After Sir Jaufry had rode on his way, Estout his promise kept, and to each knight restored both horse and arms. That evening he set out for Arthur's court, which he resolved to reach before the jousts and games and banquetings were o'er. Eight days had they been holden in those halls when he arrived there with his company. 'Twas after dinner, as the king was seated with his lords, lending an ear to minstrels' tales and the discourse of knights, who told of acts of lofty prowess done, that Estout came with that armed troop of knights. Having alighted at the palace-gates, they soon were led before the worthy king; when, kneeling at his feet, Estout expressed himself in terms like these:
“Sure, may that high King who made and fashioned all things, He, the Lord of every sovereign, who hath nor peer nor mate, now save us in your company!”
“Friend,” the king replied, “God save you, and your friends beside! Who are ye, and what come ye here to seek?”
“My lord, I will recount you the whole truth: from Jaufry, son of Dovon, come we, to proclaim ourselves your captives, and submit to your just law. Sir Jaufry hath delivered all these knights, whom I had captured one by one, and who were bound to follow me on foot,—for they had mercy only on such terms; now he hath conquered me by force of arms.”
“And when thou last beheldst him,” asked the king, “by that true faith thou ow'st to gracious Heaven, say, was he well in health?”
“Yea, sire, by the troth I owe to you, believe, that eight days since, arise to-morrow's sun, I left him sound, robust, and full of fire. He would not even tarry to break bread; for he declared no food should pass his lips, no joy, no pleasure, no repose be his, until the knight named Taulat he had found. He now is on his track; and I engage, that if he meet him, and a chance do get to measure sword with sword, it will be strange an he not force him to cry grace; for I do not believe the world doth own a braver knight, or one more strong in arms. I speak from proof, who dearly know his force.”
“O Heaven, in which I trust,” cried Arthur, as he clasped his hands, “grant me my prayer, that Jaufry fry safe and sound may back return! Already is he known a doughty knight, and noble are the gifts he hither sends.”
Leave we now bold Estout to tell his tale, and turn we to our knight. I have related how Sir Jaufry still went on seeking his foe by valley and by mount; yet neither spied nor heard he living man to give him tidings. He rode on thus, nor met he man or beast till the high noon was passed. The sun had now become intensely hot, and hardly could he bear its burning ray; still, neither sun, nor hunger, thirst, nor aught beside, could cow his spirit. Determined not to stop upon his road till he had Taulat met, he still progressed, though ne'er a soul was seen.
As he pressed hotly on, some hours' riding found the youthful knight close by a gentle hill shaded by one of nature's finest trees. Pendent there hung from an outstretching bough a fair white lance of ash with point of burnished steel. Thinking a knight perchance was resting near, Jaufry in that direction turned his horse, and galloped towards the spot. When he had reached the bottom of the hill, he nimbly leapt him down, and walked to the high tree; but, to his great surprise, no soul was there, naught save the lance suspended to the bough. With wonder then—asking of himself why arm so stout and good, the point of which like virgin silver shone, should there be placed—he took it down, and his own resting gainst the mossy trunk, handled and brandished this new dainty lance, which he discovered to be good as fair.
“Good faith,” quoth he, “I will e'en keep this arm, and leave mine own behind.”