The damoiseau was tall and strong, and the horse whereon he sat was right eager.  And he laid hand to sword, and fell a-smiting to right and left, and smote through helm and nasal, and arm, and clenched hand, making a murder about him, like a wild boar when hounds fall on him in the forest, even till he struck down ten knights, and seven he hurt; and straightway he hurled out of the press, and rode back again at full speed, sword in hand.  Count Bougart of Valence heard it said that they were to hang Aucassin, his enemy, so he came into that place and Aucassin was ware of him.  He gat his sword into his hand, and struck at his helm with such a stroke that it drave it down on his head, and he being stunned, fell groveling.  And Aucassin laid hands on him, and caught him by the nasal of his helmet, and gave him up to his father.

“Father,” quoth Aucassin, “lo, here is your mortal foe, who hath so warred on you and done you such evil.  Full twenty months did this war endure, and might not be ended by man.”

“Fair son,” said his father, “thy feats of youth shouldst them do, and not seek after folly.”

“Father,” saith Aucassin, “sermon me no sermons, but fulfill my covenant.”

“Ha! what covenant, fair son?”

“What, father! hast thou forgotten it?  By mine own head, whosoever forgets, will I not forget it, so much it hath me at heart.  Didst thou not covenant with me when I took up arms, and went into the stour, that if God brought me back safe and sound, thou wouldst let me see Nicolette, my sweet lady, even so long that I may have of her two words or three, and one kiss?  So didst thou covenant, and my mind is that thou keep thy word.”

“I?” quoth the father; “God forsake me when I keep this covenant!  Nay, if she were here, I would have burned her in the fire, and thou thyself shouldst be sore adread.”

THE LOVERS’ MEETING

Aucassin was cast into prison as ye have heard tell, and Nicolette, of her part, was in the chamber.  Now it was summer-time, the month of May, when days are warm, and long, and clear, and the nights still and serene.  Nicolette lay one night on her bed, and saw the moon shine clear through a window, and heard the nightingale sing in the garden, and she minded her of Aucassin her friend, whom she loved so well.  Then fell she to thoughts of Count Garin of Beaucaire, that he hated her to death; and therefore deemed she that there she would no longer abide, for that, if she were told of, and the Count knew where she lay, an ill death he would make her die.  She saw that the old woman was sleeping who held her company.  Then she arose, and clad her in a mantle of silk she had by her, very goodly, and took sheets of the bed and towels and knotted one to the other, and made therewith a cord as long as she might, and knotted it to a pillar in the window, and let herself slip down into the garden; then caught up her raiment in both hands, behind and before, and kilted up her kirtle, because of the dew that she saw lying deep on the grass, and so went on her way down through the garden.