The World's Greatest Books - Volume 1 Part 12

In the meantime, the cry went through all the country that Nicolette was lost. Some said that she had gone away; others that Count Garin had put her to death. If any man had joy in the news, that man was not Auca.s.sin.

His father let him out of prison, and summoned all the knights and ladies of the land to a great feast that he made to comfort his young son. But when the revelry was at its height, there was Auca.s.sin leaning despondently from a gallery, sorrowful and utterly downcast. And an old knight saw him, and came to him.

"Auca.s.sin," he said, "there was a time when I, too, was sick with the sickness that you have. If you will trust me, I will give you some good counsel."

"Gramercy," answered Auca.s.sin. "Good counsel is indeed a precious thing."

"Mount your horse and ride into the forest," said the old knight. "You will see the flowers and the sweet herbs, and hear the birds singing.

And, perchance, you may also hear a word that will take away your sickness."

"Gramercy," said Auca.s.sin. "That is what I will do."

He stole out of the hall, and went to the stable, and bridled and saddled his horse, and rode swiftly out into the forest. By the fountain he found the herd-boys. They had spread a cloak out on the gra.s.s, and were eating their bread and making merry.

Jolly herd-boys, every one: Martin, Emery, and John, Aubrey, Oliver, and Matt By the fountain-side they sat.

"Here," said John, "comes Auca.s.sin, Son of our good Count Garin.

Faith, he is a handsome boy!

Let us wish him luck and joy."

"And the girl with yellow hair Wandering in the forest there,"

Aubrey said. "She gave us more Gold than we have seen before.

Say, what shall we go and buy?"

"Cakes!" said greedy Emery.

"Flutes and bagpipes!" Johnny said.

"No," cried Martin; "knives instead!

Knives and swords! Then we can go Out to war and fight the foe."

"Sweet boys," said Auca.s.sin, as he rode up to them, "sing again the song that you were singing just now, I pray you."

"We will not," said Aubrey, who had a readier tongue than the others.

"Do you not know me, then?" said Auca.s.sin.

"Yes," said Aubrey. "You are our young lord, Auca.s.sin. But we are not your men, but the count's."

"Sweet boys, sing it again, I pray you," said Auca.s.sin.

"G.o.d's heart!" cried Aubrey. "Why should I sing for you, if I do not want to? There is no man in this country--save Count Garin--that dare drive my cattle from his fields and corn-lands, if I put them there. He would lose his eyes for it, no matter how rich he were. So, now, why should I sing for you, if I do not want to?"

"In the name of G.o.d," said Auca.s.sin, "take these ten sous, and sing it!"

"Sir, I will take your money," said Aubrey, "but I will not sing you anything. Still, if you like, I will tell you something."

"By G.o.d," said Auca.s.sin, "something is better than nothing!"

"Sir," said Aubrey, then, "we were eating our bread by this fountain, between prime and tierce, and a maid came by--the loveliest thing in all the world. She lighted up the forest with her beauty; so we thought she was a fairy woman. But she gave us some money; and we promised that if you came by we would tell you to go hunting in the forest. In there is a beast of marvellous value. If you took it you would not sell one of its limbs for many marks of gold, for it has a medicine that will cure your sickness. Now I have told you all."

"And you have told me enough, sweet boy," said Auca.s.sin. "Farewell! G.o.d give me good hunting!"

And, as he spurred his horse into the forest, Auca.s.sin sang right joyously:

Track of boar and slot of deer, Neither do I follow here.

Nicolette I hotly chase Down the winding, woodland ways-- Thy white body, thy blue eyes, Thy sweet smiles and low replies G.o.d in heaven give me grace, Once to meet thee face to face; Once to meet as we have met, Nicolette--oh, Nicolette!

_IV.--Love in the Forest_

Furiously did his horse bear him on through the thorns and briars that tore his clothes and scratched his body, so that you could have followed the track of his blood on the gra.s.s. But neither hurt nor pain did he feel, for he thought only of Nicolette. All day he sought for her in the forest, and when evening drew on, he began to weep because he had not found her. Night fell, but still he rode on; and he came at last to the place where the seven roads met, and there he saw the lodge of green boughs and lily-flowers which Nicolette had made.

"Ah, heaven," said Auca.s.sin, "here Nicolette has been, and she has made this lodge with her own fair hands! For the sweetness of it, and for love of her, I will sleep here to-night."

As he sat in the lodge, Auca.s.sin saw the evening star shining through a gap in the boughs, and he sang:

Star of eve! Oh, star of love, Gleaming in the sky above!

Nicolette, the bright of brow, Dwells with thee in heaven now.

G.o.d has set her in the skies To delight my longing eyes; And her clear and yellow hair Shines upon the darkness there.

Oh! my lady, would that I Swiftly up to thee could fly.

Meet thee, greet thee, kiss thee, fold thee To my aching heart, and hold thee.

Here, without thee, nothing worth Can I find upon the earth.

When Nicolette heard Auca.s.sin singing, she came into the bower, and threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. Auca.s.sin then set his sweet love upon his horse, and mounted behind her; and with all haste they rode out from the forest and came to the seash.o.r.e.

There Auca.s.sin saw a ship sailing upon the sea, and he beckoned to it; and the sailors took him and Nicolette on board, and they sailed to the land of Torelore. And the King of Torelore welcomed them courteously; and for two whole years they lived in great delight in his beautiful castle by the sea. But one night the castle was suddenly stormed by the Saracens; and Auca.s.sin was bound hand and foot and thrown into a ship, and Nicolette into another.

The ship that carried Auca.s.sin was wrecked in a great storm, and it drifted over the sea to Beaucaire. The people that ran to break up the wreck found their young lord, and made great joy over his return. For his father was dead, and he was now Count Auca.s.sin. The people led him to the castle, and did homage to him, and he held all his lands in peace. But little delight had Auca.s.sin in his wealth and power and kingdom.

Though he lived in joy and ease, And his kingdom was at peace, Auca.s.sin did so regret His sweet lady, Nicolette, That he would have liefer died In the battle by her side.

"Ah, my Nicolette," he said, "Are you living, are you dead?

All my kingdom I would give For the news that still you live.

For the joy of finding you Would I search the whole world through, Did I think you living yet, Nicolette--my Nicolette!"

_V.--Nicolette's Love Song_

In the meantime, the Saracens took Nicolette to their great city of Carthage; and because she was lovely and seemed of n.o.ble birth, they led her to their king. And when Nicolette saw the King of Carthage, she knew him again; and he, also, knew her. For she was his daughter who had been carried off in her young days by the Christians. Her father held a great feast in honour of Nicolette, and would have married her to a mighty king of Paynim. But Nicolette had no mind to marry anyone but Auca.s.sin, and she devised how she might get news of her lover. One night she smeared her face with a brown ointment, and dressed herself in minstrel's clothes, and took a viol, and stole out of her father's palace to the seash.o.r.e. There she found a ship that was bound for Provence, and she sailed in it to Beaucaire. She took her viol, and went playing through the town, and came to the castle. Auca.s.sin was sitting on the castle steps with his proud barons and brave knights around him, gazing sorrowfully at the sweet flowers, and listening to the singing of the birds.

"Shall I sing you a new song, sire?" said Nicolette.

"Yes, fair friend," said Auca.s.sin; "if it be a merry one, for I am very sad."

"If you like it," said Nicolette, "you will find it merry enough."

She drew the bow across her viol, and made sweet music, and then she sung:

Once a lover met a maid Wandering in a forest glade, Where she had a pretty house Framed with flowers and leafy boughs.

Maid and lover merrily Sailed away across the sea, To a castle by the strand Of a strange and pleasant land.

There they lived in great delight Till the Saracens by night Stormed the keep, and took the maid, With the captives of their raid.

Back to Carthage they returned, And the maiden sadly mourned.

But they did not make of her Paramour or prisoner.