And as one cast at him his startled bird, the other plucked his cap from off his head and threw it madly 'gainst bold Jaufry's shield. Their fury and hard words finished as ceased that cry; when, quickly following the wond'ring knight, with honeyed phrase they charmed away his wrath, and to their habitation led the way.
This was a châtelet of graceful form, girded by lofty walls and outer fosse, through which a living stream for ever ran. Beside the bridge there sat an aged knight, listing a minstrel's song,—The Lay of the Two Lovers. * It was the father of the two young men: beholding Jaufry, he in haste arose, and came to give him welcome; saying, with joyful tone: **
* Of Marie of France.
** This knight in Cervantes' hands is the nobleman clad in
green (Cavaliero vestido en gavan de pano fino verde, parte
ii. lib. v. cap. xvi.).
“I am beholden, lord, to those who've brought you: seven long years have flown since stranger-guest hath this my threshold crossed whose aspect pleased me so: God save you, sir!”
Thus speaking, by the arm the knight escorted Jaufry to the hall, where the two youths removed his armour bright. Soon there came in a damsel fair, of fresh and smiling look, who brought him a rich mantle, which when he had put on, she, on a cushion placed beside him, sat. Then they discoursed on various pleasant things until 'twas time for water to be brought. A well-bred page did pour it o'er his hands, while the fair damsel held the ready bowl; at which Sir Jaufry said:
“Maiden, I'll not this kindly act refuse; for should you e'er need service at my hands, whate'er the hour or place, you may full surely call me to your aid.”
They then at table sat; and when the meal was o'er, the cloth removed, the damsel went the couches to prepare, and left her father and the knight alone. The old man asked his name, and wept for joy to learn the son of Dovon was his guest,—his ancient friend in arms. He would have fain a month detained him there; but Jaufry cleverly excuses made, and at the point of day he in his saddle found himself again. The maid had given him his shield and lance, and he his leave was then about to take, when it occurred to him to ask his host about that wailing cry. Scarcely, however, was the question put when the old man and his two sons alike assailed him with hard names: they called him knave and wretch and villain's son; they hair in that unseemly rage.
Jaufry by dint of spur escaped their wrath; and wond'ring saw them on each other turn their fitful ire, and tear their clothes to rags. Their fury spent, they called him back again; and Jaufry, wishing to have news of Taulat, consented to return. As it fell out, no man could give him more. The aged knight well knew that champion fierce, and in these terms did tell him what he sought:
“Follow,” he said, “all day this very road; it leads across a tract of desert space, where ne'er are found or house or town, or bread or wine, or man of mother born. If you should wish in passing to repose, naught but the turf can be your host or tent. Go onward thus until to-morrow's sun. Before the noon you will have reached a plain, wherein is set a high and rugged mount. There, at its foot, a castle you'll behold, pleasant and finely built; and round its moats a crowd of tents and huts, where harbour knights and lords of high descent. Pass stoutly on, nor speak a word to man; go to the castle without stop or stay, whatever tried to strike at him with sturdy dubs, and tore their may befall, and enter boldly in, leaving without your lance, and eke your shield. There will you find two dames,—one old, one young,—who watch a wounded knight. Go to the ancient dame, and to her say, that Augier de Cliart sends you there, that she may tell you why the people groan, and give you news of Taulat.”