“Wife,” answered Eliduc, “neither I, nor any other, charge you with aught that is against your honour to do.  The cause of my sorrow is in myself.  I have pledged my faith to the King of that country, from whence I come, that I will return to help him in his need.  When my lord the King has peace in his realm, within eight days I shall be once more upon the sea.  Great travail I must endure, and many pains I shall suffer, in readiness for that hour.  Return I must, and till then I have no mind for anything but toil; for I will not give the lie to my plighted word.”

Eliduc put his fief once more in the hands of his dame.  He sought his lord, and aided him to the best of his might.  By the counsel and prowess of the knight, the King came again into his own.  When the term appointed by his lady, and the day she named for his return drew near, Eliduc wrought in such fashion that peace was accorded between the foes.  Then the knight made him ready for his journey, and took thought to the folk he should carry with him.  His choice fell on two of his nephews, whom he loved very dearly, and on a certain chamberlain of his household.  These were trusted servitors, who were of his inmost mind, and knew much of his counsel.  Together with these went his squires, these only, for Eliduc had no care to take many.  All these, nephew and squire and chamberlain, Eliduc made to promise, and confirm by an oath, that they would reveal nothing of his business.

The company put to sea without further tarrying, and, crossing quickly, came to that land where Eliduc so greatly desired to be.  The knight sought a hostel some distance from the haven, for he would not be seen of any, nor have it bruited that Eliduc was returned.  He called his chamberlain, and sent him to his friend, bearing letters that her knight had come, according to the covenant that had been made.  At nightfall, before the gates were made fast, Eliduc issued forth from the city, and followed after his messenger.  He had clothed himself in mean apparel, and rode at a footpace straight to the city, where dwelt the daughter of the King.  The chamberlain arrived before the palace, and by dint of asking and prying, found himself within the lady’s chamber.  He saluted the maiden, and told her that her lover was near.  When Guillardun heard these tidings she was astonied beyond measure, and for joy and pity wept right tenderly.  She kissed the letters of her friend, and the messenger who brought such welcome tidings.  The chamberlain prayed the lady to attire and make her ready to join her friend.  The day was spent in preparing for the adventure, according to such plan as had been devised.  When dark was come, and all was still, the damsel stole forth from the palace, and the chamberlain with her.  For fear that any man should know her again, the maiden had hidden, beneath a riding cloak, her silken gown, embroidered with gold.  About the space of a bow shot from the city gate, there