Roswal And Lilian

: ROMANCES OF THE MIDDLE AGES
: The Old-fashioned Fairy Book

(From a Scottish Romance of the XVIth Century.)








There lived once, at Naples, a king and queen whose only son, Roswal,

was a paragon of beauty and of valor. The boy, who was as generous as

the day was long, did not at all resemble his father, for the king was

harsh and cruel, and slow to forgive his enemies.



In the prison of the king's palace were confined three noblemen who,

having been suspected of plotting against the crown, were doomed to be

imprisoned for life, and had the most cruel treatment lavished upon them

every day. Roswal could not bear to hear their groans and sighs arising

from the dungeon, and one day conceived the bold project of taking the

prison keys from under the king's pillow while he slept, and setting

the three poor sufferers at liberty. This was done, and Roswal restored

the keys to their place without having been detected.



When it was found that the prisoners had escaped, the king grew

furiously angry. In vain the head jailor and his assistants declared

their innocence in the matter. Their lives would have been instantly

sacrificed to the king's wrath, had not Roswal boldly come forward and

confessed that he alone had freed the prisoners.



At first, the king vowed that Roswal should die for having defied him;

but the prayers of the queen, and perhaps the cool bravery of his son in

confronting him, moved him to relent. He decided to change Roswal's

sentence to banishment for life to a distant court, where he was to be

placed at the service of the King of Bealm, with recommendation to make

a soldier of the lad, henceforth a stranger to his home.



Roswal set out on his journey to the court of Bealm, attended only by

the high-steward, an envious and ambitious man, who hated the prince and

would gladly have done him evil.



The king, at parting with his son, had given him a letter of

introduction to the King of Bealm; and the fond mother had come

secretly to press all the gold and jewels she had, a fortune in

themselves, upon her beloved Roswal. Except for parting with his mother,

Roswal did not feel very sorry to set out thus from home. He longed to

see what marvels the wide world contained, and the memory of the three

brave men he had loosed from their vile bondage cheered him in spite of

his father's anger.



The high-steward was full of projects of his own; and one night, when

they had stopped to rest by the side of a rushing torrent, and Roswal

had plunged into the crystal stream, as he loved to do, the wicked

steward seized him unawares, held him under water till he was half

strangled, and spared his life only on condition that Roswal would

pledge himself to give up all the money and jewels, his letter, his

horse and sword, and furthermore swear never to reveal the affair to

mortal man or woman. Roswal, seeing that he could not help himself,

submitted, and the false steward, laughing maliciously, put spurs to his

horse, leading Roswal's steed behind him, and soon disappeared from view

with all the treasures.



Roswal found himself alone at nightfall in the forest, as hungry as a

hawk, and very much at a loss where to find food and shelter. He

wandered along till he saw a little brown hut, under the branches of a

wide-spreading oak-tree. Here, in the door, sat an old woman knitting,

and Roswal's youth and beauty soon won his way into her affections. She

led him into her house, gave him a good meal of brown bread, eggs, honey

and milk, and a bed of clean straw. Roswal slept as sweetly as ever he

had done on his golden bedstead and his pillow of down at home. Next

day, he offered to work for the old woman, and set to cutting up wood

and binding fagots cheerfully. For several months he lived thus, until

the chamberlain of the King of Bealm chanced to pass that way. Taking a

fancy to the handsome youth, he carried him off to court, where Roswal

was appointed cup-bearer to the king's lovely daughter. His duties were

light, and the princess was kind; so Roswal had little to complain of,

until one day he heard it announced that Prince Roswal, of Naples, was

about to wait upon the King of Bealm and demand his daughter's hand in

marriage.



Roswal pricked up his ears at this, and immediately suspected the

supposed Prince of Naples to be none other than his late travelling

companion, the wicked steward; though, when he heard the princess say to

her maidens that this Prince Roswal was remarkably pushing, considering

that he had only recently presented a letter of introduction to them,

and that, for her part, she could not see what her papa found to fancy

in the young man, Roswal rejoiced. He was delighted to find that the

princess did not care for the impostor. Then he remembered his oath,

never to reveal what the steward had done to him, and his spirits fell

again.



In a day or two, the King of Bealm announced to his daughter that he had

accepted the offer of the King of Naples' son, and that preparations for

their marriage would immediately begin. The princess was very unhappy,

for she had taken a great dislike to the pretended prince. Roswal met

his late servant face to face at one of the bridal feasts, and the eyes

of the steward fell before his scornful gaze. But he knew that he was

safe in trusting Roswal's honor not to tell the secret, and so carried

on his impudent pretence.



A tournament, lasting three days, was announced in honor of the wedding,

which was soon to come off. Roswal found the Princess Lilian in tears

about that time and, while endeavoring to console her, let her know,

without intending it, that he, too, had fallen in love with her. This

made the pretty princess so happy, that she confessed to Roswal she had

loved him secretly ever since he was chosen to be her cup-bearer. She

was sure he was of noble birth from his manners and appearance; and she

urged him to admit that he was as worthy of her rank as of her love.



Roswal was never so sorely tempted to reveal himself! He restrained the

impulse to confess by a strong effort, and, alone and melancholy,

wandered out into the forest--longing for an opportunity to enter the

lists of the tournament and prove his knightly skill before the king and

princess; and while he sat musing thus, there approached him a knight

leading a magnificent white war-horse, on whose saddle was suspended a

suit of splendid armor.



"Prince," said the strange knight, bowing low before him, "put on this

armor, and mount this steed. The tournament has begun, and thou wilt be

in time to prove thy prowess. I await here thy return."



Roswal said he had led his hounds to the forest, intending to hunt a

deer; and so the knight offered to hunt in his absence and keep the game

for him. How his heart beat with joy and pride when he found himself

once more mounted on a noble steed, and clad in knightly armor! Thanking

the stranger fervently, he put spurs to his horse, and galloped off.



Entering the barriers, Roswal overset all who opposed him, and then,

with a tremendous rush, charged at full speed upon the false prince, who

was riding up and down with a great show in the presence of his lady.

The steward recoiled in terror; but the unknown knight as suddenly

checked his horse, turned around, saluted the company with the utmost

grace, and vanished, as he had come, like a meteor.



The company applauded, and the old King of Bealm cried out that he would

give an earldom to find out who was the unknown knight.



That evening, while all the palace was ringing with accounts of the

brave stranger, Roswal came home from the forest, laden with venison and

followed by his hounds.



The Princess Lilian called him to her side, and told him of the events

of the day. It was evident that she wished to inspire Roswal with a

desire to break a lance in her behalf; but he appeared to be

indifferent, and she ended in a burst of tears.



Next day, when Roswal went again with his hounds to the forest, a second

knight, leading a silver-gray war-horse laden with armor, appeared and

repeated the kind offer of the day before. Roswal again entered the

lists, and found the steward impudently advancing to meet him. Roswal

unhorsed half a dozen of the bravest riders, then, with all possible

ease, sent the steward to the ground with such a terrible crash, that

the miserable impostor lay as if dead for some time. The unknown knight

glanced up at the Princess Lilian, and saw a look in her face as if she

suspected him. Then, quickly retiring from the ring, Roswal reappeared

as before, at evening, with the spoils of the day of hunting. Lilian,

who was ready to declare that none other than her handsome young lover

could have been the stranger knight, was much perplexed when she found

Roswal quietly at home engaged in his usual occupations.



On the third day, Roswal was mounted and equipped in a similar manner.

He had a bay horse, a red shield, green armor, and a golden helmet. He

cast down all of the other competitors, broke two of the steward's ribs,

threw a gold ring into the lap of his lady-love, and rode away like a

flash. Returning to the wood, he was met by all three of his friends,

the knights who had helped him. They revealed themselves, and Roswal

found to his delight that they were the three noblemen he had released

from his father's dungeon. They told him they were well aware of all he

had suffered for their sakes, and were prepared to befriend him still

farther.



Next day had been fixed upon for the wedding, and all the court was

called together in a magnificent hall, to see their king bestow their

princess' hand upon the Prince of Naples. Pale and tearful, for she had

cried all night, appeared the princess. She was dressed in white satin,

with a silver train, carried by ten little pages in blue, and on her

head she wore a diadem of immense diamonds. The bridegroom, who had been

patched up by the doctors, sat, anything but cheerful, in a golden chair

beside the king. Behind a group of court ladies and gentlemen stood

Roswal, handsomer than any one present, and looking every inch a

prince, though he wore a plain brown velvet suit, with a gold chain

round his neck, the livery of Princess Lilian's household. Suddenly

visitors were announced, and in came three richly clad strangers,

scattering money among the servants, which made it an easy matter for

them to move along.



The king received them courteously, for he recognized three noblemen of

the kingdom of Naples he had known long before.



"You will be glad to salute your prince," the king said, when he had

greeted them, "and to be present at his nuptials."



The noblemen refused to notice the steward, whose knees knocked together

with fear, for he saw he was on the brink of exposure. The three

strangers looked about them and, espying Roswal, ran up to him, fell on

their knees and kissed his hand, hailing him as the true Prince of

Naples. The steward, in terror, dropped upon his knees before Roswal and

confessed all, drawing from his pocket the casket containing the queen's

jewels, which he had been about to present to his bride. Roswal would

have dealt gently with the contemptible wretch, but the angry old King

of Bealm declared that he and his daughter should not be made sport of,

and the offender live to tell it. So the steward was hanged forthwith,

and Roswal, owning his love for Lilian, was made happy by promise of her

hand--he had already won her heart, as you know.



That same day arrived news of the death of the King of Naples, and the

recall of Roswal to the throne. He was married to Lilian; and it is

certain that no one who had befriended him in his days of poverty was

ever forgotten by King Roswal. The good old woman in the forest was

enriched, the three noblemen were restored to their estates and

fortunes, and Roswal's mother was made happy by a speedy reunion with

her son.



"So Roswal and Lilian sheen,

Lived many years in good liking.

I pray to Jesu, heaven's king,

To grant us heaven to our ending.

Of them I have no more to say:

God send them rest until doom's day!"