a-many what time our vanished Duchess fleeth. Knew I not the contrary I should say thou didst countenance her flight and spent thyself in wordy-wind wherewith to aid her!" Now here, chancing to meet Duke Jocelyn's shrewd gaze, Friar John slowly and ponderously winked one round, bright eye. Quoth he: "Animadverting!" nodded Friar John. "A good word, Reeve, a fair, sweet word; in verity a word full-bodied as I, wherefore it liketh me well. So sit I here animadverting whiles thou kicketh up a dust in fashion foolish and un-reeve-like." "A plague o' words!" cried the Reeve. "A pest o' wind! Enough--enough, contain thy prolixities and rodomontade and let me to the point explain--" "Aha!" quoth the Friar. "Good sooth, here's a noble word! A word round i' the mouth, rolling upon the tongue. Ha, Reeve, I give thee joy of rodomontade!" "Thus then," continued the Reeve, "I will, with use of no verbiage circumlocutory, explain." "Ho-oho!" cried Friar John, rubbing plump hands ecstatic. "Good Bax, ne'er have I heard thee to so great advantage--verbiage circumlocutory--and thou--thou such small man to boot! O most excellent, puny Reeve!" Here the little man turned his back upon the Friar and continued hastily thus: "Why then," fumed the Reeve, "here have we been at great expense o' breath and time and all to no purpose. Come, Friar, beseech thee, let us haste to begone." Now stood Sir Pertinax thoughtful, chin on fist, insomuch that Jocelyn, thrumming his lute, questioned him: Saith Pertinax: "I meditate the way wondrous of woman, the frowardness of creatures feminine. For mark me, sir, here is one hath guardians ten, yet despite them she is fled away and they ten!" "Why truly, Pertinax, they are ten, so is she fled." "Aye, but if they be ten that ward her and she one that would flee, how shall this one flee these ten?" "For that they be ten." "Nay, lord, here be twenty eyes to watch one young maid and twenty legs to pursue the same, yet doth she evade them one and all, and here's the wonder on't--she's but one maid." "Nay, there's the reason on't, Pertinax--she is a maid." "The which is great matter for wonder, lord!" "Spoke like a very Pertinax, my Pertinax, for here's no wonder at all. For perceive, the lady is young, her wardens ten grave seniors, worthy wights --solemn, sober and sedate, Pertinax, wise and wearisome, grave yet garrulous, and therefore they suffice not." "Aye, prithee and wherefore not?" "For their divers worthy attributes and because they be--ten. Now had these ten been one and this one a very man--the man--here had been no running away on part of the lady, I 'll warrant me?" "Stay, my lord," said Pertinax, in deep perplexity, "how judge ye so--and wherefore--why and by what manner o' reasoning?" "Ha, Pertinax!" laughed the Duke, "my lovely, loveless numskull!" So saying, he kicked the good Knight full joyously and so they trudged on again. Now it was market day, and within the goodly square were people come from near and far, a notable concourse, country folk and folk of the town, farmers and merchants, rustic maids, fair ladies, knights and esquires on horseback or a-foot, but who, hearing the jingle of the Duke's tinkling bells, seeing his flaunting c**k's-comb, with one accord gathered to him from every quarter: Now when the song was ended some there were who laughed and some looked grave, some talked amain and some wagged solemn heads, while many a good coin rang heartily at Duke Jocelyn's feet; smiling, he bade Sir Pertinax take them up, joying to see the proud Knight stooping thus to pouch the money like any beggar. But now, when he would fain have gone his way into the town, the people would by no means suffer it and clamoured amain on all sides, insistent for more; wherefore, lifting his scarred face to the sunset sky, Duke Jocelyn sang as here followeth: "Ha, lord!" quoth Sir Pertinax, as they came within a quiet thoroughfare, "this lady is grown more fair since last we saw her Queen of Beauty at Melloc joust, concerning whom Fame, in troth, doth breed a just report for once. But, messire, didst mark him beside her--with touch o' hand, lord, whispers i' the ear--didst mark this wolf, this Seneschal, this thrice accurst Sir Gui?" "Aye, forsooth," answered the Duke, "but thou'rt an hungered, methinks?" "To touch her hand, lord--aha! To whisper in her ear, lord--oho! A right puissant lord, Seneschal of Raddemore, Lord of Thorn and Knight of Ells! A lord of puissance and power potential." "And thou, my Pertinax, art but a hungry Knight, that trampeth with a hungry Fool, wherefore let us forthwith--" "Aye, but mark me, lord, if this puissant lord with pomp and high estate doth woo the lady--" "So then, my Pertinax, will I woo this lady also." "How, in this thy foolish guise?" "Aye, forsooth." "Why, then, thou art like to be whipped for froward Fool and I for ragged rogue, and this our adventure brought to ill and woeful end--so here now is folly, lord, indeed!" "Aye, forsooth!" smiled the Duke,