CHAPTER V. THE CASTLE OF THE LEPER.
The knight had rode for great part of the day beneath the rays of a most burning sun, and horse and rider both alike fatigued, when he beheld a young and handsome squire running towards him at his greatest speed. Rent was his garment even to his waist; and on he came, with madness in his looks, tearing by handfuls his fair curling hair.
Scarce did he make out Jaufry from afar when he exclaimed:
“Fly, fly, brave knight, fly quickly from this spot, an that thou choosest not to lose thy life!”
“And wherefore so, fair friend?” asked Dovon's son.
“Fly, for the love of God, say I; nor lose thou further time.”
“Art thou, then, shorn of sense,” exclaimed the knight, “such counsel to propose, when I behold no foe?”
“Ah!” cried the squire then, “he comes; he's there; nor think I in a year to cure the fright that he hath caused me! He hath slain my lord,—a knight of price, who was conducting to his castle-home his lady-wife, a Norman count's most noble daughter. This wretch hath seized the bride; and to myself has caused such dire fear, that ev'ry limb still trembles at the shock.”
“And is't because thou fearest,” asked Sir Jaufry, red with rage, “thou counsell'st flight to me? By holy faith, I hold thee fool, and worse.”
As he spoke thus, a leper came in sight, who sped along, a child within his arms. Its wretched mother, with dishevelled hair, followed with piercing cries. When she beheld the knight, she knelt down at his feet, and in a tone of agony exclaimed:
“Mercy, my lord; O, mercy! For the love of Heaven, grant me help, and get me back the child yon leper bears.”
“Woman,” responded Jaufry, “wherefore takes he it?”
“My lord, because it is his wicked will.”
“Had he no other cause?”
“No, by your glorious sire!”
“Since it is thus,” quoth Jaufry, “he is wrong; and I will try to win it back for you.”
He spurred at once his horse, she following; and cried aloud, with all the strength he had:
“Halt, leprous, wicked wretch! and bring thou back the child!”
The leper turned his head and raised his hand, making the mark of scorn; which so enraged the knight, he swore the insult deeply to avenge. The hideous leper answered with a laugh; for he had reached the threshold of his door. He darted in for refuge, followed full speed by Jaufry; who, dismounting from his horse, which with his lance he left to the poor dame, dashed through the castle-gate with sword in hand and shield upon his arm.
As he was traversing the castle through, which he found vast and sumptuous to the view, he came into a hall where a huge leper, frightful to behold, had cast upon a couch a damsel in first youth, whose beauty in that age could scarce be matched. Her cheek was fresher than an opening rose at break of day, and her torn vesture half-betrayed a bosom snowy white. Her eyes were bathed in tears; her words, despair, and sobs, moved Jaufry's soul: but when the leper rose and seized his club, such feelings changed to horror and surprise.
He was in height more tall than knightly lance, and at the shoulders was two fathoms broad: his arms and hands were huge, his fingers crookt and full of knots, his cheeks were spread with pustules and with scales; a broken pupil, eyes without lids but with vermilion edged, blue lips, and yellow teeth, made up the portrait of this monster dread. Fiercer than living coal he flew on Jaufry, bidding him straight to yield.
“No, certes,' the knight replied.
“Say, who in evil hour sent thee here?”
“No one.”
“And pray what seekest thou?”
“A child, that from its mother hath been torn by lep'rous hands, which must give up their prey.”
“Vain fool, 'tis I forbid,—I, by whose mace thy fate shall now be sealed; better for thee thou hadst not risen the morn, since thou shalt now for ever lay thee down.”
His club he raised in uttering these words, and on the shield of Jaufry then let fall so fierce a blow, the knight went reeling to the ground. Again that club was raised; but Jaufry rose and fled. Certes he had cause to flee the stroke he saw impending; for that huge mass of iron as it fell made the vast hall to tremble. Then Jaufry, with a bound, before the leper stood, and with firm hand dealt him in turn a blow which took a palm from off his raiment and the flesh behind. Seeing his blood, which fast began to stream, the giant uttered first a fearful cry, then ran at Jaufry, raising his knotted club with both his hands.
Scarce could the youthful knight evade the stroke and leap behind a column; the monster struck it with such dire strength, the massive iron crushed the marble plinth, and all the castle groaned.
Meanwhile the damsel fervently prayed Heaven, as humbly on the blood-stained stones she knelt:
“O, mighty Lord, who in Thy image didst great Adam make; Thou who hast done so much to save us all,—now save me from this wretch, and let yon knight withdraw me from his hands!”
Her orison scarce o'er, Jaufry stepped out, and ere the giant could again his heavy club let fall, he with his trenchant blade had severed his right arm. Being thus lopped, the monster in his wrath and agony so loudly groaned, the palace trembled to its very base and shook the outer air. In vain did Jaufry dodge his falling mace, it struck him to the ground; so that from nostrils, eyes, and mouth, the purple stream burst forth. The mace, in falling on the marble flags, now brake in twain, which Jaufry seeing, he uprose in haste, and newly struck the leper; at the knee-joint he aimed; the monster reeled, then fell like some great tree.
Prone as the leper lay, Jaufry ran up, his sword in air, and said:
“Methinks that peace will soon be made 'twixt you and me.”
Then letting fall his sword with both his hands, he clove the monster's head e'en to the teeth. In the convulsions of his agony still fiercely strove the wretch, and with his foot hurled him so madly 'gainst the distant wall, Sir Jaufry fell deprived of sound and sight. His trembling hand no longer clutched his sword; like ruby wine, from nostrils and from mouth burst forth his blood, and motion made he none.*
* E l'mezel a si repennat,
Que tal cop l'a del pe donat,
For an instant's space the damsel thought her champion was gone. In grief she hastened to undo the straps which bound his polished casque. The freshness drawing from his breast a sigh, she ran for water, and his face she bathed. His senses half-re-turned, he staggered up, and thinking still to hold his trusty blade, he struck the damsel,—deeming her the foe,—to such effect that both rolled on the ground. Like madman then he sped around the hall, and ran behind a column, where he crouched and trembled 'neath his shield.
'Twas there the damsel came; and in a voice of dulcet tone, she said:
“Brave knight, come, ope again those manly eyes, and see who 'tis that speaks. Forget ye what is due to chivalry, of which you are a lord? your courage and your fame? Recall yourself, and lower that bright shield; behold, the leper's dead!”
C'a ana part, lo fas anar
E si ab la paret urtar
Que l'auzer li tolc e l'vezer
Et anet à terra cazer
E l'sanc tot yin clar e vermeil
I eis per lo nas e la bocha.....
Ms. fol. 28 verso, verse 2461.
Jaufry recovered at this heart'ning speech, and finding his head bare,—
“Damsel,” he asked, “who hath removed my casque, and taken my good sword?”
“Myself, good lord, whilst you were in a swoon.”
“The giant, what doth he?”
“Bathed in his blood and at your feet he lies.” Jaufry looked up, and when the corpse he saw thus shattered and quite still, he slowly rose, and sat him on a bench until his senses were again restored; then, when the dizziness had fled his brain, he thought upon the mother and the child, and straightway ran from hall to hall to search the infant out. But though he sought and ran and called aloud, neither the leper nor the child appeared.
“I will yet search and search,” he then exclaimed; “or here or out the door they must be found; for I'll not hold me at a denier's worth till to the mother her poor child's restored, and I've had vengeance for that leper's scorn.”
With such resolve, he strode towards the door; but though the portal was thrown open wide, he could not pass it through. Spite of his will, his efforts, and his strength, his feet seemed stopped before an unseen bar.
“Good Heaven,” he said, “what! am I then entranced?”
He drew him back, and gathering for a spring, with wond'rous force he bounded to the door. Still all was vain, he could not cross the sill. Again and yet again he tried, till deep discouragement iced o'er his heart. Then tears broke from his eyes, and murmuring:
“Alas, good Lord,” he said, “Thou gav'st me strength to kill yon wicked wretch; what boots it, if I here must captive be?”
'Twas as he thus bemoaned his adverse fate, there broke upon his ear from some nigh place a sound of infant tongues, which sadly cried:
“Save us, O, save us, mighty lord!”
Swift at the sound he roused his spirit up, and running, found at one end of a hall a close-shut door fast bolted from within. Jaufry called out, and struck it with great noise; yet answer none was made: enraged at this, he burst it in with force, and with his naked blade entered a gloomy vault. There was the leper found, with knife in hand, who seven infants had just put to death. Some thirty more there still remained alive, whose bitter cries went through the softened soul.
Touched at the frightful sight, Jaufry struck down the wretch, who called his master's help; and then in wrath exclaimed:
“Thy master, villain, can no answer make; his soul this earth hath fled: and thou, for erstwhile making mock of me, shalt now thy meed receive.”
Raising meanwhile his arm, the leper's hand he severed at a blow. The wretch upon the blood-stained pavement rolled; then crawling to his feet, he humbly cried:
“Mercy, good knight; in God's name, pity me, and take not quite my life! 'Twas by constraint and force I killed these babes. My lord, who sought to cure his leprosy, bade me, with awful threats, each day prepare a bath of human blood.”
“Thy life I'll grant,” quoth Jaufry to him then, “an that thou give me means to leave this place.”
“I can,” the leper said; “but had you now deprived me of my life, not knowing of the spell, a hundred thousand years had rolled their course, and yet not seen you free.”
“Haste thee, then, now,” quoth Jaufry, eagerly. “Sir knight,” the man with shining face replied, “you still have much to bear. Such is the fashion of this castle's spell, my lord alone could power grant to such as hither came to cross the threshold; but never did they pass it in return save dead or maimed.”
“How, then, wilt thou succeed?” said Jaufry.
“Spy you, on top of yonder casement high, a marble head?”
“Yea, by my faith! And then?”
“Lo, reach it down; and break it fair in twain; you'll thus destroy the charm: but first your armour carefully put on; for when the spell is o'er, these castle-walls will crumble into dust.”
Trusting not wholly to the lep'rous wretch, Jaufry then bound him by the feet and arms, and to the damsel thus confided him:
“If he hath lied,” said he, “spare not his life.” Then he resumed his helm, took down the marble head, whose shape was fair and cunningly devised, and setting it near him on a wooden bench, discharged on't with his sword so great a blow, he clove it dean in twain. Sudden it shrieked, it moaned, it bounded up, hissing and growling as a thunderbolt; whilst the vexed elements at once unchained, and beam and stone at war with frightful din came crushing over Jaufry. Vainly his shield was raised to guard his head; Heaven's face was darkened o'er; an awful storm, where wind and lightning strove, bursting with ruin, 'mid the ambient air had borne the knight away, but for his orison to heaven's King. Huge clouds of dust rose upwards to the skies; while a fierce wind, in passing, swept away the last memorial of the magic work: of castle naught remained.
[Original Size] -- [Medium-Size]
Bowed down, and scarce himself, did Jaufry move his limbs. Bowed down and bruised and tottering, dragged he some steps, then fell. The maid, the slave, and mother with her child, who had sought refuge 'neath a huge rock's vault, found him at length outstretched upon the turf, his strength exhausted and quite motionless.
“Say, then, good knight,” the damsel smiling spoke, “how fares it with you now?”
“I have no bruise that's perilous, nor mortal wound,” replied the knight; “but such this latter strife, I find, indeed, I sadly lack repose.”
The damsel then embraced him with her arms, and pressed her lips upon his eyes and mouth. When Jaufry saw the mother,—
“Woman,” he said, “hast thou regained thy child?”
“I have, my lord; thanks, be it told, to you.”
“An it be so, proceed then to Carlisle, with this fair damsel, babes, and leper,—all. There I must beg you go, King Arthur thank, from Jaufry, Dovon's son, and tell him of this fight.”
Thus speaking, he uprose; drew to his fancy his good horse's girths; and having consigned his friends to Heaven's care, resumed his quest of Taulat: albeit 'twas now with measured steps and slow; for this dread battle had worn out his strength.
Having obtained her mantle and her horse, the maid set out from thence at the like hour, and with her went the leper and the rest; nor stayed she on the way, but only stopped when she had reached fair Carlisle's lofty towers.
There all regarded her with wonderment.
“Whence can proceed,” they said, “this strange cortège? whence come these people? and what want they here?” The curious crowd followed that damsel fair up to the castle-gates, and there the knights, who noble escort made, led her with all her troop before the king.
There bended she her knee, and as a dame of gentle breeding spoke:
“May He, the Lord of all and of all things, who in His hands doth justly hold the keys of good and ill, increase your fame, and keep in glory the knights of your Round Table!”
“And,” said the worthy king, “may Heaven save you, sweet damsel, who are fair and good as courteous and well-bred!”
“Sire, from Jaufry, Dovon's son, I come, to thank you for my life; which to his mighty valour do I owe. I am the daughter of the Count Passant, whose name perchance hath reached your royal ear. A knight of high esteem, who sought adventure to display his worth, brought me from Normandy to these fair shores. For seven long months, by valley and by hill we wandered on, full many a snare escaping, and without check full many a weary fight. This land did hold, alas, a giant dread, of hideous aspect, and of awful strength, eaten with leprosy and fearful sores, whose thought doth make my very soul to heave. Before us suddenly this wretch appeared; and taking from his neck a monstrous club, struck at my lord with force so terrible, he stunned him with the blow. Like as a child then, clutching at his arm, against a rock he fractured every bone; whilst me he seized from off my palfrey's back, and to his magic castle quickly bore. There I had lost my life, yea, more than life, but that high Heaven, whose justice I implored, in mercy sent Sir Jaufry to my aid. This doughty knight at length the monster slew; but ne'er can I with greater truth aver, such battle never did these eyes behold, or blows so great e'er given and received.”
The mother and the handless leper told their tale in turn. But whilst they thus their message each relates, we will to Jaufry go, who onward still his course doth slowly take, without he yet a single soul descried who could give tidings of the man he sought.