But cure of his love-pangs it brought him none!

The warrior took his leave, never to set eyes on mother, brother or brother’s lands again. This was great loss to many. He warmly thanked all who had shown him marks of favour before he left. He thought it more than his due: of his courtesy he never let it appear that they had done it because bound. In disposition he was as straight as straight could be. Those who proclaim their own worth court incredulity: so let a man’s neighbours and those who witness his exploits abroad vouch for it – then his tale would be believed!

Gahmuret cultivated self-control and moderation in all things. He was not given to boasting, endured great honour calmly and was free of loose desires. Yet the noble man knew of no crowned head, whether king, emperor or empress, in whose household he would care to serve except his whose hand was highest over the nations of the earth. Such was his inmost wish.

He had heard there was a man in Baghdad so powerful that two thirds of the earth or more were subject to him, and whose name was so revered that, in the heathen tongue, he was called ‘The Baruc’. So irresistible was the power he wielded that many kings were subject to him for all their crowns.

The Barucate stands today. See how they dispense the Christian rite in Rome, as enjoined on us by Holy Baptism: in the other place you see the infidel order. They get their papal law from Baghdad, and, so far as it is free of crooks and crannies, deem it straight! The Baruc gives them bulls of indulgence for their sins.

There were once two brothers of Babylon, Pompeius and Ipomidon, from whom the Baruc seized Niniveh, which had always belonged to their forbears. They were giving a very good account of themselves when the young Angevin appeared on the scene. Gahmuret found favour with the Baruc, and, noble man, accepted his pay for service there and then.

You will not mind if he has to have a different coat-of-arms from the one his father Gandin bequeathed him? As one who aspired to preferment, his lordship displayed Anchors on his trappers, cut from dazzling ermine. The rest – his shield and vestments – had to follow suit. His harness was greener than an emerald, of the colour of the silken fabric known as Achmardi,* finer than brocade, of which he ordered a tabard and a surcoat. Anchors ermine were sewn on these, with cord-of-gold for cable.

His Anchors had essayed neither main nor headland, they had not bitten anywhere. A noble exile, never finding billet or rest, he had to bear this burdensome device, these Anchor-signs, from land to land.

Through how many lands did he ride, or sail around in ships? If I must swear to these, my word of honour as a knight, upon my oath, is telling you just as my source tells me – I have no other witness. It says that his manly vigour won the first place in heathendom, in Persia and Morocco. In other places, too, Damascus and Aleppo, and wherever knights gave battle, in Arabia and under the walls of Araby, his prowess achieved it that none would challenge him in single fight. Such was the fame he won there. The ambition in his heart reached out for glory. All others’ deeds crumbled and fell away in his path almost to nothingness. This was the lesson all had to learn who met him in joust. He strove with undeflected courage – such was the verdict in Baghdad.

From there he made his way to the Kingdom of Zazamanc. Here people were all lamenting the death of Isenhart who had lost his life in the service of a lady. It was sweet and constant Belacane who had brought him to this pass. She had never allowed him to enjoy her love, so now he lay dead for love of her. His kinsmen were avenging him in open war and ambush, and were beleaguering the lady with their, armies. When Gahmuret came to her country she was making a stout defence.