suddenly upon them, so that the sailors knew not where they went, and feared each hour that all would be drowned.  So piteous was their plight that, with ropes, they bound themselves one to another, the son to the father, the uncle to the nephew, according as they stood.  The Count, his son, and Messire Thibault for their part, fastened themselves together, so that the same end should chance to all.  In no long time after this was done they saw land, and inquired of the shipmen whither they were come.  The mariners answered that this realm belonged to the Paynim, and was called the Land of Aumarie.  They asked of the Count,

“Sire, what is your will that we do?  If we seek the shore, doubtless we shall be made captives, and fall into the hands of the Saracen.”

The Count made answer, “Not my will, but the will of Jesus Christ be done.  Let the ship go as He thinks best.  We will commit our bodies and our lives to His good keeping, for a fouler and an uglier death we cannot die, than to perish in this sea.”

They drove with the wind along the coast of Aumarie, and the galleys and warships of the Saracens put out to meet them.  Be assured that this was no fair meeting, for the Paynims took them and led them before the Soudan, who was lord of that realm.  There they gave him the goods and the bodies of these Christians as a gift.  The Soudan sundered this fair fellowship, setting them in many places and in divers prisons; but since the Count, his son, and Messire Thibault were so securely bound together, he commanded that they should be cast into a dungeon by themselves, and fed upon the bread of affliction and the water of affliction.  So it was done, even as he commanded.  In this prison they lay for a space, till such time as the Count’s son fell sick.  His sickness was so grievous that the Count and Messire Thibault feared greatly that this sorrow was to death.

Now it came to pass that the Soudan held high Court because of the day of his birth, for such was the custom of the Saracens.  After they had well eaten, the Saracens stood before the Soudan, and said,

“Sire, we require of you our right.”

He inquired of what right they were speaking, and they answered,

“Sire, a Christian captive to set as a mark for our arrows.”

When the Soudan heard this he gave no thought to such a trifle, but made reply,

“Get you to the prison, and take out that captive who has the least of life in him.”

The Paynim hastened to the dungeon, and brought forth the Count, bearded, unkempt and foredone.  The Soudan marked his melancholy case, so he said to them, “This man has not long to live; take him hence, and do your will on him.”

The wife of the Soudan, of whom you have heard, the daughter of this very Count, was in the hall, when they brought forth her father to slay him.  Immediately that her eyes fell upon him the blood in her veins turned to water; not so much that she knew him as her sire, but rather that Nature tugged at her heart strings.  Then spake the dame to the Soudan, “Husband, I, too, am French, and would gladly speak with this poor wretch ere he die, if so I may.”