Wherefore was Joceliande’s heart yet hotter against the twain, and she cried aloud: 

“Nay, but it is on us that the shame of your cowardice will fall.  Even now Sir Broyance left our hall in anger and scorn.  It may not be that our chiefest noble shall so disgrace us.”

But Sieur Rudel laughed lightly, and answered her: 

“Madame, full oft have I jeopardised my life in your good cause, and I fear no charge of cowardice more than I fear thistle-down.”

His words did but increase the fury of the princess, and she brake out in most bitter speech: 

“Nay, but it is a kitchen knave we have been honouring unawares, and bidding sit with us at table!”

And straightway she called to her servants and bade them fetch the warden of the castle with the fetters.  But the Sieur Rudel laughed again, and said: 

“Thus it will be impossible that I leave my dear Solita and voyage perilously to Broye.”

Nor any effort or resistance did he make, but lightly suffered them to fetter him, the while the princess most foully mis-said him.  With fetters they prisoned his feet, and manacles they straitly fastened about his wrists, and they bound him to a pillar in the hall by a chain about his middle.

“There shall you bide,” she said, “in shameful bonds until you make promise to voyage forth to Broye.  For surely there is nothing so vile in all this world as a craven gentleman.”

With that she turned her again to the feast, though little heart she had thereto.  But the Sieur Rudel was well content; for not for all the honour in Christendom would he break his word to his dear Solita.  Howbeit, the nobles were ever urgent that the princess should set him free, pleading the worshipful deeds he had accomplished in her cause.  But to none of them would she hearken, and the fair gentle ladies of the Court greatly applauded her for her persistence—­and especially those who had erstwhile dropped their gauntlets that Rudel might bend and pick them up.  And many pleasant jests they passed upon the Sieur Rudel, bidding him dance with them, since he was loth to fight.  But he paid no heed to them, nor could they provoke him by any number of taunts.  Whereupon, being angered at his silence, they were fain to send to Solita and make their sport with her.

But that Joceliande would not suffer, and, rising, she went to Solita’s chamber and entreated her most kindly, telling her that for love of her the Sieur Rudel would not adventure himself at Broye.  Not a word did she say of how she had mistreated him, and Solita answered her jocundly for that her lord had held his pledge with her.  But when the castle was still, the princess took Solita by the hand and led her down the steps to where Rudel stood against the pillar in the dark hall.

“For thy sake, sweet Solita,” she said, “is he bound.  For thy sake!” and she made her feel the manacles upon his hands.  And when Solita had so felt his bonds, she wept, and made the greatest sorrow that ever man heard.