Amongst the tales I tell you once again, I would not forget the Lay of the Were-Wolf.  Such beasts as he are known in every land.  Bisclavaret he is named in Brittany; whilst the Norman calls him Garwal.

It is a certain thing, and within the knowledge of all, that many a christened man has suffered this change, and ran wild in woods, as a Were-Wolf.  The Were-Wolf is a fearsome beast.  He lurks within the thick forest, mad and horrible to see.  All the evil that he may, he does.  He goeth to and fro, about the solitary place, seeking man, in order to devour him.  Hearken, now, to the adventure of the Were-Wolf, that I have to tell.

In Brittany there dwelt a baron who was marvellously esteemed of all his fellows.  He was a stout knight, and a comely, and a man of office and repute.  Right private was he to the mind of his lord, and dear to the counsel of his neighbours.  This baron was wedded to a very worthy dame, right fair to see, and sweet of semblance.  All his love was set on her, and all her love was given again to him.  One only grief had this lady.  For three whole days in every week her lord was absent from her side.  She knew not where he went, nor on what errand.  Neither did any of his house know the business which called him forth.

On a day when this lord was come again to his house, altogether joyous and content, the lady took him to task, right sweetly, in this fashion, “Husband,” said she, “and fair, sweet friend, I have a certain thing to pray of you.  Right willingly would I receive this gift, but I fear to anger you in the asking.  It is better for me to have an empty hand, than to gain hard words.”

When the lord heard this matter, he took the lady in his arms, very tenderly, and kissed her.

“Wife,” he answered, “ask what you will.  What would you have, for it is yours already?”

“By my faith,” said the lady, “soon shall I be whole.  Husband, right long and wearisome are the days that you spend away from your home.  I rise from my bed in the morning, sick at heart, I know not why.  So fearful am I, lest you do aught to your loss, that I may not find any comfort.  Very quickly shall I die for reason of my dread.  Tell me now, where you go, and on what business!  How may the knowledge of one who loves so closely, bring you to harm?”

“Wife,” made answer the lord, “nothing but evil can come if I tell you this secret.  For the mercy of God do not require it of me.  If you but knew, you would withdraw yourself from my love, and I should be lost indeed.”

When the lady heard this, she was persuaded that her baron sought to put her by with jesting words.  Therefore she prayed and required him the more urgently, with tender looks and speech, till he was overborne, and told her all the story, hiding naught.

“Wife, I become Bisclavaret.  I enter in the forest, and live on prey and roots, within the thickest of the wood.”

After she had learned his secret, she prayed and entreated the more as to whether he ran in his raiment, or went spoiled of vesture.