to hold her company. This
damsel was her niece, since she was her sister's child, and there was
great love betwixt the twain. When the Queen walked within the garden,
or went abroad, this maiden was ever by her side, and came again with
her to the house. Save this damsel, neither man nor woman entered in
the bower, nor issued forth from out the wall. One only man possessed
the key of the postern, an aged priest, very white and frail. This
priest recited the service of God within the chapel, and served the
Queen's plate and cup when she ate meat at table.

Now, on a day, the Queen had fallen asleep after meat, and on her
awaking would walk a little in the garden. She called her companion to
her, and the two went forth to be glad amongst the flowers. As they
looked across the sea they marked a ship drawing near the land, rising
and falling upon the waves. Very fearful was the Queen thereat, for
the vessel came to anchorage, though there was no helmsman to direct
her course. The dame's face became sanguine for dread, and she turned
her about to flee, because of her exceeding fear. Her maiden, who was
of more courage than she, stayed her mistress with many comforting
words. For her part she was very desirous to know what this thing
meant. She hastened to the shore, and laying aside her mantle, climbed
within this wondrous vessel. Thereon she found no living soul, save
only the knight sleeping fast within the pavilion. The damsel looked
long upon the knight, for pale he was as wax, and well she deemed
him dead. She returned forthwith to the Queen, and told her of this
marvel, and of the good knight who was slain.

"Let us go together on the ship," replied the lady. "If he be dead we
may give him fitting burial, and the priest shall pray meetly for his
soul. Should he be yet alive perchance he will speak, and tell us of
his case."

Without more tarrying the two damsels mounted on the ship, the lady
before, and her maiden following after. When the Queen entered in the
pavilion she stayed her feet before the bed, for joy and grief of what
she saw. She might not refrain her eyes from gazing on the knight,
for her heart was ravished with his beauty, and she sorrowed beyond
measure, because of his grievous hurt. To herself she said, "In a bad
hour cometh the goodly youth." She drew near the bed, and placing her
hand upon his breast, found that the flesh was warm, and that the
heart beat strongly in his side. Gugemar awoke at th