nor believed that the story ran as he had said.  If, however, the vessel might be found, he would commit the knight again to the waves.  He would go the more heavily for the knight’s saining, and a glad day would it be if he made shipwreck at sea.  When they had entered into this covenant together, they went forth to the harbour, and there discovered the barge, even as Gugemar had said.  So they set him thereon, and prayed him to return unto his own realm.

Without sail or oar the ship parted from that coast, with no further tarrying.  The knight wept and wrung his hands, complaining of his lady’s loss, and of her cherishing.  He prayed the mighty God to grant him speedy death, and never to bring him home, save to meet again with her who was more desirable than life.  Whilst he was yet at his orisons, the ship drew again to that port, from whence she had first come.  Gugemar made haste to get him from the vessel, so that he might the more swiftly return to his own land.  He had gone but a little way when he was aware of a squire of his household, riding in the company of a certain knight.  This squire held the bridle of a destrier in his hand, though no man rode thereon.  Gugemar called to him by name, so that the varlet looking upon him, knew again his lord.  He got him to his feet, and bringing the destrier to his master, set the knight thereon.  Great was the joy, and merry was the feast, when Gugemar returned to his own realm.  But though his friends did all that they were able, neither song nor game could cheer the knight, nor turn him from dwelling in his unhappy thoughts.  For peace of mind they urged that he took to himself a wife, but Gugemar would have none of their counsel.  Never would he wed a wife, on any day, either for love or for wealth, save only that she might first unloose the knot within his shirt.  When this news was noised about the country, there was neither dame nor damsel in the realm of Brittany, but essayed to unfasten the knot.  But there was no lady who could gain to her wish, whether by force or guile.

Now will I show of that lady, whom Gugemar so fondly loved.  By the counsel of a certain baron the ancient King set his wife in prison.  She was shut fast in a tower of grey marble, where her days were bad, and her nights worse.  No man could make clear to you the great pain, the anguish and the dolour, that she suffered in this tower, wherein, I protest, she died daily.  Two years and more she lay bound in prison, where warders came, but never joy or delight.  Often she thought upon her friend.

“Gugemar, dear lord, in an evil hour I saw you with my eyes.  Better for me that I die quickly, than endure longer my evil lot.  Fair friend, if I could but win to that coast whence you sailed, very swiftly would I fling myself in the sea, and end my wretched life.”  When she had said these words she rose to her feet, and coming to the door was amazed to find therein neither bolt nor key.  She issued forth, without challenge from sergeant