Lines 841–1260

"Yea," quoth the duke, "and wilt thou so?
Say, dost thou dare to combat go
And make thee quit and clear?"
"Yea, certes, Sire," he answered free,
"And here my glove I give to thee,
His falsehood shall appear."
The steward answered back forthright,
And quoth: "Thou traitor, perjured knight,
Thou art attainted here,
Why, I myself have seen to-day
How that she in thy chamber lay,
Yourselves ye cannot clear!"

As thus the steward he said his say;
And thus Sir Amis answered, "Nay,
The thing it was not so."
The duke bade bring that maiden fair,
The steward did aye the same declare,
And sware: "'T was as I show!"
The maiden wept, her hands she wrung,
And ever on her mother hung,
Vowing it was not so.
Then quoth the duke: "Now, without fail,
Here shall we see the truth prevail
By combat 'twixt the two."

So 'twixt the twain they set the fight
For that day past a fourteen-night
For many a man to see;
The steward was of mickle might,
In all the court there was no knight
Would Amis' surety be;
The steward was so strong, I trow,
That sureties might he find enow,
Twenty at least they be;
Then quoth they all, that till that tide
Sir Amis should in prison bide
Lest he from thence should flee.

With that she spake, the maiden bright,
And sware by Jesu, Lord of Might,
That this were mickle wrong:
"Take ye my body for the knight,
And till the day he come for fight,
Hold me in prison strong;
And if the knight should flee away,
Nor durst abide the chance that day
That doth to fight belong,
Then, as the law is, deal with me,
And doom my body drawn to be,
And high on gallows hung!"

Then, with bold words, her mother still
Said she would be of right good will
His surety also;
That he fail not to keep the day
But as good knight and true alway
Should fight against his foe.
And thus those ladies fair and bright
Their lives for Amis, gentle knight,
As surety would forego,
With that, the lordings every one
Said, other hostage would they none,
The thing should aye be so.

When this was done, as now I say,
And pledges ta'en without delay,
And thus they granted were,
Sir Amis sorrowed night and day
For all his joy was fled away
And come was all his care;
For that the steward was so strong,
And had the right, and he the wrong,
When he accused him there;
For his own life, he held it naught,
But of the maid was all his thought,
Such sorrow no man bare.

For that he knew he needs must swear,
Ere that he should to battle fare,
An oath, on that same morn,
Praying that God should be his speed,
As he was guiltless of the deed
That was against him borne.
And then he thought, with ne'er a lie,
Rather would he be hanged on high
Than thus to be foresworn;
And oft he did to Jesu pray
That He should save them both that day
Nor let them be forlorn!

So it befell upon a day
He met the lady, and that may,
Beneath an orchard side;
"Sir Amis," quoth the lady there,
"Why dost thou go so full of care?
Tell me the truth this tide;
Now dread thee naught," she spake forthright,
"Against thy foeman now to fight,
Whether thou go, or ride,
So well I'll arm thee, foot and head,
That thou of no man shalt have dread,
But battle well abide."

"Madam," then quoth that gentle knight,
"For love of Jesu, Lord of Might,
Take to my words good heed;
Mine is the wrong, and his the right,
For that I be afraid to fight,
So God give me good speed,
For I must swear, nor else may be,
So help me God to victory
As he in word and deed
Is false — Therewith am I foresworn,
And am of life and soul forlorn,
Thereto I find no rede."

Then quoth the lady presentlie,
"None other way then, may there be
To bring that traitor down?"
"Yea, Lady," quoth he, "by Saint Giles,
There dwelleth distant many miles,
My brother Amiloun;
And if to him I now dare go,
Then, by Saint John, full well I know,
He wears of truth the crown,
An his own life should forfeit be,
His help he now would give to me,
And smite my foeman down."

"Sir Amis," did the lady say,
"Take leave to-morrow with the day,
And journey speedily,
And I will say that thou art gone
To thine own land, since thou anon
Thy parents fain would see.
When to thy brother com'st aright,
Pray him, as he be faithful knight,
And of great courtesie,
That he will here defend the right,
For thee against the steward fight
Who thinks to ruin us three."

With morn Sir Amis busked him there,
And took his leave from thence to fare
And went upon his way,
For nothing would he slacken speed,
But, ruthless, forward spurred his steed.
Alike by night and day;
So fast he rode, and rested not,
The steed whereon he rode, I wot,
When far upon the way,
Was overpressed, and fell down dead, —
Sir Amis, brought in evil stead,
He cried, "Ah, wellaway!"

Then when the chance had fallen so
That he must needs on foot now go
Then, sorrowful, that knight,
He girt his skirts about him there,
And on his way began to fare
To hold what he had hight;
And all that day ran far and fast,
To a wild forest came at last,
Betwixt the day and night;
A slumber strong o'ercame him now,
Not for the whole world's wealth, I trow,
Further might fare that knight.

That courteous knight, so fair and free,
He laid him down beneath a tree,
And fell asleep that tide,
And all that night so still lay he,
Till on the morrow men might see
Daylight on every side.
And that knight's brother, Amiloun,
Whom all men held of great renown
Thro' all that country side,
Dwelt, from the spot where Amis lay,
But half the journey of a day
As men might walk or ride.

Sir Amiloun, that gentle knight,
In slumber soft he lay that night,
In dream it seemed him so,
That he Sir Amis needs must see
His brother troth-plight, verily,
Beset by many a foe;
For of a bear, both wild and wood,
And other beasts that with it stood
The onslaught must he know,
Alone, amidst them all he stood,
Nor found 'gainst them resistance good,
I trow, he was full woe!

Whenas Sir Amiloun did wake,
Great sorrow he began to make,
His wife, he told her there,
How black beasts, so in dream he thought,
With wrath, his brother Amis sought
To slay, with mickle care;
"Certes," he quoth, "some man with wrong
Hath brought him into peril strong,
Of bliss shall he be bare";
And then he quoth: "Forsooth, I wis,
I may know neither joy nor bliss
Till I wot how he fare!"

From bed he sprang up in that tide,
Nor longer would he there abide,
But dight him fair, anon, —
His mesnie, too, without delay,
Made ready for to ride straightway;
With him they fain had gone,
But that he bade them now to cease,
For love of Heaven to hold their peace,
Thus spake he to each one,
And sware by Him Who made Mankind
That no companion there he 'ld find,
But would go forth alone.

He robed him then in right rich weed,
And leapt astride upon his steed,
For naught would he abide;
His folk, he straight forbade them there
That none among them all should dare
After their lord to ride;
So thro' the night he rode till day,
And came to where Sir Amis lay
All in that forest wide;
He saw, thro' weariness foregone,
A knight, who, sleeping, lay alone
And sought to him that tide.

With that, he called on him straightway,
"Rise up, Sir Knight, for it is day
And time from hence to go!"
Sir Amis he beheld with sight,
Straightway he knew that gentle knight
And he knew him also;
That courteous knight, Sir Amiloun,
From off his steed did light adown.
With that, they kissed the two:
"Brother," he quoth, "why liest thou here?
And why dost make such mournful cheer?
Say, who hath wrought thee woe?"

"Brother," Sir Amis answered there,
"In sooth such sorrow knew I ne'er
Since me my mother bore;
Since thou didst from me go, I wis,
With joy, and eke with mickle bliss,
I served my lord before,
But now the steward, thro' sheer envy,
By guile, and eke by treachery,
Hath wrought me sorrow sore;
Save that thou help me in my need
Certes, I see none other rede,
My life must I give o'er!"

"Brother," Sir Amiloun he said,
"What hath the steward 'gainst thee laid?
Why thus hath done thee shame?"
"Certes, he doth by treason strive
From out mine office me to drive
And bring upon me blame," —
With that Sir Amis told him there
How that he, and that maiden fair,
In love together came,
And how the steward did them betray,
And how the duke, he would him slay
In anger, at that same.

And how himself he needs must plight
His troth against the steward to fight
In battle fierce and strong,
And how, to save those ladies bright,
As surety, he ne'er a knight
Might find, the court among;
How ere he did to battle fare
Needs must that he should falsely swear
Since he was in the wrong, —
"A man foresworn can never speed, —
Since I can find no better rede
'Alas!' may be my song!"

When thus Sir Amis told his tale
How the false steward should sure prevail
O'er him, with evil mood,
Sir Amiloun, with words so bold,
Sware: "By the Lord Whom Judas sold,
Who died upon the Rood,
Of this, his hope, he faileth now,
For I shall fight for thee, I trow,
Altho' he were well wood,
And if I meet him now aright,
With this, my brand, that is so bright
I'll shed his heart's best blood!

"But, Brother, this my weed take thou,
And in thy robes I'll clothe me now,
E'en as thyself I were,
And I shall swear, So God me speed,
That I am guiltless of the deed
And plaint he 'gainst me bare." —
With that, those courteous knights, anon,
Each other's raiment did they on;
When they were ready there,
Quoth Amiloun: "Now by Saint Gile,
Thus we the traitor shall beguile
Who would thy ruin prepare.

"Brother," he quoth, "go home forthright
Unto my wife, that lady bright,
And there with her remain;
And as thou art a gentle knight
Lie thou beside her every night
Until I come again;
Say, thou hast sent thy steed, I wis,
Unto thy brother Sir Amis,
Then will they be full fain,
They'll deem that thou my-self shalt be
For none shall know thee now from me,
So like we be, we twain."

And when he thus his word had plight
Sir Amiloun, that gentle knight,
He rode upon his way.
Sir Amis gat him home forthright
Unto his brother's lady bright
And made no more delay,
And said, how he had sent his steed
Unto his brother for his need
By a knight's hand that day.
And every man thought Sir Amis
To be their very lord, I wis,
So like, the twain, were they.

And when Sir Amis spake full fair
And told them now of all his care
Full well the thing did go,
For great or little, verily.
All men who there in court should be
They deemed it had been so.
When it was come unto the night
Sir Amis and that lady bright
To bed they fain would go;
When side by side the twain were laid
Sir Amis drew his shining blade
And laid it 'twixt the two.

The lady looked on him alway,
And wrathful gleamed her eyes of gray,
She deemed her lord were wood,
And, "Sir," she asked, "why dost thou so?
Thus wert thou never wont to do
Who now hath changed thy mood?"
"Lady," he answered, "verily
I be sick of a malady
That doth infect my blood,
And all my bones so sore they be
Thy flesh may not be touched by me
For all of this world's good!"

And thus, I wis, that faithful knight
He kept him for a fourteen-night,
As lord and prince in pride,
And he forgat not every night
Betwixt him and that lady bright
His sword to lay beside;
The lady deemed 't was rightly done
For that her lord, Sir Amilon,
He was sore sick that tide;
Therefore she thought to hold her still
And speak no word, but this, his will,
She would in peace abide.

Now Lordings, hear, and I shall say
How Amiloun, he went his way,
And would for nothing spare;
He spurred his steed by night and day
As hero stout and stiff alway
To court he swift doth fare;
The self-same day, withouten let,
That was afore for battle set
Sir Amis was not there,
They take those ladies by the hand,
The judgment now they needs must stand,
With tears and sighing sare.

The steward mounts his steed that tide,
With shield and spear would combat bide
He boasteth loud alway;
Before the duke he spurs his steed
And saith, "Now, Sire, as God me speed
Hearken to what I pray, —
This traitor, he hath fled the land,
And if he now were nigh at hand
He should be hanged to-day,
Therefore 't is meet that judgment turn
Against his sureties, that they burn
E'en as the law doth say."

That rich duke, moved by anger there,
He bade them take those ladies fair
And lead them forth beside,
A great fire then he bade them make,
Therewith should they a barrel take
To burn them there, inside;
Then, as they looked upon the field,
They saw a knight with spear and shield
Come pricking in his pride,
With that each one he cried, "I wis,
Yonder comes hastening Sir Amis —
They should his coming bide.

Sir Amiloun no stone doth heed,
But o'er them all he spurred with speed
The duke seeks hastily,
"My lord, the Duke," he saith, "for shame,
Set free these ladies at this same,
For good and true they be,
And hither am I come to-day
To save them both, if so I may,
From bond to set them free;
Certes, a mickle wrong it were
To make a roast of ladies fair,
'T were naught but crueltie!"

I trow it pleased those ladies well,
Their joy they might to no man tell
Their care was all away;
And sithen, as ye now may know,
The twain did to their chamber go
And made no more delay,
But richly did they arm that knight
With helm, and plate, and byrnie bright,
His tiring, it was gay;
When he was mounted on his steed
That God the knight should save and speed,
Full many a man did pray.

As he came riding from the town,
There came a voice from Heaven adown
That no man heard save he,
And saith: "Thou knight, Sir Amilon,
The God Who died the Rood upon
Doth message send by me;
An thou this combat fight withal
A venture strange shall thee befall
And that within years three,
For ere these three years they be gone
Leper so foul was never none
As thou thyself shalt be.