“There is much danger in the adventure,” she said at length, doubtfully.

“Were there no danger, madame,” he replied, “we should not ask Sieur Rudel of you to be our leader, and great though the danger be, greater far is the honour.  For we offer him a kingdom.”

Then the princess spake again to Sir Broyance: 

“It may not be,” she said.  “Whatever else you crave, that shall you have, and gladly will I grant it you.  But the Sieur Rudel is the flower of our Court, he stands ever at my right hand, and woe is me if I let him go, for I am only a woman.”

“But, madame, for his knighthood’s sake, I pray you assent to our prayer,” said Sir Broyance.  “Few enemies have you, but many friends, whereas we are sore pressed on every side.”

But the princess repeated:  “I am only a woman,” and for a long while he made his prayer in vain.

At last, however, the princess said: 

“For his knighthood’s sake thus far will I yield to you:  Bide here within my castle until Sieur Rudel gets him home, and then shall you make your prayer to him, and by his answer will I be bound.”

“That I will well,” replied Sir Broyance, bethinking him of the Sieur Rudel’s valour, and how that he had a kingdom to proffer to him.

But the Princess Joceliande said to herself: 

“I, too, will offer him a kingdom.  My throne shall he share with me;” and so she entertained Sir Broyance right pleasantly until the Sieur Rudel should get him back from the foray.  Meanwhile she would say to Solita, “He shall not go to Broye, for in truth I need him;” and Solita would laugh happily, replying, “It is truth:  he will not go to Broye,” and thinking thereto silently, “but it is not the princess who will keep him, but even I, her poor handmaiden.  For I have his promise never to depart from me.”  So much confidence had her mirror taught her, as it ever is with women.

But despite them both did the Sieur Rudel voyage to Broye and rule over the kingdom as its king, and how that came about ye shall hear.

Now on the fourth day after the coming of Sir Broyance, the Princess Joceliande was leaning over the baluster of her balcony and gazing seawards as was her wont.  The hours had drawn towards evening, and the sun stood like a glowing wheel upon the farthest edge of the sea’s grey floor, when she beheld a black speck crawl across its globe, and then another and another, to the number of thirty.  Thereupon, she knew that the Sieur Rudel had returned, and joyfully she summoned her tirewomen and bade them coif and robe her as befitted a princess.  A coronet of gold and rubies they set upon her head, and a robe of purple they hung about her shoulders.  With pearls they laced her neck and her arms, and with pearls they shod her feet, and when she saw the ships riding at their anchorage, and the Sieur Rudel step forth amid the shouts of the sailors, then she hied her to the council-chamber and prepared to give him instant audience.  Yet for all her jewels and rich attire, she trembled like a common wench at the approach of her lover, and feared that the loud beating of her heart would drown the sound of his footsteps in the passage.