"Aucassin, of that sickness of thine have I been sick, and good counsel will I give thee, if thou wilt hearken to me--""Sir," said Aucassin, "gramercy, good counsel would I fain hear.""Mount thy horse," quoth he, "and go take thy pastime in yonder forest, there wilt thou see the good flowers and grass, and hear the sweet birds sing. Perchance thou shalt hear some word, whereby thou shalt be the better.""Sir," quoth Aucassin, "gramercy, that will I do."He passed out of the hall, and went down the stairs, and came to the stable where his horse was. He let saddle and bridle him, and mounted, and rode forth from the castle, and wandered till he came to the forest, so rode till he came to the fountain and found the shepherds at point of noon. And they had a mantle stretched on the grass, and were eating bread, and making great joy.
Here one singeth:
There were gathered shepherds all, Martin, Esmeric, and Hal, Aubrey, Robin, great and small.
Saith the one, "Good fellows all, God keep Aucassin the fair, And the maid with yellow hair, Bright of brow and eyes of vair.
She that gave us gold to ware.
Cakes therewith to buy ye know, Goodly knives and sheaths also.
Flutes to play, and pipes to blow, May God him heal!"Here speak they, say they, tell they the Tale:
When Aucassin heard the shepherds, anon he bethought him of Nicolete, his sweet lady he loved so well, and he deemed that she had passed thereby; then set he spurs to his horse, and so came to the shepherds.
"Fair boys, God be with you."
"God bless you," quoth he that had more words to his tongue than the rest.
"Fair boys," quoth Aucassin, "say the song again that anon ye sang.""Say it we will not," quoth he that had more words to his tongue than the rest, "foul fall him who will sing it again for you, fair sir!""Fair boys," quoth Aucassin, "know ye me not?""Yea, we know well that you are Aucassin, out damoiseau, natheless we be not your men, but the Count's.""Fair boys, yet sing it again, I pray you.""Hearken! by the Holy Heart," quoth he, "wherefore should I sing for you, if it likes me not? Lo, there is no such rich man in this country, saving the body of Garin the Count, that dare drive forth my oxen, or my cows, or my sheep, if he finds them in his fields, or his corn, lest he lose his eyes for it, and wherefore should I sing for you, if it likes me not?""God be your aid, fair boys, sing it ye will, and take ye these ten sols I have here in a purse.""Sir, the money will we take, but never a note will I sing, for Ihave given my oath, but I will tell thee a plain tale, if thou wilt.""By God," saith Aucassin, "I love a plain tale better than naught.""Sir, we were in this place, a little time agone, between prime and tierce, and were eating our bread by this fountain, even as now we do, and a maid came past, the fairest thing in the world, whereby we deemed that she should be a fay, and all the wood shone round about her. Anon she gave us of that she had, whereby we made covenant with her, that if ye came hither we would bid you hunt in this forest, wherein is such a beast that, an ye might take him, ye would not give one limb of him for five hundred marks of silver, nor for no ransom; for this beast is so mighty of medicine, that, an ye could take him, ye should be healed of your torment, and within three days must ye take him, and if ye take him not then, never will ye look on him. So chase ye the beast, an ye will, or an ye will let be, for my promise have I kept with her.""Fair boys," quoth Aucassin, "ye have said enough. God grant me to find this quarry."Here one singeth.
Aucassin when he had heard, Sore within his heart was stirred, Left the shepherds on that word, Far into the forest spurred Rode into the wood; and fleet Fled his horse through paths of it, Three words spake he of his sweet, "Nicolete the fair, the dear, 'Tis for thee I follow here Track of boar, nor slot of deer, But thy sweet body and eyes so clear, All thy mirth and merry cheer, That my very heart have slain, So please God to me maintain I shall see my love again, Sweet sister, friend!"Then speak they, say they, tell they the Tale:
Aucassin fared through the forest from path to path after Nicolete, and his horse bare him furiously. Think ye not that the thorns him spared, nor the briars, nay, not so, but tare his raiment, that scarce a knot might be tied with the soundest part thereof, and the blood sprang from his arms, and flanks, and legs, in forty places, or thirty, so that behind the Childe men might follow on the track of his blood in the grass. But so much he went in thoughts of Nicolete, his lady sweet, that he felt no pain nor torment, and all the day hurled through the forest in this fashion nor heard no word of her. And when he saw Vespers draw nigh, he began to weep for that he found her not. All down an old road, and grassgrown he fared, when anon, looking along the way before him, he saw such an one as I shall tell you. Tall was he, and great of growth, laidly and marvellous to look upon: his head huge, and black as charcoal, and more than the breadth of a hand between his two eyes, and great cheeks, and a big nose and broad, big nostrils and ugly, and thick lips redder than a collop, and great teeth yellow and ugly, and he was shod with hosen and shoon of bull's hide, bound with cords of bark over the knee, and all about him a great cloak twy-fold, and he leaned on a grievous cudgel, and Aucassin came unto him, and was afraid when he beheld him.
"Fair brother, God aid thee."
"God bless you," quoth he.
"As God he helpeth thee, what makest thou here?""What is that to thee?"
"Nay, naught, naught," saith Aucassin, "I ask but out of courtesy.""But for whom weepest thou," quoth he, "and makest such heavy lament? Certes, were I as rich a man as thou, the whole world should not make me weep.""Ha! know ye me?" saith Aucassin.
