CHAPTER XI. THE COURT OF CARLISLE.
Lord Melyan and his troop were still encamped upon the borders of the magic pond. Judge their surprise, their shouts, their whirl of joy, when, 'mid a numerous train, Sir Jaufry rose!
As for fair Brunissende, so great the emotion which such change produced, it found no vent in words, but in a swoon she fell into his arms. Jaufry related how the fairy's art had to her country led him through the deep and darksome waters; how he had vanquished her great giant foe, and gained the wondrous hawk for the good king. Then, the recital o'er, they gaily took their way, and at the peep of the next following morn they saw fair Carlisle's towers. Leaving their train a little way behind, Jaufry and Melyan, clad in armour bright, pranced on the glacis with eight chosen knights. Such a brarado at King Arthur's court could not unnoticed pass. Quex, the high seneschal, soon crossed the bridge, and meeting Jaufry, cried:
“Good sooth, sir knight, thou shalt repent thy coming.”
“'Tis thou shalt feel repentance more than I,” responded Jaufry, who divined the man, and meeting him full speed, did with such strength and art assail Sir Quex, he hurled him to the ground.
As he essayed to struggle to his feet, he reeled a pace, then fell, while Jaufry cried:
“Why how now, jolly Quex? what say'st, art drunk?”
Gawain had now appeared upon the field, spurring his horse to join in the affray. Sir Jaufry went to meet the worthy lord, and as he yielded up Sir Quex's horse:
“To you alone, good knight,” he said, “I yield.”
Gawain then knew the voice of Dovon's son, and pressed him in his arms; which, when his squire had learnt, he flew to take the tidings to the king. Good Arthur overjoyed then left his halls, and with a gallant host of knights and lords came forth to honour Taulat's vanquisher. Fair Brunissende he courteously did greet with all her train; then, smiling, said to Jaufry:
“Hath, then, our seneschal on you his horse thus gen'rously bestowed?”
“My lord,” the son of Dovon made reply, “perchance you may remember, on the day I begged you arms to follow Taulat's track, Sir Quex exclaimed, I'd fight him better drunk. 'Twas then my wish to teach him, good my lord, how I can strike when fasting.”
“He is well struck, methinks,” the king replied; “and may the lesson stead him!”
Saying the words, he led Sir Jaufry in to good Queen Guenever, who, as she tended him her rosy cheek, thanked him with warmth for having 'venged her cause on Taulat. King Arthur on his side did give him thanks for all the precious gifts he there had sent,—the fair white ashen lance, the yeoman's dwarf and e'en the leper's too, Estout de Verfeil and the captive knights, Melyan, and Taulat's numerous prisoners, with Eclon d'Albaru; then was the convent-church most richly decked, to which the king in pomp conducted him with the fair Brunissende.
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More than a score of thousand gallant knights the fair betrothed accompanied. The good archbishop, who had chanted mass, before the altar joined the happy pair; then to the palace back again they came, and the great feast began. At trumpet sound, Lucas the royal steward, with twenty thousand pages clad in vests of scarlet silk, bearing fine snowy cloths, vases of silver and rich cups of gold, flocked to the hall to furnish forth the boards. Already harps had tinkled, minstrels tried to charm their hearers with the gay romance, when straight into the hall a squire rushed, crying aloud:
“To arms! good lords, to arms; defend your lives!”
“What hast thou seen, good Mend?” King Arthur said.
“O sire, I've seen a bird, a wond'rous bird, which never man of mother born described. He hath a beak at least ten palms in length, and a huge head large as a fisher's boat; his eyes like carbuncles or diamonds shine; and then his feet, good sooth, without a lie they are as big—as big as yonder door. I know not how I did escape his maw; but ne'er methinks was I so near my death.”
“Bring me my arms,” exclaimed the gallant king, “that I may learn whether this squire hath lied.”
Gawain, Sir Jaufry, and Lord Melyan, fain would follow him to help; but he forbade, and thus alone did quit the castle. Scarce had he crossed the bridge, when he beheld this marvellous great bird. He quietly drew nigh, his shield on arm, his sword within his hand. But, spreading its grand wings, the bird escaped a blow full promptly aimed; and by both arms embracing tight the king, rose with its prey full swiftly in the air. Ladies and knights despairingly rushed out, and o'er the country spread with rending cries. The bird still rose; and when in bulk it seemed no bigger than a crane, it then the king let go. The crowd, all breathless, hastened to the spot, where they expected that their king would fall crushed from that dizzy height. Not so! ere that he reached the ground the bird had deftly seized on him again, and to the summit of a lofty tower borne him in ease away. Reposing there a space, with rapid wing it flew towards the wood, wheeled with a graceful flight, then to the palace brought the king again; itself returning to a human shape, that of the fair enchanter, whom Arthur pardoned, as he'd done at Pentecost, the fright his trick had caused. And thus did close the joyous nuptial feast of brave Sir Jaufry and fair Brunissende. The morrow-morn they left the merry court; and all the train, which called Sir Melyan lord, escorted back in triumph to Montbrun that happy pair, meeting upon their way the lady of the pond (she was in fact the fairy of Gibel), who there had come to bless their life and love.
