On a morning in summer time the Queen and the damoiseau sat fondly together.  The knight embraced her, eyes and face, but the lady stayed him, saying, “Fair sweet friend, my heart tells me that I shall lose you soon, for this hidden thing will quickly be made clear.  If you are slain, may the same sword kill me.  But if you win forth, well I know that you will find another love, and that I shall be left alone with my thoughts.  Were I parted from you, may God give me neither joy, nor rest, nor peace, if I would seek another friend.  Of that you need have no fear.  Friend, for surety and comfort of my heart deliver me now some sark of thine.  Therein I will set a knot, and make this covenant with you, that never will you put your love on dame or maiden, save only on her who shall first unfasten this knot.  Then you will ever keep faith with me, for so cunning shall be my craft, that no woman may hope to unravel that coil, either by force or guile, or even with her knife.”

So the knight rendered the sark to his lady, and made such bargain as she wished, for the peace and assurance of her mind.

For his part the knight took a fair girdle, and girt it closely about the lady’s middle.  Right secret was the clasp and buckle of this girdle.  Therefore he required of the dame that she would never grant her love, save to him only, who might free her from the strictness of this bond, without injury to band or clasp.  Then they kissed together, and entered into such covenant as you have heard.

That very day their hidden love was made plain to men.  A certain chamberlain was sent by that ancient lord with a message to the Queen.  This unlucky wretch, finding that in no wise could he enter within the chamber, looked through the window, and saw.  Forthwith he hastened to the King, and told him that which he had seen.  When the aged lord understood these words, never was there a sadder man than he.  He called together the most trusty sergeants of his guard, and coming with them to the Queen’s chamber, bade them to thrust in the door.  When Gugemar was found therein, the King commanded that he should be slain with the sword, by reason of the anguish that was his.  Gugemar was in no whit dismayed by the threat.  He started to his feet, and gazing round, marked a stout rod of fir, on which it is the use for linen to be hung.  This he took in hand, and faced his foes, bidding them have a care, for he would do a mischief to them all.  The King looked earnestly upon the fearless knight, inquiring of him who he was, and where he was born, and in what manner he came to dwell within his house.  So Gugemar told over to him this story of his fate.  He showed him of the Beast that he had wounded to his hurt; of the nave, and of his bitter wound; of how he came within the realm, and of the lady’s surgery.  He told all to the ancient lord, to the last moment when he stood within his power.  The King replied that he gave no credence to his word,