sts his men, who are in the company, to serve him,
which they do devotedly. And the king, who would gladly have made peace,
had it been possible, went at once to his son and spoke to him like one
who desires peace and harmony, saying: "Fair son, be reconciled now with
this knight without a fight! He has not come here to disport himself or
to hunt or chase, but he comes in search of honour and to increase his
fame and renown, and I have seen that he stands in great need of rest.
If he had taken my advice, he would not have rashly undertaken, either
this month or the next, the battle which he so greatly desires. If thou
makest over the Queen to him, dost thou fear any dishonour in the deed?
Have no fear of that, for no blame can attach to thee; rather is it
wrong to keep that to which one has no rightful claim. He would gladly
have entered the battle at once, though his hands and feet are not
sound, but cut and wounded." Meleagant answers his father thus: "You are
foolish to be concerned. By the faith I owe St. Peter, I will not take
your advice in this matter. I should deserve to be drawn apart with
horses, if I heeded your advice. If he is seeking his honour, so do I
seek mine; if he is in search of glory, so am I; if he is anxious for
the battle, so am I a hundred times more so than he." "I see plainly,"
says the king, "that thou art intent upon thy mad enterprise, and thou
shalt have thy fill of it. Since such is thy pleasure, to-morrow thou
shalt try thy strength with the knight." "May no greater hardship ever
visit me than that!" Meleagant replies; "I would much rather it were
to-day than to-morrow. Just see how much more downcast I am than is
usual! My eyes are wild, and my face is pale! I shall have no joy or
satisfaction or any cause for happiness until I am actually engaged with
him."

(Vv. 3491-3684.) The king understands that further advice and prayers
are of no avail, so reluctantly he leaves his son and, taking a good,
strong horse and handsome arms, he sends them to him who well deserves
them, together with a surgeon who was a loyal and Christian man. There
was in the world no more trusty man, and he was more skilled in the
cure of wounds than all the doctors of Montpeilier. [419] That night
he treated the knight as best he could, in accordance with the king's
command. Already the news was known by the knights and damsels, the
ladies and barons of all the country-side, and all through the night
until daybre