“Fair friend, for God’s love I pray you get from hence as quickly as you are able.  My time will end before the day, and my household, in their wrath, may do you a mischief if you are found in the castle.  They are persuaded that by reason of your love I have come to my death.  Fair friend, I am right heavy and sorrowful because of you.”

The lady made answer, “Friend, the best thing that can befall me is that we shall die together.  How may I return to my husband?  If he finds me again he will certainly slay me with the sword.”

The knight consoled her as he could.  He bestowed a ring upon his friend, teaching her that so long as she wore the gift, her husband would think of none of these things, nor care for her person, nor seek to revenge him for his wrongs.  Then he took his sword and rendered it to the lady, conjuring her by their great love, never to give it to the hand of any, till their son should be counted a brave and worthy knight.  When that time was come she and her lord would go—­together with the son—­to a feast.  They would lodge in an Abbey, where should be seen a very fair tomb.  There her son must be told of this death; there he must be girt with this sword.  In that place shall be rehearsed the tale of his birth, and his father, and all this bitter wrong.  And then shall be seen what he will do.

When the knight had shown his friend all that was in his heart, he gave her a bliaut, passing rich, that she might clothe her body, and get her from the palace.  She went her way, according to his command, bearing with her the ring, and the sword that was her most precious treasure.  She had not gone half a mile beyond the gate of the city when she heard the clash of bells, and the cries of men who lamented the death of their lord.  Her grief was such that she fell four separate times upon the road, and four times she came from out her swoon.  She bent her steps to the lodge where her friend had refreshed him, and rested for awhile.  Passing beyond she came at last to her own land, and returned to her husband’s tower.  There, for many a day, she dwelt in peace, since—­as Eudemarec foretold—­her lord gave no thought to her outgoings, nor wished to avenge him, neither spied upon her any more.

In due time the lady was delivered of a son, whom she named Yonec.  Very sweetly nurtured was the lad.  In all the realm there was not his like for beauty and generosity, nor one more skilled with the spear.  When he was of a fitting age the King dubbed him knight.  Hearken now, what chanced to them all, that self-same year.

It was the custom of that country to keep the feast of St. Aaron with great pomp at Caerleon, and many another town besides.  The husband rode with his friends to observe the festival, as was his wont.  Together with him went his wife and her son, richly apparelled.  As the roads were not known of the company, and they feared to lose their way, they took with them a certain youth to lead them in the straight