Peace was made as follows. This is no fabrication of mine – I was told that Isenhart was buried with royal honours by his friends, who of their own accord laid out fully a year’s revenue from his lands on it. But Gahmuret decreed that Isenhart’s men should retain his great possessions and administer them separately.

Next morning the besiegers quitted the field before the fortress. Those who had been there now parted company, bearing many litters as they went.

The plain was bare of their encampments but for that grand Pavilion! The King commanded it to be taken aboard. He spread the tale among the people that he was going to take it to Azagouc, but in this he was deceiving them.

And so the proud warrior sojourned there, till finding no deeds of arms to perform he began to pine and fret, so that his happiness turned to sorrow. Yet the dusky lady was dearer to him than life. Never was there a woman of comelier form. Her heart, too, was ever mindful of the truly modest woman’s ways that were in constant attendance on it.

He asked his Sevillano to make ready for sea by a fixed hour. The man had been his pilot over many miles before: indeed, he had brought him there.

‘Conceal it from the blackamoors,’ said that wily mariner (who was himself not of Moorish hue). ‘My cogs are so fast that they will never come up with us. We must put out with all speed.’ Gahmuret gave orders to ship his gold.

And now I must tell you of a parting. That very night the noble man set sail, in secret. At the time when he gave his wife the slip she was twelve weeks gone with child. How swift the wind that drives them away!

In her purse the lady found a letter in her husband’s hand, in French, a tongue she knew. Its legend was as follows:

Herein one love salutes another, and sends its love. Like a thief I have sailed away. I had to steal away to spare our tears. Madam, I cannot conceal it that did you but live within my rite I would long for you to all eternity. Even now my passion gives me endless torment! If our child has the aspect of a man, I swear he will be brave. He is of the House of Anjou. Love will be his Mistress. In battle he will be a hail-storm and a hard neighbour to his enemies. I would have my son know that his grandsire was named Gandin and met his death in battle. Gandin’s father suffered the same fate – Addanz was his name. He was of British race. His shield never stayed whole for long. He and Utepandragun were the children of two brothers, whose names are written here: the one Lazaliez, Brickus the other. Their father’s name was Mazadan. A fairy, Terdelaschoye, lured him to the land of Feimurgan: her heart was moored to him. My race descends from this pair, nor will it ever cease to shed its lustre.