At that moment a jongleur drew near Archambaut and addressed him, saying:
“Sir, the king desires to bestow arms upon Thibaut, count of Blois, and I come from Thibaut himself, who prays you to join him.”
Lord Archambaut took his leave of the queen more troubled than he let her see. He was, indeed, in a bad humour because of what she had said; and, when he had seen Thibaut and more than four hundred others knighted by the king, he summoned his squire:
“Have the bells rung for vespers,” he ordered. “It will be time to sup when the king has heard them.”
When the ladies, seated at the windows, heard the bells, they cried:
“Why, it is not yet none, and already they are ringing vespers! May she lose her husband who stirs a step while yet one knight is left in the lists! Never shall I leave the tiltyard for vespers!”
The king entered at that moment and, going graciously up to Flamenca, led her away. The barons followed him and led the ladies to church. When the office was ended, the king brought Flamenca back and playfully placed his hand upon her breast.
The queen was very wroth at this, and lord Archambaut also, though he gave no sign.
Then they supped. The tables were furnished with roast meats, with fruits, with fresh roses and violets, and with snow and ice to cool the wine, that it might not banish sleep. All were tired with the diversions of this day, and soon went to seek repose till the morrow.
The next morning, at daybreak, the newmade knights, clad in their gear, rode through the streets, ringing bells of every sort. They made a fine hubbub, and Archambaut’s trouble grew as he heard it. In his heart was such grief he was like to die thereof. Yet he sought to hold himself in leash, blaming the queen for the suspicions she had sown in his breast, and concealing his feelings from the others.