Chap. l.—This story is in the other Gesta, but differently related. A king on some domestic difference with his wife, had been told by her that one only of her three sons was legitimate; but which of them was so she refused to discover. This gave him much uneasiness; and his death soon afterwards approaching, he called his children together, and declared in the presence of witnesses, that he left a ring which had very singular properties to him that should be found to be his lawful son. On his death a dispute arose between the youths, and it was at length agreed to refer its decision to the king of Jerusalem. He immediately ordered that the dead body of the father should be taken up and tied to a tree: that each of the sons should shoot an arrow at it, and that he who penetrated the deepest should have the ring. The eldest shot first, and the arrow went far into the body; the second shot also, and deeper than the other. The youngest son stood at a distance, and wept bitterly; but the king said to him, "Young man, take your arrow and shoot as your brothers have done." He answered, "Far be it from me to commit so great a crime. I would not for the whole world disfigure the body of my father." The king said, "Without doubt you are his son, and the others only bastards; to you therefore I adjudge the ring."
This story has been entitled The judgment of Solomon, and is probably of oriental origin.[132] It is often represented in that illumination which in the ancient manuscripts of the French translation of the Bible by Guiars des Moulins is prefixed to the proverbs of Solomon, although the story itself does not occur in that bible, nor in the original commentary by Petrus Comestor. It appears to have been a great favourite in the middle ages, and was often related from the pulpit.[133] The original judgment of Solomon in the first book of Kings had probably reached the continent of India at some very early period, as it is imitated in the following story which occurs in one of the books belonging to the kingdom of Pegu. Two women went out together to bathe, each accompanied by her child. Whilst they were in the water, the children being left on the bank of the river, an alligator seized one of them and carried it away. A dispute arose between the women for the possession of the remaining infant, and they at length agreed to go before the judge. To determine the controversy, the judge ordered one of the women to lay hold of the child's head, and the other of its heels, and thus to pull for it. In the course of the struggle, the child was hurt, and cried out; one of the women instantly quitted her hold, and the other carried off the prize. The judge ordered her to be brought back, and told her that as she had manifested so little compassion for the sufferings of the child, she could not possibly be its mother. The infant was restored to the other woman.[134] There is another ingenious adjudication by the emperor Claudius, scarcely inferior to Solomon's. A woman had refused to acknowledge her son: and, the arguments on each side being doubtful, Claudius ordered that the parties should be married. The mother was compelled to a confession. See Sueton. in Claud. cap. 15.
Chap. li.—Archillaus, a Roman emperor of an elegant person and lofty stature, was desirous to have a shirt made by the hands of a pure and spotless virgin, in such a skilful and subtile manner as to prolong the duration of his life. After the strictest search no such virgin could be found; or at least, says the story, no female whose talents were competent to the task. Some time afterwards the emperor walking in his orchard, and meditating on the above matter, was accosted by a certain person who told him that he believed there was one young woman remaining in the country who was in all respects capable of performing what he desired. A messenger was immediately despatched by the emperor on this pleasing mission, with instructions to salute the lady most honourably on his part, and to present her with a particular piece of cloth three inches only in length and breadth, and to request that she would convert it into the shirt required; with a promise that if she succeeded, she should become his wife. The messenger faithfully executed his instructions; but when the damsel saw the cloth, she told him that it was impossible with such a quantity to make a shirt that would fit the emperor in the manner required, but undertook notwithstanding to make one according to the best of her ability. When the emperor heard the answer he sent a pure and handsome vessel to the lady, in which she manufactured a shirt that gave him satisfaction. He performed his promise and married her. This very silly and obscure story is allegorized into the miraculous conception of the Virgin Mary.
Chap. liv.—Is also in the other Gesta, but here related with much greater variety of circumstance, and in all respects improved. The story has been very properly termed by Mr. Warton, a beautiful one; but he has not been equally accurate in his statement that "Occleve has literally followed the book before us (i. e. the original Gesta,) and has even translated into English prose the moralisation annexed." Occleve's immediate model was our English Gesta; nor is it improbable that he might even be the translator of it; the moralisation also is entirely different.[135] Mr. Warton has omitted to notice that this story corresponds with that of Fortunatus; which, unless itself of oriental origin, might have been taken from it.[136]
Chap. lvi.—An emperor who had only a daughter, hunting one day in a forest, lost his way, and was obliged to seek shelter in the cottage of a forester. He was kindly and hospitably received, and after taking some refreshment, retired to rest without disclosing to the man who he was. As he lay in bed he thought he heard a voice that said to him, "take, take, take;" presently after, another that cried, "give, give, give;" and then a third that still more emphatically pronounced these words, "fly, fly, fly; for this night a child is born who shall succeed to your empire." When he arose in the morning, he inquired of the forester if any child had been born during the night, who informed him that his wife had just been delivered of a son. The emperor then discovered himself, examined a mark on the child's forehead, and told the man that he should send for it the next day, as he designed to have it bred up at his court. On his return home he directed some confidential servants to take away the child from the forester's cottage, to put it to death, and to bring back its heart, that he might be satisfied that his orders were obeyed. A contention arose among the domestics about destroying the infant,[137] and one more humane than the rest, proposed the killing of a pig in its stead, and delivering the heart to the king. This was at length acceded to by the others. The child was wrapped up in some linen, and placed in a hollow tree for present shelter. When the emperor received the supposed heart of the child he cast it into the fire, and mocked the idle dreams that had tormented him. Shortly after, as an earl was hunting in the above forest, the dogs discovered the child, which was taken home and committed to the care of the earl's wife, whom he prevailed on to acknowledge it as their own, and to give out that she had just been delivered of it. When thirteen years had elapsed from this time, the emperor proclaimed a great feast, to which, among others, the earl was invited, who carried the boy with him as a squire to attend his person. When the youth came into the presence of the emperor, the latter instantly perceived the mark on his forehead, and in great anger interrogated the earl so strictly that he confessed the manner in which he had discovered the child. But the emperor's indignation was still more excited against the servants whom he had employed. He sent for them and commanded them on their oaths to speak the truth. The emperor, now satisfied of the identity of the youth, informed the earl that he should retain him at his court, and that he himself was at liberty to return home. It happened that at this time the empress was in a foreign kingdom with her daughter. The emperor therefore sent the youth to her with a letter in which he commanded her to cause him to be put to death in the most cruel and ignominious manner. In the prosecution of his journey, the poor young man came to the castle of a knight whom he humbly entreated to afford him lodging; and being hospitably received, laid himself down to sleep, placing near him a box in which he had deposited the letter. The knight accidentally seeing the box, became anxious to know its contents; and having opened it immediately perceived the emperor's signet. This he very carefully put aside, and, reading the letter, was moved with compassion for the youth. He immediately resolved to save his life, and substituted another letter, in which the king was made to direct the empress to marry her daughter to the young man with great solemnity, and to detain him with her until he should himself arrive. This letter was delivered to the empress, and the supposed directions of the emperor complied with. The youth by his deportment engaged the affections of all. Some time afterwards the emperor resolved to visit the empress, and on his arrival she went out to meet him accompanied by her children. As soon as the emperor saw the young man, he again recognized him; and, beholding his wife with looks of fury and indignation, he demanded of her why she had omitted to obey his commands. She maintained that they had been obeyed by the marriage of the youth to their daughter, who then stood before him, and, as she perceived, with child. The anger of the emperor was now mitigated, and he exclaimed, "The will of the Lord be done, for I see it is in vain to oppose it." He saluted his children with great affection, and they succeeded happily to his throne.
Chap. lxii.—Cornelius seduces an emperor's daughter, murders her infant, and abandons her. The emperor expostulates to no purpose. He then proclaims a tournament in which the wicked knight is overcome. The princess is brought back to her father.
Chap. lxviii.—An emperor in his old age foolishly married a young wife, who carried on an intrigue with a certain knight. He resolved to make a journey to the Holy Land, and, setting out immediately, left his kingdom in the custody of the empress and his nobles. The captain of the ship in which he embarked, having received a large bribe for the purpose, threw the unfortunate emperor into the sea, and returned home with the news of his death, to the great joy of the wicked empress. The old monarch, who had been a good swimmer from his youth, fortunately reached an island which he found inhabited only by wild beasts. The third day after his arrival, he saw in a wood a young lion fighting with a strong and full-grown leopard; and compassionating the lion, who was nearly overpowered by his adversary, he drew his sword and killed the leopard. The grateful lion remained with him, and every day brought him as food some animal that he had hunted, which the emperor dressed by means of a fire that he contrived to make. After some time had elapsed, as he was one day walking on the shore, he perceived a ship, and making signals of distress, was taken on board. The faithful lion plunged after him into the sea, and swam by the side of the vessel, till some of the sailors, perceiving that he was exhausted with fatigue and about to sink, lifted him into the ship. On the emperor's arrival in his own kingdom he handsomely rewarded the captain, and proceeded to his palace accompanied by the lion. When he arrived there, he heard the sound of musical instruments, and perceived other demonstrations of joy. On inquiry he learned that the empress had been just married, and that his subjects believed he had perished in his voyage to the Holy Land. He then applied to one of the domestics of the palace to report him to the new emperor as a minstrel newly arrived, and to request that he might be permitted to entertain him with the tricks of his lion. He was ordered to appear before the new sovereign; whom the lion no sooner beheld than he instantly tore him in pieces, and immediately afterwards the empress. The nobles, astonished at what they saw, were now preparing to make their escape, when the emperor discovered himself, and desired them to lay aside their fear, as the vengeance of God had been accomplished. After relating his adventures, he reassumed his government.
Chap. lxx.—Josias, a warlike king, was married to the king of Apulia's daughter, who had vowed she would unite herself to that man only who had obtained the victory in all his battles. Walking one day in his garden he saw it written in a star, that he should undertake as many wars for the love of Christ as he had for that of his lady, to whom he communicated the vision. She was extremely afflicted at the news, and threatened to destroy herself and the infant in her womb, but was comforted by her husband with a promise of returning as soon as he had conquered all the enemies of Christ. He then departed in company with Tirius, a valiant knight to whom he was attached, and they shortly arrived in Ethiopia. The king desired his friend to remain there, and subdue the country, whilst he should accomplish other conquests. Tirius requested of the king that he would send him occasional tidings of himself, and directions how to act in his absence. This was promised; and the knight received at the same time a ring from his master, as a pledge whereby to remember him. The king took his departure, and went to the Holy Land. In his absence a certain tyrant named Acharon, made war against Tirius; and finding it impossible to subdue him, accused him of treason to the king of Ethiopia, who deprived him of all his possessions, so that he became very poor and was obliged to beg his bread. Josias soon afterwards returned from the Holy Land to Ethiopia, in the character of a pilgrim, and by chance met Tirius, whom he immediately recognized, but remained himself unknown. He put many questions to his friend, who related to him his misfortunes, and added, that he was in daily expectation of the speedy return of his own sovereign, whose token he still preserved, and whom he described as the better half of his soul. Josias told him that he had travelled far on account of the love he also bore to the same person; that he was exceedingly fatigued, and requested of him to sit down that he might repose his head on his bosom. Tirius answered, that he would do this and much more for him. Whilst Josias was asleep, a white weasel issued from his mouth, and proceeding towards a mountain, walked round it. It then returned, and again entered the mouth of the king. Tirius wondered much at this, and when the king awoke was interrogated as to what he had seen. Josias, on being informed, said, "Let us go to the mountain, perhaps we may behold more wonders." On their coming to a hollow place in the mountain, they found a dragon lying dead, with a large quantity of gold in his belly, and a sharp sword, on which was inscribed, "By my power, and with the king's assistance, the knight Tirius shall once more possess his lands." Josias then discovered himself to his friend, who fell on the ground and kissed his feet. The king gave all the gold to Tirius, but reserved the sword for himself, and commanded the knight not to disclose who he was until they should have accomplished their purpose. Josias then proceeded in his pilgrim's habit to the king's palace, where he found the tyrant Acharon, and sat himself down before the largest table. The king inquired of him whence he came and what tidings he brought. The pilgrim answered, "I come from the Holy Land, where many persons recommend your soul to Christ for having despoiled a worthy knight of his lands on the lying accusation of a tyrant." Acharon then exclaimed, "Why hast thou uttered these things? I would thou wert able to defend thyself, that I might fight with thee." The pilgrim requested leave to accept the challenge, which the king granted, and promised that if he obtained the victory he should not only receive all the lost lands of the knight, but be made the second man in his kingdom. The day of battle was appointed, and the combatants respectively maintained the contest with considerable valour. At length Acharon, exhausted with fatigue, was about to yield, when he said to the pilgrim, "You are doubtless a generous adversary, I die with thirst; suffer me to go once to the river and drink." The pilgrim acquiesced on the like conditions for himself. When Acharon had quenched his thirst, his strength returned; he renewed the combat with vigour, and Josias, in his turn, sorely pressed, requested permission to drink. His treacherous enemy not only refused him, but compelled him to fight his way to the water, into which he plunged and assuaged his thirst. Having recovered his strength, the battle was continued till the evening; and when Acharon was once more about to yield the victory, the king parted the combatants, and appointed the next day to renew the battle. At night the king sent for the pilgrim, commended his valour, and desired his daughter to take him under her care, and provide him with all necessaries, that he might be able to maintain the combat on the following day. The damsel then led him to a chamber, bathed him,[138] prepared his supper, and afterwards placed him in a bed with four feet, so that it could be easily moved from place to place. In the mean time Acharon called together his four sons, all of them robust young men; told them of the danger his life would be in if he should renew the contest with the pilgrim on the ensuing day, and prevailed with them to seize him in his chamber whilst he slept, and throw him into the sea. It happened that a fisherman from his vessel perceived by the light of the moon the floating bed, and to his great astonishment a man lying upon it. Josias also awoke, and wondered much at seeing the stars over his head. The fisherman cried out to the king, and the king to him for assistance, telling him he was the person who had the day before been engaged in combat with the tyrant. The fisherman took him on board his vessel, and afterwards to his dwelling, where he was again put to bed. On the morrow Acharon armed himself and went to the palace, exclaiming aloud, "Bring forth the traitor pilgrim, that I may this day present his head to our lord the king." When the princess was ordered by her father to awake the pilgrim, she was astonished to find him gone, together with the bed; and when the king heard the strange news he was much grieved, for he loved the pilgrim, and detested the tyrant. The fisherman at length appeared and related what had happened. Josias returned to the palace, armed himself, once more attacked his adversary, who was by this time quite dejected, and cutting off his head, presented it to the king. He was then desired to name the reward that he wished for, when he requested that the lands which Tirius had acquired by his valour might be again restored to him. Josias afterwards took leave of his friend, returned to his own kingdom, and ended his days in peace.[139]
Chap. lxxi.—An emperor committed the education of his only son to one of his knights, who had obtained a victory at a tournament. The child was placed in a chamber, round which the seven liberal sciences were depicted, so that when he lay awake in bed he could be gathering all kinds of knowledge. Near the bed was a fountain, in which the child could bathe, and beyond the fountain a window to admit the sun. It happened that a bear, finding the door open, entered the chamber and washed himself in the fountain, so that the water was much infected with his filth. The knight and his wife soon afterwards drank of the fountain, and became leprous. An eagle also flew in at the window, and carried off the king's son. At length a skilful physician was consulted, who cured the parties of their leprosy, and instructed them how to recover the child.
Chap. lxxii.—A king hears the song of a nightingale. He is desirous of knowing what it means; and, applying to a wise knight, is informed that it directs him to seek three things, viz. joy without sorrow, abundance without want, and light without darkness. The king sets out in pursuit of them, and arrives in a kingdom where the sovereign was just dead, leaving his throne to his sister. She becomes enamoured of the royal traveller and offers him marriage. Here the story is discontinued, but the narrator refers to chap. iv. as containing the same matter.