path.  The varlet brought them to a town; in all the world was none so fair.  Within this city was a mighty Abbey, filled with monks in their holy habit.  The varlet craved a lodging for the night, and the pilgrims were welcomed gladly of the monks, who gave them meat and drink near by the Abbot’s table.  On the morrow, after Mass, they would have gone their way, but the Abbot prayed them to tarry for a little, since he would show them his chapter house and dormitory, and all the offices of the Abbey.  As the Abbot had sheltered them so courteously, the husband did according to his wish.

Immediately that the dinner had come to an end, the pilgrims rose from table, and visited the offices of the Abbey.  Coming to the chapter house they entered therein, and found a fair tomb, exceeding great, covered with a silken cloth, banded with orfreys of gold.  Twenty torches of wax stood around this rich tomb, at the head, the foot, and the sides.  The candlesticks were of fine gold, and the censer swung in that chantry was fashioned from an amethyst.  When the pilgrims saw the great reverence vouchsafed to this tomb, they inquired of the guardians as to whom it should belong, and of the lord who lay therein.  The monks commenced to weep, and told with tears, that in that place was laid the body of the best, the bravest, and the fairest knight who ever was, or ever should be born.  “In his life he was King of this realm, and never was there so worshipful a lord.  He was slain at Caerwent for the love of a lady of those parts.  Since then the country is without a King.  Many a day have we waited for the son of these luckless lovers to come to our land, even as our lord commanded us to do.”

When the lady heard these words she cried to her son with a loud voice before them all.

“Fair son,” said she, “you have heard why God has brought us to this place.  It is your father who lies dead within this tomb.  Foully was he slain by this ancient Judas at your side.”

With these words she plucked out the sword, and tendered him the glaive that she had guarded for so long a season.  As swiftly as she might she told the tale of how Eudemarec came to have speech with his friend in the guise of a hawk; how the bird was betrayed to his death by the jealousy of her lord; and of Yonec the falcon’s son.  At the end she fell senseless across the tomb, neither did she speak any further word until the soul had gone from her body.  When the son saw that his mother lay dead upon her lover’s grave, he raised his father’s sword and smote the head of that ancient traitor from his shoulders.  In that hour he avenged his father’s death, and with the same blow gave quittance for the wrongs of his mother.  As soon as these tidings were published abroad, the folk of that city came together, and setting the body of that fair lady within a coffin, sealed it fast, and with due rite and worship placed it beside the body of her friend.  May God grant them pardon and peace.  As to Yonec, their son, the people acclaimed him for their lord, as he departed from the church.