at bay, and their
master, fitting an arrow to his bow, loosed the shaft at her so that
she was wounded above the hoof and brought to earth. But the
treacherous arrow, glancing, returned to Gugemar and wounded him
grievously in the thigh.

As he lay on the earth faint and with his senses almost deserting him,
Gugemar heard the doe speak to him in human accents:

"Wretch who hast slain me," said she, "think not to escape my
vengeance. Never shall leech nor herb nor balm cure the wound which
fate hath so justly inflicted upon thee. Only canst thou be healed by
a woman who loves thee, and who for that love shall have to suffer
such woe and sorrow as never woman had to endure before. Thou too
shalt suffer equally with her, and the sorrows of ye twain shall be
the wonder of lovers for all time. Leave me now to die in peace."

Gugemar was in sore dismay at hearing these words, for never had he
sought lady's love nor had he cared for the converse of women. Winding
his horn, he succeeded in attracting one of his followers to the spot,
and sent him in search of his companions. When he had gone Gugemar
tore his linen shirt in pieces and bound up his wound as well as he
might. Then, dragging himself most painfully into the saddle, he rode
from the scene of his misadventure at as great a pace as his injury
would permit of, for he had conceived a plan which he did not desire
should be interfered with.

Riding at a hand-gallop, he soon came in sight of tall cliffs which
overlooked the sea, and which formed a natural harbour, wherein lay a
vessel richly beseen. Its sails were of spun silk, and each plank and
mast was fashioned of ebony. Dismounting, Gugemar made his way to the
shore, and with much labour climbed upon the ship. Neither mariner nor
merchant was therein. A large pavilion of silk covered part of the
deck, and within this was a rich bed, the work of the cunning
artificers of the days of King Solomon. It was fashioned of cypress
wood and ivory, and much gold and many gems went to the making of it.
The clothes with which it was provided were fair and white as snow,
and so soft the pillow that he who laid his head upon it, sad as he
might be, could not resist sleep. The pavilion was lit by two large
waxen candles, set in candlesticks of gold.

As the knight sat gazing at this splendid couch fit for a king he
suddenly became aware that the ship was moving seaward. Already,
indeed, he was far from land, and at the sight he