I loved him more than they and do not lack witnesses to vouch for it, since the gods, both his and mine, know the truth of it. Many were the love-pangs I suffered for him, yet my woman’s shyness made me delay his reward – and the end to my remorse! My virgin state spurred him to win fame in many feats of arms. At last I put him to the test to see if he would prove a lover. Proof was soon forthcoming. He gave away his war-gear for my sake. That Pavilion standing there like a palace was his, Scots brought it to this battlefield. Rid of his equipment he did not spare himself. Life seemed to have lost its charm for him, for he sought many an encounter bare of his armour. At this time a prince of my court named Prothizilas, a fearless man, rode out to try his fortunes, but disaster overtook him. It was no sham death that he took from his joust in the Forest of Azagouc with a brave man who also met his end there – Isenhart my suitor! They each received a spear through shield and body. Wretched woman, I mourn it still, nor shall I ever cease to regret their deaths. The affection I bear them blossoms forth in grief. I was never yet wife to any man.’

It seemed to Gahmuret that although she was an infidel, a more affectionate spirit of womanliness had never stolen over a woman’s heart. Her modest ways were a pure baptism, as was the rain that fell on her – the flood descending from her eyes down to her sabled breast. Her pleasures in life were devotion to sorrow and grief’s true doctrine.

‘The King of Scots invaded me from overseas with all his army,’ she went on. ‘He was Isenhart’s cousin on his mother’s side. It was not in their power to do me greater hurt than I had already sustained in Isenhart, I must say.’ The lady fell to sighing. Through her tears she cast many a shy glance at Gahmuret, as between strangers, and her eyes told her heart he was well made. She was a judge of fair complexions, too, since before this she had seen many a fair-skinned heathen. With this there was born between them a steadfast longing – she gazed at him, and he at her.

At length she ordered them to pour the farewell drink, though had she dared she would have left it. She was vexed that her command was not ignored, for it has never failed to dismiss gallants who would have dallied with the ladies. Yet her life had become his, and he had inspired her with the feeling that his life too was hers.

He rose to his feet. ‘I am inconveniencing you, ma’am,’ he said. ‘I have been forgetting myself, sitting here so long. It troubles your humble servant deeply to see you so distressed. I am yours to command, my lady. My vengeance shall be wherever you desire.’

‘I well believe it, sir,’ said she.

His host the Burgrave is not neglectful of his entertainment. He asks him if he would care to ride out and take the air. – ‘And see the battlefield, and the defences at the Gates?’ Gahmuret, worthy knight, replied that he would indeed like to view the scene of combat.

A merry company of knights rode down with him, both young and old. They conducted him round the sixteen Gates and explained at length how not one had been barred – ‘Day or night since revenge was sought for Isenhart.