University of Virginia Library

11. THE TENTH QUESTION,
PROPOSED BY ASCALEON

IT was convenient that Ascaleon, who in circle sat next to the duke Feramont, should now propound. And therefor thus he said:

Most excellent queen, I remember that there was heretofor in this our city, a fair and noble gentlewoman left a widow of a worthy husband, the which for that her marvelous beauty was of many and noble young gentlemen beloved. And of those many there were two gentle and courageous knights, each one in what he could did endeavour himself to attain her love. And while this continued, by chance it happened that unjust accusation was brought against her by certain of her kinsfolks, before the magistrate, and after by false evidence proved, through which untrue process she was condemned to the fire. But because the conscience of the judge was perplexed, for that it seemed him as it were to know the unjust proof, he was willing to commit her life unto the gods and to fortune's chance, and so tied such a condition to his given sentence: As after the gentlewoman should be led unto the pyre, if any knight could be found the which would combat in the defence of her honour against him that would maintain the contrary, and should happen to overcome, she should then be free; and if the contrary, to be burned according to the deemed sentence.

As the condition was understood of her two lovers, and by chance sooner known to the one than to the other, he which knew the same soonest forewith took him to his armour, mounted on horseback and came into the field, gainsaying him that would come and maintain the death of the gentlewoman.

The other, that somewhat later than the first understood of this sentence, and hearing how that the knight was already in field in her defence, neither that there was then place for any other to go thither in that enterprise. And therefor not knowing herein what to do, became very sorrowful, imagining that through his slackness he had lost the love of the loved gentlewoman and that the other had justly deserved the same.

And while he thus sorrowed his mishap he bethought him that if he before any other should go armed into the field, saying that the gentlewoman ought to die, and to suffer himself to be overcome, he might thereby cause her to escape, and so according to his device he put the same in effect.

The gentlewoman hereby escaped and was delivered from peril. So that then after certain days, the first knight went unto her and recommended himself to her, putting her in remembrance how that he, to preserve her from death, had a few days past offered himself to the peril of death, and thanks be to the gods and to his force, he had delivered both her and himself from so hard a happening. Whereupon it would please her according to his desert to give her love, the which above all things he had always desired.

Afterward with the like prayers came the second knight, saying: "For your sake I have hazarded my life and because you should not die suffered myself to be overcome, whereupon I have purchased to myself eternal infamy. Whereas I contrary-wise with encountering your surety

and willing to use my force, might have been able to have gotten the honour of the victory."

The gentlewoman thanked each of them very benignedly, promising them both due recompense for the received service. And now they being departed, she abode in great doubt to which of them she should the rather give her love, to the first or to the second; and therefor prays counsel of you on which of them you would say that she ought soonest to bestow the same.

"We deem," said the queen, "that the first is to be loved and the last to be left. Because the first used force and showed his assured love in diligent sort, giving himself to every peril that might happen through the future battle even unto the death; whereby it might very well have followed, forasmuch as if such a battle to be done against him had been as lawful to any of the enemies of the gentlewoman as it was to the lover, he had been in peril of death for his defence. Neither was it manifest to him that one should come against him that would suffer himself to be overcome, as it happened. The last truly went well-advised not to die, neither to suffer the gentlewoman to die. Then, forasmuch as he put least in adventure he merits to gain the less. Let the first then have the love of the fair gentlewoman, as the just deserver thereof."

Ascaleon said: "O most prudent queen, what is that you say? Does not one time suffice to be rewarded for well-doing without craving further desert? Truly yes. The first is well requited with being of everyone honoured for the received victory. And what greater reward needs he than honour, the reward of virtue? The received honour did suffice for a greater matter than he did. And he that with all his wit came well-advised, ought he to be unrecompensed?

"And further, he to be of everyone evil-spoken of, having

nothing less than the first helped the gentlewoman to escape? Is not the wit to forsee every bodily force? How so? If this man with all his wit came for the safety of the gentlewoman, ought he for his desert to be rejected? God forbid it should be so. If he knew not the same so soon as the other, this was not through negligence, for if perhaps he had known it before the other he would have run to that which he took discreetly for the last remedy. Whereof reward justly ought to follow, the which reward ought to be the love of the gentlewoman if rightly she see unto him. And yet you say the contrary."

"God defend from your mind," answered the queen, "that vice come to a good end merit the same reward that virtue done to the like end, merits. But rather inasmuch as vice deserves correction, so no worldly desert can justly satisfy virtue. Who shall deny us to believe (although we cannot manifest the same with apparent reason) but the last knight as envious of the good turn he saw prepared for another, was moved to such an enterprise, to the end to disturb the same and not for the love he bare the gentlewoman; and yet his device failed him. He is a fool that under the colour of an enemy does endeavour himself to the end to receive recompense to help another.

"Infinite are the ways whereby it is possible enough for us to shew at the first with open friendship the love that one of us bears toward the other, without shewing ourselves as enemies and after with coloured words to make shew to have profited. The which we have said may now suffice you for answer, whom old age more than anything else ought to make discreet. And we believe that when your mind shall have duely disgested these things you shall not find our judgement guileful, but true, and to be followed." And so she held her peace.