[5]. As for the hall behind the gate, nothing seemed to stir inside.
The poor lass was desperate. There was a boat waiting for her in the nearby bay; and it was there she turned, still holding the child in her arms. She set the sail[6], and the boat pulled out, a mere chip in the terrible storm. Soon it could not be seen anymore behind the thick veil of the shower.
A few hours later, nevertheless, the storm subsided. Morning came fresh and clean, with the autumn sun shining from behind the light mist. The sea waves looked tamed now; but no sign of the night visitation were there to find.
Soon after waking up, the young Lord Gregory went to tell his mother of the weird dream he saw that night.
“You told me to get back to bed, mother, but I was sure I heard a female voice, young, melodic and sorrowful, at our gates.”
“Oh my foolish son!” the old lady exclaimed, “There was no one at night. I told you to sleep on and bother yourself not.”
“You deceive me, mother!” young lord protested. “I dreamt of the lass I love who came here, bearing my child in her white, slender arms.”
“My son, this was but a beggar who foolishly claimed to be your wife. What she wanted was to deceive you, to bind you with the bounds of the promise you aren’t obliged to keep. I told her to get away and to seek refuge[7] for herself and her shame at the bottom of the sea. That wearisome girl must be lying down there now.”
“Now my curse on you, mother!” cried the lord, horrified. “Sure I heard the girl come knocking to my door, and you didn’t let her in! Now, go and order three horses to be saddled for me: the black, the brown and the bay, saddle me the best horses in my stable; and I promise I’ll range over mountains, over wide valleys and over the sea shore till I find the girl.”
And so he rushed away from Roch Royal to find the cold body of the drowned lass and to fall dead by her side.
The Dream of Maxen Wledig[8]
The Emperor Maxen Wledig was the most powerful Caesar who had ever ruled Europe from the City of the Seven Hills[9]. He was an incredibly handsome man, tall and strong and skilled in all manly exercises; besides, he was gracious and friendly to all his vassals and tributary kings[10], so that he was universally loved. One day he went hunting, and was accompanied on his expedition down the Tiber valley by thirty two vassal kings, with whom he enjoyed the sport heartily. At noon the heat was intense, they were far from Rome, and all were tired. The emperor suggested they made a stop, and they dismounted to take rest. Maxen lay down to sleep with his head on a shield, and soldiers and attendants stood around making a shelter for him from the sun by a roof of shields hung on their spears.