n't you suppose that his thoughts would have been
set on taking spoil of oxen or cows or goats? that he would have struck
at some knight or been stricken in turn? Not a whit! it never once
occurred to him. But his thought was so set upon Nicolette, his sweet
friend, that he forgot the reins and all he had to do. And his horse,
feeling the spur, dashed with him through the press, and charged right
into the thick of the enemy, who laid hands on him on all sides, and made
him prisoner. They took from him shield and lance, and led him captive
then and there. They were already questioning one with another as to
what manner of death they should put him to; and when Aucassin heard it,

"Ah, gracious Heaven!" he said, "and are these my mortal foes who hale me
here and are presently about to cut off my head? And once I have my head
cut off, nevermore shall I speak to Nicolette my sweet friend whom I love
so well. Nay, I have yet a good sword, and under me a good steed
untired. An I defend me not now for her sake, ne'er help her God if ever
again she love me!"

The boy was tall and strong, and the horse beneath him was eager. He put
his hand to his sword and began to strike to right and to left, slashing
helmet and nose-guard, fist and wrist, and making havoc all around him as
the boar does when the dogs set on him in the forest; so that he
overthrew ten of their knights and wounded seven; and charged then and
there out of the press, and rode back full gallop, sword in hand.

Bulgarius, Count of Valence, heard say that they were about to hang
Aucassin his enemy, and came that way. Aucassin failed not to espy him;
and gripping his sword, he smote him through the helmet so that he clave
it to the skull. He was so stunned that he fell to earth; and Aucassin
put out his hand and took him prisoner, and led him off by the nose-guard
of his helmet, and delivered him to his father.

"Father," said Aucassin, "see here is your enemy who has made war on you
so long and done you hurt so great. Twenty years has this war lasted,
and never a man to put an end to it."

"Fair son," said his father, "well were it you should do deeds like this,
and not gape at folly!"

"Father," said Aucassin, "read me no lectures, but keep me my covenant!"

"Bah! what covenant, fair son?"

"Alack, father, have you forgotten it? By the head of me, forget it who
may, I do not mean to forget it. Rather have I laid it much to heart.
Did you not m