ion, bed and candle, and
marvelled greatly. Gugemar sat him down upon the bed for a little,
because of the anguish of his wound. After he had rested a space he
got upon his feet, that he might quit the vessel, but he found that
for him there was no return. A gentle wind had filled the sails, and
already he was in the open sea. When Gugemar saw that he was far from
land, he was very heavy and sorrowful. He knew not what to do, by
reason of the mightiness of his hurt. But he must endure the adventure
as best he was able; so he prayed to God to take him in His keeping,
and in His good pleasure to bring him safe to port, and deliver him
from the peril of death. Then climbing upon the couch, he laid his
head upon the pillow, and slept as one dead, until, with vespers, the
ship drew to that haven where he might find the healing for his hurt.

Gugemar had come to an ancient city, where the King of that realm held
his court and state. This King was full of years, and was wedded to
a dame of high degree. The lady was of tender age, passing fresh and
fair, and sweet of speech to all. Therefore was the King jealous of
his wife beyond all measure. Such is the wont of age, for much it
fears that old and young cannot mate together, and that youth will
turn to youth. This is the death in life of the old.

The castle of this ancient lord had a mighty keep. Beneath this tower
was a right fair orchard, together with a close, shut in by a wall of
green marble, very strong and high. This wall had one only gate, and
the door was watched of warders, both night and day. On the other side
of this garden was the sea, so that none might do his errand in the
castle therefrom, save in a boat. To hold his dame in the greater
surety, the King had built a bower within the wall; there was no
fairer chamber beneath the sun. The first room was the Queen's chapel.
Beyond this was the lady's bedchamber, painted all over with shapes
and colours most wonderful to behold. On one wall might be seen Dame
Venus, the goddess of Love, sweetly flushed as when she walked the
water, lovely as life, teaching men how they should bear them in loyal
service to their lady. On another wall, the goddess threw Ovid's book
within a fire of coals. A scroll issuing from her lips proclaimed that
those who read therein, and strove to ease them of their pains, would
find from her neither service nor favour. In this chamber the lady was
put in ward, and with her a certain maiden