The Canterbury Tales · The Man of Law’s Tale · The Tale 1424 (3/4)

This messenger drank sadly1629 ale and wine,

And stolen were his letters privily

Out of his box, while he slept as a swine;

And counterfeited was full subtilly

Another letter, wrote full sinfully,

Unto the king, direct of this mattére

From his Constable, as ye shall after hear.

This letter said, the queen deliver’d was

Of so horrible a fiendlike creatúre,

That in the castle none so hardy1630 was

That any while he durst therein endure:

The mother was an elf by áventure

Become,1631 by charmës or by sorcery,

And every man hated her company.

Woe was this king when he this letter had seen,

But to no wight he told his sorrows sore,

But with his owen hand he wrote again;

“Welcome the sond1632 of Christ for evermore

To me, that am now learned in this lore:1633

Lord, welcome be thy lust1634 and thy pleasance,

My lust I put all in thine ordinance.

“Keepë1635 this child, all be it foul or fair,

And eke my wife, unto mine homecoming:

Christ when him list may send to me an heir,

More agreeáble than this to my liking.”

This letter he sealed, privily weeping.

Which to the messenger was taken soon,

And forth he went, there is no more to do’n.1636

O messenger full fill’d of drunkenness,

Strong is thy breath, thy limbës falter aye,

And thou betrayest allë secretness;

Thy mind is lorn,1637 thou janglest as a jay;

Thy face is turned in a new array;1638

Where drunkenness reigneth in any rout,1639

There is no counsel hid, withoutë doubt.

O Donegild, I have no English dign1640

Unto thy malice, and thy tyranny:

And therefore to the fiend I thee resign,

Let him indite of all thy treachery.

Fy, mannish,1641 fy! O nay, by God I lie;

Fy, fiendlike spirit! for I dare well tell,

Though thou here walk, thy spirit is in hell.

This messenger came from the king again,

And at the kingë’s mother’s court he light,1642

And she was of this messenger full fain,1643

And pleased him in all that e’er she might.

He drank, and well his girdle underpight;1644

He slept, and eke he snored in his guise

All night, until the sun began to rise.

Eft1645 were his letters stolen every one,

And counterfeited letters in this wise:

The king commanded his Constable anon,

On pain of hanging and of high jewíse,1646

That he should suffer in no manner wise

Constance within his regne1647 for to abide

Three dayës, and a quarter of a tide;1648

But in the samë ship as he her fand,

Her and her youngë son, and all her gear,

He shouldë put, and crowd1649 her from the land,

And charge her, that she never eft come there.

O my Constance, well may thy ghost1650 have fear,

And sleeping in thy dream be in penánce,1651

When Donegild cast1652 all this ordinance.1653

This messenger, on morrow when he woke,

Unto the castle held the nextë1654 way,

And to the constable the letter took;

And when he this dispiteous1655 letter sey,1656

Full oft he said, “Alas, and well-away!

Lord Christ,” quoth he, “how may this world endure?

So full of sin is many a creature.

“O mighty God, if that it be thy will,

Since thou art rightful judge, how may it be

That thou wilt suffer innocence to spill,1657

And wicked folk reign in prosperity?

Ah! good Constance, alas! so woe is me,

That I must be thy tormentor, or dey1658

A shameful death, there is no other way.”

Wept bothë young and old in all that place,

When that the king this cursed letter sent;

And Constance, with a deadly palë face,

The fourthë day toward her ship she went:

But natheless she took in good intent

The will of Christ, and kneeling on the strond1659

She saidë, “Lord, aye welcome be thy sond.1660

“He that me keptë from the falsë blame,

While I was in the land amongës you,

He can me keep from harm and eke from shame

In the salt sea, although I see not how:

As strong as ever he was, he is yet now,

In him trust I, and in his mother dear;

That is to me my sail and eke my stere.”1661

Her little child lay weeping in her arm,

And, kneeling, piteously to him she said,

“Peace, little son, I will do thee no harm:”

With that her kerchief off her head she braid,1662

And over his little eyen she it laid,

And in her arm she lulled it full fast,

And unto heav’n her eyen up she cast.

“Mother,” quoth she, “and maiden bright, Marý,

Sooth is, that through a woman’s eggement1663

Mankind was lorn,1664 and damned aye to die;

For which thy child was on a cross y-rent:1665

Thy blissful eyen saw all his torment,

Then is there no comparison between

Thy woe, and any woe man may sustene.

“Thou saw’st thy child y-slain before thine eyen,

And yet now lives my little child, parfay:1666

Now, lady bright, to whom the woeful cryen,

Thou glory of womanhood, thou fairë may,1667

Thou haven of refuge, bright star of day,

Rue1668 on my child, that of thy gentleness

Ruest on every rueful1669 in distress.

“O little child, alas! what is thy guilt,

That never wroughtest sin as yet, pardie?1670

Why will thine hardë1671 father have thee spilt?1672

O mercy, dearë Constable,” quoth she,

“And let my little child here dwell with thee:

And if thou dar’st not save him from blame,

So kiss him onës in his father’s name.”

Therewith she looked backward to the land,

And saidë, “Farewell, husband ruthëless!”1673

And up she rose, and walked down the strand

Toward the ship, her following all the press:1674

And ever she pray’d her child to hold his peace,

And took her leave, and with an holy intent

She blessed her, and to the ship she went.

Victualed was the ship, it is no drede,1675

Abundantly for her a full long space:

And other necessaries that should need1676

She had enough, heried1677 be Goddë’s grace:

For wind and weather, Almighty God purchase,1678

And bring her home; I can no better say;

But in the sea she drived forth her way.

Allá the king came home soon after this

Unto the castle, of the which I told,

And asked where his wife and his child is;

The Constable gan about his heart feel cold,

And plainly all the matter he him told

As ye have heard; I can tell it no better;

And shew’d the king his seal, and eke his letter

And saidë; “Lord, as ye commanded me

On pain of death, so have I done certáin.”

The messenger tormented1679 was, till he

Mustë beknow,1680 and tell it flat and plain,

From night to night in what place he had lain;

And thus, by wit and subtle inquiring,

Imagin’d was by whom this harm gan spring.

The hand was known that had the letter wrote,

And all the venom of the cursed deed;

But in what wise, certáinly I know nót.

Th’ effect is this, that Alla, out of drede,1681

His mother slew, that may men plainly read,

For that she traitor was to her liegeánce:1682

Thus ended oldë Donegild with mischance.

The sorrow that this Alla night and day

Made for his wife, and for his child also,

There is no tonguë that it tellë may.

But now will I again to Constance go,

That floated in the sea in pain and woe

Five year and more, as liked Christë’s sond,1683

Ere that her ship approached to the lond.1684

Under an heathen castle, at the last,

Of which the name in my text I not find,

Constance and eke her child the sea upcast.

Almighty God, that saved all mankind,

Have on Constance and on her child some mind,

That fallen is in heathen hand eftsoon1685

In point to spill,1686 as I shall tell you soon!

Down from the castle came there many a wight

To gauren1687 on this ship, and on Constance:

But shortly from the castle, on a night,

The lordë’s steward⁠—God give him mischance⁠—

A thief that had renied our creance,1688

Came to the ship alone, and said he would

Her leman1689 be, whether she would or n’ould.1690

Woe was this wretched woman then begone;

Her child cri’d, and she cried piteously:

But blissful Mary help’d her right anon,

For, with her struggling well and mightily,

The thief fell overboard all suddenly,

And in the sea he drenched1691 for vengeánce,

And thus hath Christ unwemmed1692 kept Constánce.

O foul lust of luxúry! lo thine end!

Not only that thou faintest1693 mannë’s mind,

But verily thou wilt his body shend.1694

Th’ end of thy work, or of thy lustës blind,

Is cómplaining: how many may men find,

That not for work, sometimes, but for th’ intent

To do this sin, be either slain or shent?

How may this weakë woman have the strength

Her to defend against this renegate?

O Góliath, unmeasurable of length,

How mightë David makë thee so mate?1695

So young, and of armoúr so desolate,1696

How durst he look upon thy dreadful face?

Well may men see it was but Goddë’s grace.

Who gave Judith couráge or hardiness

To slay him, Holofernes, in his tent,

And to deliver out of wretchedness

The people of God? I say for this intent,

That right as God spirit of vigour sent

To them, and saved them out of mischance,

So sent he might and vigour to Constance.

Forth went her ship throughout the narrow mouth

Of Jubaltare and Septe,1697 driving alway,

Sometimë west, and sometime north and south,

And sometime east, full many a weary day:

Till Christë’s mother (blessed be she aye)

Had shapen1698 through her endëless goodness

To make an end of all her heaviness.

Now let us stint of Constance but a throw,1699

And speak we of the Roman emperor,

That out of Syria had by letters know

The slaughter of Christian folk, and dishonór

Done to his daughter by a false traitór⁠—

I mean the cursed wicked Soudaness,

That at the feast let1700 slay both more and less.

For which this emperor had sent anon

His senator, with royal ordinance,

And other lordës, God wot, many a one,

On Syrians to takë high vengeánce:

They burn and slay, and bring them to mischance

Full many a day: but shortly this is th’ end,

Homeward to Rome they shaped them to wend.

This senator repaired with victóry

To Romë-ward, sailing full royally,

And met the ship driving, as saith the story,

In which Constancë sat full piteously:

And nothing knew he what she was, nor why

She was in such array; nor she will say

Of her estate, although that she should dey.1701

He brought her unto Rome, and to his wife

He gave her, and her youngë son also:

And with the senator she led her life.

Thus can our Lady bringen out of woe

Woeful Constance, and many another mo’:

And longë time she dwelled in that place,

In holy works ever, as was her grace.

The senatorë’s wife her auntë was,

But for all that she knew her ne’er the more:

I will no longer tarry in this case,

But to King Alla, whom I spake of yore,

That for his wifë wept and sighed sore,

I will return, and leave I will Constance

Under the senatorë’s governance.

King Alla, which that had his mother slain,

Upon a day fell in such repentánce;

That, if I shortly tell it shall and plain,

To Rome he came to receive his penitánce,

And put him in the Popë’s ordinance

In high and low, and Jesus Christ besought

Forgive his wicked works that he had wrought.

The fame anon throughout the town is borne,

How Alla king shall come on pilgrimage,

By harbingers that wentë him beforn,

For which the senator, as was uságe,

Rode him again,1702 and many of his lineáge,

As well to show his high magnificence,

As to do any king a reverence.

Great cheerë1703 did this noble senator

To King Allá and he to him also;

Each of them did the other great honór;

And so befell, that in a day or two

This senator did to King Alla go

To feast, and shortly, if I shall not lie,

Constance’s son went in his company.

Some men would say,1704 at réquest of Constance

This senator had led this child to feast:

I may not tellen every circumstance,

Be as be may, there was he at the least:

But sooth is this, that at his mother’s hest1705

Before Allá, during the meatë’s space,1706

The child stood, looking in the kingë’s face.

This Alla king had of this child great wonder,

And to the senator he said anon,

“Whose is that fairë child that standeth yonder?”

“I n’ot,”1707 quoth he, “by God and by Saint John;

A mother he hath, but father hath he none,

That I of wot:” and shortly in a stound1708

He told to Alla how this child was found.

“But God wot,” quoth this senator also,

“So virtuous a liver in all my life

I never saw, as she, nor heard of mo’

Of worldly woman, maiden, widow or wife:

I dare well say she haddë lever1709 a knife

Throughout her breast, than be a woman wick’,1710

There is no man could bring her to that prick.1711

Now was this child as like unto Constance

As possible is a creature to be:

This Alla had the face in remembránce

Of Dame Constance, and thereon mused he,

If that the childë’s mother were aught she1712

That was his wife; and privily he sight,1713

And sped him from the table that he might.1714

“Parfay,”1715 thought he, “phantom1716 is in mine head.

I ought to deem, of skilful judgëment,1717

That in the saltë sea my wife is dead.”

And afterward he made his argument,

“What wot I, if that Christ have hither sent

My wife by sea, as well as he her sent

To my country, from thennës that she went?”

And, after noon, home with the senator

Went Alla, for to see this wondrous chance.

This senator did Alla great honór,

And hastily he sent after Constance:

But trustë well, her listë not to dance.

When that she wistë wherefore was that sond,1718

Unneth1719 upon her feet she mightë stand.

When Alla saw his wife, fair he her gret,1720

And wept, that it was ruthë for to see,

For at the firstë look he on her set

He knew well verily that it was she:

And she, for sorrow, as dumb stood as a tree:

So was her heartë shut in her distress,

When she remember’d his unkindëness.

Twicë she swooned in his owen sight,

He wept and him excused piteously:

“Now God,” quoth he, “and all his hallows1721 bright

So wisly1722 on my soulë have mercý,

That of your harm as guiltëless am I,

As is Mauríce my son, so like your face,

Else may the fiend me fetch out of this place.”