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 be hurt, and straightway he hurled out of the press, and rode back again at full speed, sword in hand.  The Count Bougars de Valence heard say they were about hanging Aucassin, his enemy, so he came into that place, and Aucassin was ware of him, and gat his sword into his hand, and lashed at his helm with such a stroke that he drave it down on his head, and he being stunned, fell grovelling.  And Aucassin laid hands on him, and caught him by the nasal of his helmet, and gave him to his father.

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

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

“Father,” saith Aucassin, “sermon me no sermons, but fulfil 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 Nicolete, 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 let burn her in the fire, and thyself shouldst be sore adread.”

“Is this thy last word?” quoth Aucassin.

“So help me God,” quoth his father, “yea!”

“Certes,” quoth Aucassin, “this is a sorry thing meseems, when a man of thine age lies!”

“Count of Valence,” quoth Aucassin, “I took thee?”

“In sooth, Sir, didst thou,” saith the Count.

“Give me thy hand,” saith Aucassin.

“Sir, with good will.”

So he set his hand in the other’s.

“Now givest thou me thy word,” saith Aucassin, “that never whiles thou art living man wilt thou avail to do my father dishonour, or harm him in body, or in goods, but do it thou wilt?”

“Sir, in God’s name,” saith he, “mock me not, but put me to my ransom; ye cannot ask of me gold nor silver, horses nor palfreys, vair nor gris, hawks nor hounds, but I will give you them.”

“What?” quoth Aucassin.  “Ha, knowest thou not it was I that took thee?”

“Yea, sir,” quoth the Count Bougars.

“God help me never, but I will make thy head fly from thy shoulders, if thou makest not troth,” said Aucassin.