# The Chronicle of Clemendy/The Tale Told by the Seigneur of La Roche Nemours

THE QUAINT HISTORY OF A LORD OF GWENT AND HOW HIS WIFE DESIRED TO SMELL A ROSE
ROGER DE SCO. MAURO was seised of his castle of Penhow when he was about twenty-five years of age, and was thought a fortunate young knight, since the estates of the St. Maurs were just now beginning to be in a very fat and prosperous condition, and to draw some blood out of the country. This was partly owing to a little agreement of three parts between Gilbert Marshall Seigneur of Estrighoil, Sir William de Sco. Mauro, and Morgan Howell, Seigneur of Caerleon; and the event of this agreement was that this Morgan Howell, aforesaid, was gently eased and relieved of his Manor of Woundy in Gwent Level; the which for the future did appertain to the noble house of St. Maur, who do not appear to have left their wits behind in Normandy. And with the manor went many a pleasant fish-pool, and mills and quit-rents and estovers, and a good slice by way of house-bote and hay-bote out of Wentwood Chase, as the old records of the Jury will tell you. With this, and a few small easements in addition, the walls of Penhow grew warm and comfortable, and when the place came to Roger, and the Steward had given him an ​account of his possessions, he determined to lose no time but to enjoy himself with all speed. So he called together a goodly flock of his boon companions who were many, and now increased every day, and bade them to Penhow that they might try his cellars, test the merits of the manorial preserves, and receive joy-bote and jest-bote from their entertainment. This summons, it will be supposed, met with few nays, and before long the manor-house overflowed with gay surcoats, who ate, drank, hunted, tilted, made love, and played ball with laudable hardiness; indeed between one thing and another, they gave themselves but little time for sleeping. Among these laborious persons were Sir Rogo de Knovill, Sir Dru de Dynam, Sir Philip de Bendeville, Sir William Denford de Crick, and many another stalwart lusty man, who was rather more important a few hundred years ago than now, the which must be my excuse for not giving you a roll of them all like the old blind clerk of Scio, or the glorious Virgilius; since they doubtless took time over their catalogues and trimmed and garnished them with choice adornments so that they are not tedious but smack smoothly in the mouth. But you may conceive if you can the trampling of the horses of this company as they rode up to Penhow, the glittering of the steel, the blaze of coat armour, and the fine clatter of old French, scraps of love-songs of Provence, or merry ballads from Paris town, and every now and then a rather strong expression by way of comma. I leave the gentlemen and pass to the ladies, who come ​last, like the canons in a procession; for one should always keep the best for last, and these ladies were assuredly creatures of rarity and art, diamonds of clear water. I know not precisely where they all came from, but they were finely dressed and well proportioned and seemed always cheerful and ready for a joke, in fact there is little doubt that Roger's feminine guests were exceedingly nice girls, though some severe persons have chid him for keeping bad company. I do not exactly understand what this phrase means, for no company is bad for a wise man; and I think the people who talk in this way cannot have heard tell of Socrates, the king of wisdom, who no sooner was advised of the advent of Madam Theodota, a notorious strumpet, to the dearly-beloved city of Cecrops than he cried out "by the dog" and (as if he had been bitten by a mad one) posted off to this pretty piece in a tremendous hurry. And you remember how he found a painter pleasantly employed in setting her on canvas, and how these two, the beautiful witty strumpet and the old goggle-eyed flat-nosed quintessencer, talked together, for you have without doubt read the Pellakis ethaumasa. And the moral of this is that Socrates knew what he was about, for he was a very great extractor of fifth essence, and that all of us, who are as logs compared to him, must touch our caps and not venture to contradict a word he said. And how anybody could call the Fair Ladies of Penhow, as this gay sisterhood was termed during their reign, bad company, is beyond my conceit; for I do assure you they had ​the most joyous dancing eyes,—blue, brown, grey, and black,—the sweetest little lips, soft sanguine cushions whereon the bare Lord of Love held Assize sempiternal, ever issuing blithe decrees, enunciating arrests, forging endless golden chains with sharp hooks to fasten hearts together, and engaging in his daintiest workmanship of kisses, to the which wares he imparts a perpetual variety, an unfailing sweetness, joys continual and ecstasies that are never wearisome. Shall we not therefore honour and reverence the place which gives us all these nice things; and is it right to talk of "bad company" in connection with such delicious dainties? But Loyse, Isobelle, and Erminie and Rosamonde served up all this fare in perfection, and pleased the gentlemen exceedingly, for they were not like some ignorant awkward girls that we have nowadays to whom a man is obliged to teach everything, owing to the horrible deficiencies in their education. But these damsels kept the knights amused, roused them up, and prevented them from being dull, if it rained; contrived all manner of jokes, sang love-ballads, played on the lute, and were all over the house, and putting their lovers through their paces. All this was fine sport for Sir Roger and his guests; but it must be confessed that it came rather expensive, since Penhow got such a name, that as soon as one knight had gone out at the gatehouse with his suite of steel-clad, bottle-nosed, and ever-droughty followers, two more came in, very hot and thirsty and ready for anything that was to be had. The ladies too could not live on air ​and love, poor dears, and their sweet little bodies and smooth dainty skins had to be filled with sweetmeats and choice wines; and besides these they had several small necessities without which ladies cannot get on, but which cost a good deal of money when one has to pay the shot for a dozen or more. Whence it came about that after a few months of this fine fun it became expedient that Sir Roger de Sco. Mauro should try to draw his purse strings in very tight, and send his merry guests about their business if he did not want them to run away with his woods and meadows, his commons, estovers, housebotes and heybotes, mills, fishpools, and everything that he had. But yet he was very loathe to do this, and had long conversation with Master Robert Pykott his steward, Father Hadrian his chaplain, and Dom. Hierome Jessaye, a man of law, who was full of expedients, and had assisted at synods like these many times before. And so it came to pass that Sir Roger was forced often to leave all the mirth, laughter, and mellow sounding of the lutes, vyalls, and hand-organs, the fantastic quips of gallantry and the beautiful theories of the wondrous clerk of the Academy, the tales of chivalry and love, and the swift ball play against the high wall at the angle where it joins the tower; to meet the three sages who were all of them a little musty, and whose talk was dull. Inside a room of the tower they sat, with chests and hanapers and coffers all around them, and before the steward and the man-of-law were great vessels of ink, and long vicious-looking goose​quills that made ugly marks against everything and wrote down unpleasant items. And the business was to inspect, peer into, tote up, balance, and certify, charters, copyhold-rolls, receipts, grants, manor-lists; and to set these against sundry bills of debts that filled a capacious chest and seemed likely to lift the lid off their receptacle, to say nothing of lifting the lead off Penhow, the cattle off the meadows, and the fish out of the pool, if some order were not taken with them. Against these hideous bills the manor-rolls showed very poorly, though they were famously written and engrossed on great skins of parchment, and as Master Hierome Jessaye declared, had been executed by an Italian clerk as beautifully and artificially as any he had ever seen. But as the man-of-law was pleased also to remark fair flourishes fill not full flagons, nor gold frets an abounding chest, and sometimes 'tis better to have a single live sheep than a dozen sheepskins; and the next time Master Hierome came to Penhow after making these facetious observations, he brought a little horn of red ink with him with which he wrote down terrible things that seemed to promise abundance of dry bread and as much cold water as it liked you for Penhow; and Roger began to recollect that there was no well in the castle and all the water had to be fetched in a bouget from the fountain down below, for hitherto he had looked upon his cellar and his ale-tubs as the only fountains with which he was concerned. Meanwhile Master Pykott was hard at work with a lot of little sticks notched all over with lines and ​figures, but the tallies had no more comfort in them than the rolls since the bills of debt were too strong for anything. In the midst of all this ink, parchment, and law-latin, Roger grew very sad, for he was not a good clerk, and did not like to see how fast Master Hierome's enormous quill leapt and flickered over the parchment, as if it were a bird of ravine; and it seemed to him that a man who wrote so quickly could not be good for any respectable family, in the which conjecture he may not have been far from the truth. And though the chaplain tried to ease his heart with comfortable and pious allusions to a fiery furnace, he got to feel quite down in the mouth, especially when a long bright ray of sunlight shot through the lattice and lighted on the municipal and forensic nose of Master Hierome Jessaye, showing a few flaws and patches of faulty colour on this grand member, for one cannot expect to be good all round, and the carnations of the man-at-law, were, it must be confessed, miserably blotched. Then Sir Roger would fall to making comparisons (impertinent as I conceive) between this nose and other noses he knew something about, especially the nose of dark eyed Maud, with whom he was said to be on very friendly terms. And by some Cervical Capitulary or Notional Law, the nature of which you will find fully explained in Aristotle, Alexander Aphrodisiensis, Plotinus and other learned clerks, nose led him to eyes, eyes to cheeks, cheeks to lips, and so on, and so on; till he was deep in the consideration of privileges, quit-rents, and tolls entirely different from those ​noted in his muniments, How this came about I cannot exactly tell you, nor am I entirely certain as to whether all the doctors I have mentioned agree in their definitions and explanations; I thought the matter out some years ago but I confess that at present my head is slightly muddled on the subject. But I have reason to think that this Law of the Brain is made expressly on behalf of hapless lovers, so that whether they see a squirrel eating nuts on a bough, a girl carrying clothes from the wash, or a man with a brown doublet, it is all one to them and in about a minute and a half they are muttering to themselves "O my darling, my love, my dear, dear sweetheart, let me kiss thee, let me fondle thee, let me embrace thee but once again," or some nonsense of this description. And then they begin to recollect and run over everything, and their hearts seem to melt away and their throats get husky. So merely a sunbeam on a lawyer's nose sent Sir Roger off to a land of pretty fancies, and while he was thus a-maze, the sound of a rich mellow voice mounted up and came in like the ray of sunlight through the lattice, and with it tender lute-notes that tickled the heart, and bred love in excess. And this is what Sir Roger heard above the scraping and squeaking of Master Hierome's quill, in the muniment room of the tower of Penhow:
All through the nightertale I longed for thee, In loneliness, and hearkened for the door To open, or a footstep on the floor.
​O lief sweetheart, I pray thee pity me, I hunger for thy kisses evermore; All through the nightertale I longed for thee.
Joyesse is turned to wo, and misery Is my solace, certes, my heart is sore. Yet these poor lips a smile at morning bore, Though all the nightertale I longed for thee.
And then a slowly dying close on the lute, that seemed to tremble and thrill with love like the "yes" that comes at last, and to beat against the lattice like a bird against the bars of its cage. And seeing that Madam Maud was the chorister, you will not wonder that Sir Roger's head got between his hands, since this pretty girl was expensive in her habits and had cost him a lot of money, and he was so unfortunate as to be dreadfully fond of her; indeed her reproachful song was far from being deserved by her lover. But he knew that she was too great a luxury for a poor man, and it troubled him exceedingly to think with what inferior wares he would be forced to put up for the future. But his meditations were cut short by Master Hierome giving his final judgment that all these frolics must come to an end without delay, and that Sir Roger de Sco. Mauro would have to be content for a good many years to come with a rather retired and secluded manner of living. And the steward and the chaplain were obliged to confirm this ​decree, because they saw there was nothing else to be done; so the man-of-law took a new pen and began to make his arrangements for the payment of that monstrous pile of debts, and Roger had to look on. And in a week's time all the pleasant company had gone from Penhow to search for the four winds, and Sir Roger was left to himself and had plenty of time to consider affairs in general, and his lack of everything that was pleasant and desirable, in particular; and it was at this cheerful season that a white hair or two began to hang about his ears, and his smooth young forehead began to show faint lines here and there. And finding his lonely life quite intolerable after the gay racket of the past, he determined to get out his best suit of armour, grind a keener edge to his sword, sharpen his lance-head to as fine a point as a lady's little finger-tip, and see if he could not pick up a living by breaking heads and bounteous bloodletting. The which was, it must be agreed, a resolution worthy of a brave man, the descendant of an ancient house, and moreover a very salutary one, for anybody who understands mankind, knows that the blood of most people is far too hot and superabundant, hence he who makes it his business in one way or another to cool our passions and make us more reasonable and less violent, is evidently a great benefactor and philanthropist. But misfortune was already beginning to improve Sir Roger, and it made him come to this laudable determination of leaving his castle in Gwent Level, and going over sea to ameliorate the condition of mankind and ​his own purse at the same time. And before he had been seised of Penhow for a year and a day he was on shipboard, having with him as esquire a young fellow from his Manor of Woundy, whom he had noticed to be sharp witted and handy in many ways, and not addicted to asking questions when his lord told him to do anything. This esquire's name was Gilbert Tapp, and though young, he was grim and stern-set of feature, and slow to take a joke; for this was the nature he had received from his father and mother, who were by no means pleasant people. Thus the Knight and Esquire made their way by land and sea to Germany, and some say they remained there for more than twenty years in the service of divers great nobles, now fighting for one and now for another, since so long as the pay was good and there was plenty of employment neither Sir Roger nor Gilbert cared a rap for whom they warrayed. Some say that they went to the peninsula of Italy as well, and assisted to conclude the various disagreements between the cities, duchies, principalities and kingdoms by vigorous applications of the Gwentian sword, spear, and battle axe; and that they were at the stricken field of La Grandella and in many other affairs of the same kind in connection with those troublesome two Sicilies. It is likewise recorded by one or two annalists that Sir Roger served Baldwin, second of that name, Emperor of Constantinople, and had to get out of the way very quickly on the night of July the twenty-fifth, when Alexius Strategopoulos climbed over the wall and cleared ​out the Latins. But all agree that the Knight of Penhow carried the golden wings over battlements and breaches, through blood and fire and steel-hedges, most knightly and gloriously; and Gilbert Tapp followed close at his heels so that when Sir Roger poked a man in the ribs with his spear, the Esquire hit him hard over the head with his sword, and relieved him of any troubles that he might be destined to have in this mortal life. In this fashion they made themselves useful to their employers and got together many gold pieces, but the work was very hard and grew in time to be wearisome. For there are only a certain number of ways in which a man may be killed, and when you have gone through all these and begun again at the beginning, and are still drudging at the same mill, you begin to long for something fresh and cannot run your enemy through the breast or cleave him to the spine with any true art or relish for the business. Besides this constant warfare is like old Time and leaves certain indelible memorials in the way of scars, seams, holes, hacks, unhealed wounds, and tender places, for people will not be killed if they can help it and when hard pressed are apt to cut out their epitaphs on a hostile surface of flesh. And by the time Sir Roger had acquired a broad blue seam from his forehead to his jawbone, another across his left cheek, had lost one ear, and had gained a nasty wound in the side (Gilbert being rather worse off, for he was more obstinate) he began to consider that he had about enough of these memorial inscriptions written on him and ​that it would be a good thing to leave fighting to younger men for the future and rest his bones again in Gwent. And he felt that he might do this very comfortably, for besides a good round sum in money, he had some five or six chests full of brooches, rings, chains, and bracelets fashioned of the precious metals and for the most part of gold, together with a few emeralds, sapphires, rubies, diamonds and such like gauds, which he had picked up in the course of his busy life, for he was fond of curiosities of this kind and would say jokingly that no collector had such opportunities as a free-lance. I believe indeed that Sir Roger had enjoyed his little pleasures as well as worked hard during this stormy period of war and battle; and it seems credible that he had forgotten Madam Maud a good many years ago having in his time seen a great variety of ladies, grave and gay, hot and cold, moist and dry, black, brown, and tawny-yellow. Altogether he felt that it was high time to take things more quietly and to hang up the red banner with the golden wings in the hall at Penhow. And when he got home and began to examine into his accounts he found that all the old debts were paid, excepted only an item due to Master Hierome Jessaye, who had kept the manors warm, or as some said, had been kept warm by them. And since from an accurate observation and adding up it appeared that the man-at-law had already made a tolerable swarf-penny out of his stewardship, Sir Roger refused in a very decided kind of voice to pay him another farthing; and as his moustachios ​began to bristle like a hog's back and the scars of him to turn a fiery purple, Master Hierome was generous and forgave him his debt. This is what it is to deal with an upright honest lawyer; but some of them rob and pill their clients without mercy. And from that time Sir Roger led a very happy and respectable life at Penhow, amusing himself with keeping the people round about in order, looking after his privileges, and building a bit to the castle here and there, and maintaining open house and a hospitable table for all comers, but especially folk from over sea, for he liked to talk over old times and to hear how things were going on in the castles he had burnt, the towns he had stormed, and the families whose numbers he had reduced. To Gilbert Tapp he had given the captainship over the garrison, for it was necessary to be on the safe side and not to tempt one's neighbours to ransack one's money chest; a very sinful habit but a common one in those days and accompanied by such annotations as throat-cutting and general destruction and deviltry, so that the gloss was worse than the text. On this account a strong body of men-at-arms was maintained at Penhow, and the old battered and scored esquire took good care that they were well up to the mark and perfect in their exercises. In this sort Sir Roger lived till he was getting on in life and had seen the sun set on his grand climacteric; but as he was riding one day through the village it chanced that he met an old woman trotting along as fast as her legs would carry her. "Whither go you so fast, mother?" ​said Sir Roger. "If it please you to the wife of John-ap-Griffith," answered she. "And what would you do with her?" asked the Knight, for he felt curious, he knew not why. "Why I would be with her in her labour and ease her of her first child," answered the old woman, and this reply set Sir Roger a-thinking, though as I have said he was no great clerk. But it seemed very plain to him that if he waited much longer before begetting a lawful heir of his body the business was likely to fall through and the castle and manors would pass to his cousin, whose conversation he did not much relish. Wherefore he determined to set this matter in train as soon as might be, and to cast his eyes round the castles of Gwent for a pretty modest maiden to be his wife and to bear him (if God willed) a son, who should succeed him. On this behalf he consulted Gilbert, but not to any great purpose, forasmuch as the esquire was not addicted to the company of ladies, and even in his youth had had as little to do with them as he was able, and "I suppose we can't very well do without them" was the best word he had ever said of women-folk. But Sir Roger looked about him and took stock of all the noble marriageable maidens in Gwent, and found out as far as he could their virtues and defects, for he was determined that his wife should be somewhere near perfection (that is so near as a woman can be expected to attain) and it would have grieved him to have thrown himself and all his experience away on a girl that was at all flighty or misdemeanant in her habits. And as he had still that ​old weakness of his for black eyes and a well moulded breast; he had a good deal of trouble, for beauty and sense are not often met with in the same skin. But at last, when he was beginning to grow desperate, he saw one day at the Castle of Estrighoil a pair of eyes that pierced to his heart in the old delicious way, and on enquiry he found that the young lady to whom they belonged was called Eva de St. Pol and was of French parentage but had been an orphan for many years. And hearing from all hands sunset accounts of her, her beauty and her virtues, and being himself altogether in love with her innocent beseeching face, exquisite curves, and gracious ways, he in due form craved her hand of the Lord of Estrighoil who was her guardian and had authority over her. And as Sir Roger was known to have lined his coat pretty warmly with gold besants and was besides a very gentle and perfect knight who had maintained the honour of the Marches full valorously in the lands beyond sea, my lord and lady of Estrighoil considered him a good match for Eva who was poor and hardly had a carucate of land that she could call her own. As for the maid she made no difficulty over the business (not that it would have gone for much if she had) since she was sharp enough to find out that the old knight was deeply dyed with love for her, and hence Madam Eva foresaw that she would get her own way with him and rule Joyously at Penhow. Of course she had one or two scruples over her betrothal, and could not help thinking rather sadly of the pretty speeches a ​young gentleman named Rupert de Launay had whispered in her ear; nay of certain occasions when he had misjudged his distance and put his mouth rather lower down; but perhaps Rupert knew something about the inwards of the ear and wished to communicate his intelligence by way of those pipes at the back of the gullet. But all these little talks had taken place the summer before, after evensong, in the alleys of the Rose Garden, and Rupert was far away, in strange countries; so it was no good speculating about him or his nice manners. Therefore in due course of time Eva de St. Pol was wed to Roger de St. Maur by my lord of Llandaff, who was observed to glance at the bridegroom rather doubtfully while he sang certain prayers as if he thought he was wasting his breath. Nevertheless the old and the young were securely tied together and Eva pledged her troth to Sir Roger to be bonour and buxom in bed and at board, and there was feasting and high holiday in the hall of Estrighoil. So the knight took home his wife, who soon began to make the castle more lively than it had ever been since Madam Maud ruled the roast, for a girl of seventeen years will chase dullness out of most places with trills of laughter and song, bright eyes, gay gowns, and all those pleasant varieties, modes, and manners which do entrance us ever. And with the young wife comes a joyous procession of keen pages and artful chambermaids, who are versed in all sorts of tricks and waggeries, and run up and down the stairs and galleries, hide in the big aumbries, and are always inventing some ​fresh mystery, though the fable is always much the same. Well-nigh the first thing that Eva did was to ransack her husband's jewell caskets, trying on all the necklaces and brooches, and fitting her little white fingers with the finest rings she could discover, while her good man looked on, and at last pulled her on his knee and stroked her beautiful brown hair and kissed her, for he loved her better every day. And nine months after the wedding Eva gave her lord a sturdy son, who would doubtless have been like his father if he had happened to be seventy years old instead of an hour, and to have a bristling white moustache and shaggy eyebrows. It will be supposed that Sir Roger loved his wife none the worse after all his hopes were thus fulfilled, nevertheless his love was henceforth Platonicall; for he was not so strong as when he came to his estates, and had knocked about a good deal in his time. But though he was quite satisfied with one heir, Eva thought very differently on the matter, as was to be expected of a girl of eighteen, and kept exhorting her husband to the intent that it was advisable to provide Penhow with another branch, in case the first were by some misadventure to fail. And finding her admonitions, soft speeches, kisses, caresses and blandishments had no effect, only making Sir Roger look sheepish and ashamed of himself, she rang this peal in his ears all day and night, and endeavoured by every method to bring him to a sense of his duties towards her. But it was to no purpose, since the old knight could kiss her and stroke her and fondle her but nothing ​more, though he made himself rather ill by drinking the vile concoctions flavoured and spiced by a doctor of medicine, who had won a high repute by his treatment of these cases. It is to be feared however (by the leave of the Fratres Fraternitatis R. C.) that no beverages, though they be sopho-spagirically concocted can make a young man out of an old one; certainly they did Sir Roger more harm than good and made him say ill-natured things of the physician and smash his vials. Hence poor Eva became very melancholy for want of love, and hushed her joyous singing and laughter, and spoke seldom and in a plaintive voice to the distress of her husband, who was happy in all else and especially in his son who grew every day to be a fine specimen of the stout old stock of St. Maur. And the pages looked at Eva slyly, as if they knew what ailed her, and with her women she often wept over her fate, as they worked at the tapestry; but it seemed as if there was no help for it, since Sir Roger was not likely to grow more vigorous as he got older. It is not to be wondered at then that Eva became fantastic in her habits, and thought strange sick thoughts within herself; on Monday she would be racing all over the house and making everybody stare at her frolics, and on Tuesday she sat in the same place from Prime to Evensong, spoke not a word, and ate nothing. On Wednesday she would hardly leave the Lady Chapel of the church, but on Thursday her romping mood returned again; so that in one way or another she did her best to torment her husband and her companions out of ​their lives, for no one ever knew what would happen next. But one day it fell out that as Sir Roger and his lady sat at meat, a stranger came into the hall, for the knight still continued to welcome travellers and to listen to their tales and adventures. This man was clothed in a habit of brown and yellow with long hanging sleeves and there was a gold bracelet of curious workmanship on the wrist of his right arm; his face was quaint and his eyes most keen and piercing. And while he spoke all kept silence and held the morsel they were to eat in their fingers, waiting for his words; because he told them of wonders in a deep sweet voice that seemed to come from far away; and none had ever heard stories like these told of the man in brown and yellow. For all his talk was of the High Levant, and the Isles of India, and the great marvels and miracles that are done in those parts, and the curious arts that are understood there, such as necromancy, geomancy, pyromancy and the like, and how there are islands and cities in the which dwell no living man, but multitudes of spirits and ghostly people, who now and again come among men and take mortal women to wife. And while he recounted these strange histories his face never changed a whit, but his voice rose and fell and thrilled like the organs when they are played skilfully, and it sank deep into the hearts of all who were at the board. But Eva was more enchanted than the rest by the odd deviser, and would have him come to her bower after dinner, that she might still listen to him, for his voice stirred up old memories in her heart and made ​her think of the alleys of Estrighoil Castle and likewise of Rupert de Launay, though for the like of her she could not discover why it was so. And being seated on a stool, the stranger began his incantations anew, and talked more and more wildly and fantastically, till Eva and her women thought the walls were turning round and the floor heaving, and took hold of each others hands and squeezed them hard as though they had been a bevy of lovers. And this is how the brown and yellow man brought his histories to a close. "Now," said he, "'tis almost time for me to be gone since I must sup tonight with the Lord of the Castle of Rohalgo; but one more relation I will devise for you. Know that in the realm of the Great Chan there is an exceeding vast desert, to cross the which you shall journey five years, if you have good camels and skilled guides who lead you by the shortest way. But 'tis more like that you take ten years, and few care to travel through this wilderness, preferring to journey along the border of it, by a track where there is victual and provender for them and their beasts. And some say that there are no wells nor fountains, nor trees, nor any green thing nor living creatures throughout the whole length and breadth of this desert; but this is not the truth, for I talked with a wise man of Cathay who used geomancy, and he showed me the nature of the place, and gave me such reasons that I perceived he was not lying nor deceiving me. Know then that toward the midst of the wilderness there is a great circle of sand that never is still, but heaves up and down in waves and breakers like ​the waves of Ocean, and this compass of sandy sea is about ten miles in breadth, so that none can pass through it save by a miracle and art magik. For so quick is it that it sucks in and draws down whatever is cast into it and in a moment of time, since it is full of whirlpools. But if any man could reach the other side, he would see a country as fair and fruitful as any in the world, with meadows, woods, running brooks, orchards all most green and pleasant to the sight. And on the hills are castles, fairer and stronger than any in Christendom, with towers and pinnacles that cannot be conceived, insomuch as the images adorning them are ten times the height of a man, and from the ground seem to be puppets; and the sound of the bells chiming in the high belfries is heard of still evenings in Ermony and India from a distance of many thousand leagues. And they who live in that country are men descended from the giants that in old time dwelt upon the earth, and they have many arts and mysteries of which we can understand nothing, and to strive after this secret knowledge is great sin in common men. But one marvel they have that they sometimes impart to us; for they know of our affairs and have intelligence of things which are done by us in privity, and sometimes will grant boons to them that are deserving of the same. Understand then that there grows in this land a manner of tree, with a blossom somewhat like a rose, for it is red in colour, but in each flower there are twelve leaves, and it is fairer to see than any rose, because the hue of it is not fixed nor ​always the same, but seems like fire all glowing and palpitating, so that it is a very glorious sight. And whosoever smells the scent of one of these flowers forgets all the bitter memories and sorrows of his past life, grieveth no more for present woe, nor is able to be touched by any ill fortune that may come; since from the eyes of him that smelleth the thick veil falleth away, and he beholdeth the wondrous beauty of the things which verily are; and his ears are opened and the everlasting musick soundeth in them, so that in a moment of time his old life becomes like a dream a man dreamt when he was a boy, and remembers faintly all his days. And the sweet imaginations which come now and again into the minds of all of us, dimly and staying but an instant, by the scent of the rose blossom gloriously like unto it, and abide for evermore; and in the brain of him that has smelt this bloom of færy an old rhyme still runs—
We have a quiet place wherein to dwell. A quiet place wherein to hear the swell Break with a hollow roar upon the land And rattle of the pebbles on the strand And rain come pattering on the closed door But we shall rest for evermore.
And, as he finished the rhyme, the stranger rose upon his feet and looked Eva de St. Maur through and through for a moment, then he did reverence and went forth, and they ​never saw his face again; though some pretended to see the brown and yellow robe moving swiftly along the passages of the Castle of hot summer nights, for many a year after; but these clever personages are suspected to have had the sun still in their eyes or to have seen double. But when the stranger had left the bower Eva and her ladies all sat quiet still and close together, for their hearts were beating swiftly and their breasts heaving violently, and their breath came quick and short; while the blood ran a furious course through their veins even as the knights make their onset of battle. And it ⟨is⟩ well known that all these symptoms are bad ones, prognostic of mischief, especially if ladies are thus affected, since they are a little apt to let their imagination get the better of them, and to kick poor old Master Logick in his tattered gown and rusty cassock out of doors. And who comes in when Genus and Species go out? Why the most puissant prince and paramount Lord Phantasy, all gallantly bedecked in gold and green, bringing with him a host of mad whimsies, who are his great officers of state; and his Lord Marshall is none but Love. And to be plain these giddy girls made wild work that night, and for some nights after, and stored up trouble for themselves which made them wish they had never heard the stranger's voice, for they all agreed that it was this, rather than the matter of his stories, which turned their heads and made them forgetful when they ought to have remembered. But in Eva's brain the relation of the Rose took root, and grew day by day, till she forgot or ​seemed to forget her old trouble in this new one, for now her one desire was to smell the wondrous blossoms, and she longed for the scent continually and was always saying to herself "Oh, if I could but smell the flower!" Sir Roger, who as I have shown, had seen a good deal of the world in his time, had heard many strange stories, and talked with many strange people, endeavoured to laugh this notion out of his wife's head; for as he told her he had lived long enough to find out that all soils produced an abundant crop of lies, but especially the soil of the Levant, where fictions attained to a monstrous height and luxuriance. As for the man in brown and yellow he cursed him and denounced him for the most malicious and damnable liar that this world had ever generated, and swore by Corpus Domini, St. Michael the Archangel, the candid host of martyrs, and all the whole company of saints that if he ever came within the lordship again, he should go hot-foot to his father, the devil, and tell his tales to the fiends of hell. This was, it must be confessed, rather violent language, but Sir Roger was in fact a little angry with the man for turning Penhow upside down, making the girls giddier than they were before, and crazing Eva by his nonsensical tales which nobody in his wits credited, though the knight confessed that they were amusing enough to listen to. And if the traveller had returned it is probable that Gilbert Tapp would have treated him roughly and played him some scurvy tricks; but he knew better, and those who saw his vestment were never able to catch him up for he walked too ​fast. Meanwhile Eva still pined after the rose, thinking of it during the day, and dreaming hot dreams of it at night, and still, sleeping or waking her words were "Oh, if I could but smell the flower."
But who do you think was seen at Penhow one fine morning in May, when the shade began to be more pleasant than the sun, and the young beech-leaves shone like silver? Why none but the old lover Rupert de Launay, who had returned from over sea no richer than when he left Estrighoil, for he had not Sir Roger's wit, but was stuffed with all sorts of rubbish about glory and gentle deeds, and a fair fame; so you may be sure he found that most people took him at his word, and let him fight for these fine entities and abstractions without troubling such a mirror of chivalry with more salt than would keep his lance in rest and his arm strong. By some means he tickled Sir Roger in the right spot and obtained free quarters and a hearty welcome at Penhow, where he took the pages under his care and taught them the science of arms, and all manner of knightly courtesies, philosophies, and refinements, such as they would never have learned from Gilbert, who looked very grim when he heard the things that began to be spoken of at dinner and in the evening, for these niceties did not enter into his system of chivalry, which dealt less with theory than practice. As for Sir Roger he leant back in his high elbow-chair and laughed at all the high-flown nonsense and romantic methods with which Rupert seasoned his discourse; and as he laughed he asked himself ​"where should I have been now, if I had warrayed for the love of glory?" and then he shook his head and looked wise and winked at Gilbert Tapp. But Eva paid little or no heed to Rupert or his talk, and tho' she would speak to him kindly enough it was plain that she had quite forgotten the sweet susurrations of the garden of Estrighoil, or if she remembered them it was with no particular desire to renew an ancient amity. And Rupert on his side was either with the sprouting chivalry, or hunting in Wentwood Chase, or talking to the old knight, to whom he did great reverence, as to a right worshipful and valiant warrior (and indeed Sir Roger had been all this in his day) and listened to his tales of fights, sieges, and stormings of strong places. And in appearance Rupert de Launay was as proper and personable a man as the chivalry of Christendom could show, standing six feet high, and well proportioned in his limbs, and being somewhat thin of face, though very handsome with a clear olive skin and deep blue eyes. And when he wore the surcoat given to him by the Emperor, which had his bearings exquisitely worked thereon—or, three ravens sable party per pale a palise gules and or—he looked a very fine specimen of a knight and seemed to have stepped out of the great book of romances from which he was used to read aloud on wet days and at candle-time. Hence you will not wonder that the girls grew soft hearted over this fine gentleman, for they love strength, valour, and gallant manhood and also high-flown romantic fantasy; so that when these qualities cohere ​in the same substance they are by nature strongly drawn and attracted to it. But Rupert de Launay seems not to have troubled himself greatly to encourage their fancies; for he was flying at more noble game, and studying the ground before he sat down and besieged the place in form. And it appears that he took the trouble to make himself thoroughly acquainted with the Chronicles of Penhow, so far as they related to my lady Eva, thus the keen pages told him all about her melancholy because she might not have another child, and also of the visit of the man in brown and yellow, and of her longing to smell the wonderful twelve-petaled rose that grew in the great wilderness. And when Rupert had found out these facts, and pondered them over in his mind, it is likely that he put them together and found links where nobody else had seen any, for he is acknowledged to have been very artful in the conduct of this affair, and to have shown great strategy and opiniastrety therein. For you must understand that all the while he was oversea he had cherished and cockered up his love for Eva St. Pol, keeping her portraiture before him when the trumpets sounded, and the steel began to ring; never telling his nearest friend a word about her, but burning his lamp of love in secrecy till the flame of it made the heart of him white hot and scorched his brain. And when at last he returned to Gwent and found his mistress the wife of old Sir Roger, he would doubtless have done well to look out for another sweetheart, but he rather added oil to the flame and determined to win her ​by one means or another. And after he had been about three months at Penhow, he found himself walking in the garden in the cool of evening, knowing, it may be, that Eva often came there after evensong alone, to gaze at the sun sinking slowly into the deep glades of Wentwood, and to fancy it the likeness of the rose of Cathay, as the red lights began to burn and glow. And in due time, after Rupert had cast many a glance at the opening in the box hedges, his lady came, clothed in a dress of creamy white, the which fitted the curves of her body to admiration, and did not make the lover any cooler or less ardent. And it may be noted that these two seemed intended for one another, for both had skins of clear olive, and a feature beautifully cut out; and in Eva's eyes there was a great yearning and desire for she knew not exactly what, and also in Rupert's though he understood quite plainly what he wanted. And when she saw Rupert, she seemed to wonder a little, for the garden was no haunt of his; but merely gave him good evening as he bent before her, and then they stood a long time side by side watching the sunset. And when the lord of day had descended some while into his western habitations, a curving line of dappled cloud that rose like a serpent from above old Kemeys tower, and mounted afar into the vault of heaven, began to change from pale yellow to deep gold; from gold to red, and at last became most bloody and fiery gules, which signifieth the love of our neighbour. And for a moment Rupert gave a side glance at Eva's face and saw tears in those beautiful yearn​ing eyes, then he broke silence saying "And yet that streaming sanguine cloud is pale beside the ardour of the petals of the Rose." Instantly his lady turned to him, full eagerly and impatiently, and said "What do you know of the Rose, who can gain a blossom for me, is it indeed so precious and beautiful?" "No man can tell its excellence," answered he, "its glory goes beyond all mortal wit, and they who talk of pleasure, not having smelt its fragrance, do but babble out of square, and speak of that they know not." And she "Ah, who will gain it for me, since my husband says that it is a lie and a deceit." And he answered "I, Rupert de Launay, have crossed the whirl of sand and the terrible billows of the quaking wilderness; and for you and you alone, I gathered a blossom from the fairest tree of all, that grows in the pleasaunce of the Cloud Castle of Rohalgo. Hark do you not hear the chiming of a hundred bells as from a far distance; for this is a sign from the Lords of the Land?" And indeed Eva heard bells enow deeply ringing, but 'twas within her brain they rung, for she was filled with rapturous joy. And she said "Give me the flower O thou true loyal knight, that I may satisfy my longing." But Rupert answered "That will I, but O my darling, my delight, my treasure, let me kiss thy lips and take thee to my arms, let me slake the thirst with which I am consumed; for am I not thy lief sweetheart who has never ceased to long for thee!" And without waiting for an answer he cast his arms about her neck and drew all her body and her face close to him, and kissed her lips as ​though he would never have done. And Eva said not a word but let him squeeze her and kiss her to his heart's content since she thought it a small price to pay for the thing he had promised her; and beside⟨s⟩ she was a woman who, in fact, had no husband so that this love dalliance was by no means disagreeable. And before very long she answered his lips with hers, after the manner prescribed in the Use of Paffo, and practised by all lovers, and threw one white arm around Rupert's neck, so that altogether there was not much room left between them. And while they still kissed and clung to one another; there came a man stealthily and secretly behind the high hedge of the garden, moving like a cat before it springs, and bending down and listening for the sound of his own breath. This was none other than the old esquire Gilbert Tapp, who had seen Rupert go into the garden, and had watched him there from the tower; hence he had perceived how the knight talked with Eva; but when it came to kissing, he felt that he had his sword and ran down the tower stair, for it seemed to Gilbert that this fine couple were getting on rather friendly terms. Then he went softly and quickly behind the hedge, intending to creep behind Rupert and to kill him as he stood, the which he could have done very easily and not have hurt Eva, being an exceedingly cunning and dexterous swordsman. And it seems probable that he would have accomplished his desire; but just as Rupert began to grow more ardent and his hands to wander indiscreetly; Gilbert entangled his foot in a bough that ​stretched across the path, and fell headlong to the ground with a hideous clatter of steel and a dreadful storm of oaths, for this mischance vexed him. At this Eva cried out "O leave me, begone, there's no time to spare, in five minutes the guard will be out, and we surrounded, make haste, speed you, make haste, for your life." And Rupert answered speaking swiftly as well he might: "Farewell; but when you hear them singing It is ordained by Love's decree, look for me." So saying he leapt away, and vanished into the woods, while Gilbert swore hard, since when he got to his feet, he was dizzy and staggered from side to side, as if he were half seas over. Meanwhile Eva ran by another way to her bower, and sat down in no little fear as to what her husband might do or say when he came to hear Gilbert's story. The which, you may be sure, was recounted presently, with due emphasis and perspicuity, to the great astonishment of Sir Roger, who had never thought to be troubled with an adventure of this kind; and passed his hand across his forehead as if he expected to find certain protuberances already sprouting out therefrom. Gilbert was for sending out a party to raise hutesium et clamorem, to scour the woods, ransack the barns, poke spears into the mows of hay, and explore the ditches: "'tis ten to one," said he, "we should catch the young devil curled up in some cranny, and thus take away the risk of any mistakes in the future." But Sir Roger answered "No, no, he's far away by this, you may be sure, and I expect will put Severn Sea betwixt him and Penhow ​before morning; and I suppose we shall hear his tales of chivalry no more. Let him go then, for after all there was no great harm done, and you know Gilbert, young blood is warm." Then Sir Roger dismissed his captain, and sent for Eva, to whom he discoursed at some length on her folly and misdemeanour, promised her faithfully to cut Rupert de Launay into little pieces if he should catch him, and sent her away, to all appearance penitent, but in fact exultant, since Eva was now very artful. How was this? Why, because she was in love and had all the chambers of her mind illuminated by a clear dazzling light that showed her everything more plainly than the tapers show the waxen images on a king's hearse; and as she went she laughed to herself and sang It is ordained by Love's decree but very softly. But you must observe that she flattered herself all the while that it was the Rose she longed for and not her lover's lips; though she confessed that Rupert's system of kissing was vastly superior to any methods her husband practised. So from this sweet yet dreadful night Eva walked about the castle delicately, living in a beautiful dream world full of rosy clouds and fancies, and languorous delights which made her blush when she was alone. But you may be sure that as she walked, stood, sat, or lay down, in hall or bower, in her garden or on her bed, she kept all her ears wide open for the signal, knowing not from what quarter it should come. And her husband on his part forbade her to go beyond the walls of the castle, and set a watch upon her, ​whilst Gilbert and his men at arms were continually vigilant, and let not so much as an old woman pass the gate unquestioned. And Eva smiled to see their care, for she knew that Rupert loved her, and that no portcullis can keep out love, who always managed to slip through the holes and to pass the guard on his blind side, for the little god is very crafty. And one evening about six o'clock as Eva paced beside the box hedges in her clinging dress, looking very beautiful in the mellow light of evening, a boy's voice suddenly began to sing It is ordained by Love's Decree and looking upward she saw one of the pages walking on the gallery of the tower, and trilling out his melody carelessly and gaily enough as if he knew of nothing better to do. Quickly she turned away and leant against a plum tree, for the fierce blood surged up over her breasts and neck and face, and she trembled exceedingly, not knowing what might happen next, or whether Rupert might not be within a stone's throw of her. But looking all around she saw no one, and the page's song had come to an end, and he was leaning against the beams of the gallery with his chin on his hands. And soon after the twilight came on, and Eva walked unsteadily to her bedchamber and made her women undress her and then leave her, save one girl whom she trusted and who slept in the same room on a smaller bed. But Sir Roger slept not with her and had not done so for many years. This wench Eva cautioned, so soon as they were alone, and bade her sleep her soundest and on no account to see or hear anything till dawn, ​speaking half in jest and half in earnest; and the girl laughed merrily and promised to be as deaf and blind as the bed-posts, for she scented a mystery, and relished having some sort of a part to play therein, though it were a mute one. And Eva lay with her eyes wide open, listening for every sound, and thinking every moment that the door was moving; but it was midnight before her wish was fulfilled. And I believe she had at last fallen asleep, and was aroused in the sweetest manner that can possibly be conceived, namely by the warmth of a pair of eager lips pressing on her own, and the first words she heard were pleasant words enough though trite being "my darling." And here I think we had better leave Eva and her gallant who had to make the best excuses he was able for not bringing the Rose with him, the which I doubt not, he did to admiration. But I deem it worth while to tell you how he contrived to get inside Penhow, guarded as it was by men trained in war, for the manner of it was very curious and artful. You must know then that Rupert, in those days when he was elaborating his plans and marking out a course of amorous adventure, had foreseen that he was more likely than not to be surprised in the midst of his first onset, and like a wise general had heedfully provided for this event. For so gallant and brave a knight was he that the risk and hazard spurred him on and strengthened his resolve; and well he knew how swiftly his sword leapt from the scabbard, and how surely it cut through steel and flesh and bone, for he had made ​this blade to drink the life-blood of mighty warriors. Therefore he was all the more resolved to bring the affair to a conclusion, and took order wisely so as to be prepared for the event. For he practised with a page whom he favoured above his fellows, and instructed him that if he, Rupert, were suddenly from Penhow, this page was to coin an excuse and the third morning after come to the tallest oak tree by Kemeys Tower, and there wait for him. Also Rupert had won over by fair words and gold pieces the two men in the castle who commonly fetched water from the well below, and they had promised him to do his pleasure in the fashion he showed to them. And when Rupert was forced suddenly to flee away, right as Sir Roger said, he passed over Severn Sea; but returned in time to meet his factor by Kemeys, and then and there taught him how he was to sing the song in Eva's hearing, and likewise charged him to warn the two watermen, that they should delay their office as late as they were able, and drive all folk away from the well. Thus these fellows waited till it was quite dark, and then drew the great barrel-on-wheels down to the fountain, giving many a glance to right and left, for they knew that if this complot were discovered, there would be a noose and a ladder for each of them. And no sooner did they come to the well than Rupert de Launay stepped out of the darkness; off went the head of the barrel, and in he crept, and so was drawn up the hill and through the gateway of Penhow and remained curled up where the water should have been, till he thought all ​safe and made his way across the courtyard and up the stair, and so woke his sweetheart with a kiss. But the next day it was discovered that there was no sign of moisture in the cask, it was as droughty as a field in summer; everybody was interrogated as to this strange circumstance, but none knew anything of the matter; and the watermen swore that the machine was heavy enough to draw up the night before; and this indeed was nothing but the truth. And Rupert lay concealed all through that day in Eva's chamber; nor did the time pass wearily, for his mistress came to him ever and anon, and stayed with him as long as she dared, since she thought no more of any rose but love, the which she now tasted for the first time, and could not satiate herself therewith. But you may suppose that the girl who slept with Eva was posted conveniently and kept a sharp look out for the enemy, lest the sweethearts should be interrupted in their sport by the whistling of a sword blade, and have no time to put their affairs in order, or to look about them. To be short the dear day of love came to a close all too soon, as such days mostly do, and when it was dark again the wench rapped at the door of the chamber and said "They are ready." I doubt not gentlemen you have heard and read a good deal about the farewells that take place on these occasions, and maybe have had experience in the matter (saving always your Canonical reverence) so I will cut my tale as short as the lover's final kiss was long, and briefly tell you that by good luck, (as I believe) more than anything else, the gallant got ​again and into the barrel and was trundled out of Penhow Castle and down the hill. I conceive however that he laid as firm a hold upon his sword as he was able when Gilbert stopped them by the gate, and adjured the men to make no more mistakes as to the water, if they desired to escape the lash: and as he spoke gave the cask a sounding blow with his truncheon by way of emphasis. But that was all; so Rupert leapt out in safety, bountifully rewarded the carriers, and sped away, no one knows whither, for his hiding place at this period has never been revealed. And so soon as Sir Roger's mind was set at ease about his wife, he hindered her not from walking abroad with her women, as she had formerly been used; and one day not long after whenas Eva and the girl in whom she trusted were pacing through a wood near Penhow, a splendid knight and his yeoman came riding after them and reined in their horses. Then the knight drew up Eva bidding her fear not and cling close to him, and the yeoman made a place for the wench, so with a joyous blast on the horn, they rode away beneath the trees, the boughs closed behind them and they were seen no more in Gwent. But that very morning Gilbert Tapp had cursed a page for trilling out from the gallery The swallows fly the greenwood shade. To flit across the sea. And there the joyous sun hath made A merry home for me: Far from the forest glade. Hence it came to pass that Sir Roger de Sco. Mauro was left alone with the grim old squire; and passed his time chiefly in looking at the rings and jewells Eva had liked best and in ​wondering what she could have found so desirable in Rupert de Launay. But he died soon after, expressing to the last a poor opinion of wedlock, and exhorting his son to feel his way very carefully when he came to have truck with womenfolk. As for Eva and her paramour they are stated to have fled to France, and to have lived a merry life there, meeting with no particular misfortunes, but getting off scot-free in this world at any rate. And there is certainly in Picardy a right noble and illustrious house of that name, who dwell in a fine castle, and trace their line to one of Charlemagne's Paladins; but whether this family had its root in the unlawful love of Eva and Rupert does not certainly appear. But there is trouble when seventy is matched with seventeen.
Thus the Seigneur of Roche-Nemours brought his tale to an end, and as he finished the strange musick that had sounded brokenly all the while, came clearly on the cool breeze of evening to our ears, and died away to a wistful singing close. And we all praised the story, but the Cursal Canon could not bear that Eva and her leman should escape their temporal punishment. And he urged my lord to mend this, if he recounted it again, and to drown the pair of lovers within sight of France, especially if any illiterate persons were within earshot. "For" (said he) "though the dull and gross idiots are slow enough to extract morality from what they hear, they snuff out lechery, give tongue, and follow after it as briskly as a good hound scents the fox. And the very same folk are the worst ​backbiters and most malicious, and if they heard your name would turn up their eyes and whine out 'Alas! alas! he tells very wanton tales. I fear he lives but lewdly.'" "Truly, father, I believe you speak the truth," answered by lord, "and for the future I will follow your counsels and make these poor sinners die most miserably and wretchedly; or better still, Eva shall live and turn into a shrew, and so make Rupert's days a burthen unto him." And now the sky began to darken, and the mists to rise from the river, so we called our host and paid our shot, and went forth into the town, that was by this time beginning to resound with genuine mirth and to exhibit pleasant personages far gone in Silurianism. But the Cursal Canon gave us his blessing and bade us farewell, for he was purposed to ride as far as Abergavenny and to lie there for the night. And at his departure we were sorry, for he was a devout, fat man, and we had hoped to hear from his lips some fine story of the old Decretal Days, or other pleasant case drawn from the Records of St. David's Chapter. Nevertheless we passed an hour or two pleasantly, wandering to and fro among the Silurians, and watching their amusements, and above all we delighted to hear odd scraps of talk as folk went by us, and strove to make sense out of such phrases as "came softly and scraped the key-hole," "she knows you not yet, and asked me the other day who you were," "it was for the third time and her mother." But I strove all the while to find out the musick I had heard from the garden, being desirous of hearing them play ​some piece from beginning to end, but there was no vestige of them to be seen. I believe Phil Ambrose would have willingly stayed in the streets all the night, for such festivals as this were his chiefest joy, and he walked with his head on one side smiling quaintly to himself. But since the Rubrican, Tom Bamfylde, by dint of running like a coney into every burrow with a sign or ⟨a⟩ bush above it, was becoming very drunk and somewhat tedious, we were resolved to make a start, and waited for him at the door of an inn, but still he came not forth. At last I went after him and going dubiously along a passage that seemed to be without end, found my companion seated in the easiest chair, smoking, drinking, and talking all at once; and in front of him on the settle was a row of olden gray-beards of Uske, who seemed to be listening attentively to his facetious discourses. Forthwith I made my way through a thick cloud of smoke and made Tom follow me out; the which he was very loathe to do, since he was a man apt to hang over his cups. Yet before ten struck we were on horseback, and had sped over the bridge; and went together till the turning to Landevennoc, and here my Lord of Roche-Nemours left us, for his way was to Caerleon. Then we fell into a single file, and Phil Ambrose set a catch going, and so with singing we passed through the solemn scented night, and strove to make the journey fro as pleasant as it had been to.