The Geste of Duke Jocelyn Jeffery Farnol The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Geste of Duke Jocelyn, by Jeffery Farnol #5 in our series by Jeffery Farnol Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the header without written permission. Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is important information about your specific rights and restrictions in how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. **Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** **eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** *****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** Title: The Geste of Duke Jocelyn Author: Jeffery Farnol Release Date: May, 2005 [EBook #8165] [Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] [This file was first posted on June 24, 2003] Edition: 10 Language: English Character set encoding: ASCII *** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GESTE OF DUKE JOCELYN *** Produced by Ted Garvin & the Online Distributed Proofreading Team THE GESTE OF DUKE JOCELYN by Jeffery Farnol with illustrations in color by Eric Pape Copyright, 1920, BT LITTLE, BBOWN, AND COMPANY. All rights reserved Published September, 1920 Norwood Press Set up and electrotyped by J. S. Cushing Co. Norwood, Mass., U.S.A. My GILLIAN, thou child that budding woman art For whom to-day and yesterday lie far apart Already thou, my dear, dost longer dresses wear And bobbest in most strange, new-fangled ways thy hair; Thou lookest on the world with eyes grown serious And rul'st thy father with a sway imperious Particularly as regards his socks and ties Insistent that each with the other harmonise. Instead of simple fairy-tales that pleased of yore Romantic verse thou read'st and novels by the score And very oft I've known thee sigh and call them "stuff" Vowing of love romantic they've not half enough. Wherefore, like fond and doting parent, I Will strive this want romantic to supply. I'll write for thee a book of sighing lover Crammed with ROMANCE from cover unto cover; A book the like of which 't were hard to find Filled with ROMANCE of every sort and kind. I'll write it as the Gestours wrote of old, In prose, blank-verse, and rhyme it shall be told. And GILLIAN-- Some day perhaps, my dear, when you are grown A portly dame with children of your own You'll gather all your troop about your knee And read to them this Geste I made for thee. ILLUSTRATIONS "Nobles of Brocelaunde, salute your Duchess Yolande" They saw afar the town of Canalise "Brave soldier, I do thank thee well!" she sighed "Hush, poor Motley!" whispered the maid. With mighty bound, bold Robin leaping came The long blades whirled and flashed PRELUDE Long, long ago when castles grim did frown, When massy wall and gate did 'fend each town; When mighty lords in armour bright were seen, And stealthy outlaws lurked amid the green And oft were hanged for poaching of the deer, Or, gasping, died upon a hunting spear; When barons bold did on their rights insist And hanged or burned all rogues who dared resist; When humble folk on life had no freehold And were in open market bought and sold; When grisly witches (lean and bony hags) Cast spells most dire yet, meantime, starved in rags; When kings did lightly a-crusading fare And left their kingdoms to the devil's care-- At such a time there lived a noble knight Who sweet could sing and doughtily could fight, Whose lance thrust strong, whose long sword bit full deep With darting point or mighty two-edged sweep. A duke was he, rich, powerful--and yet Fate had on him a heavy burden set, For, while a youth, as he did hunt the boar, The savage beast his goodly steed did gore, And as the young duke thus defenceless lay, With cruel tusk had reft his looks away, Had marred his comely features and so mauled him That, 'hind his back, "The ugly Duke" folk called him-- My daughter GILLIAN interposeth: GILL: An ugly hero? MYSELF: That is so. GILL: An ugly hero, father? O, absurd! Whoever of an "ugly" hero heard? MYSELF: I'll own, indeed, I've come across but few-- GILL: But a duke--and ugly! Father, this from you? MYSELF: My duke is ugly, very, for good reason, As shall appear in due and proper season! GILL: I'm sure no one will want to read him then, For "heroes" all should be most handsome men. So make him handsome, please, or he won't do. MYSELF: By heaven, girl--no, plain heroes are too few! GILL: Then ev'ry one will leave him on the shelf! MYSELF: Why, then, I'll read the poor fellow myself. GILL: I won't! MYSELF: Then don't! Though, I might say, since you're set on it, child, My duke was not so ugly when he smiled-- GILL: Then make him smile as often as you can. MYSELF: I might do that, 't is none so bad a plan. GILL: And the lady--she must be a lady fair. MYSELF: My dear, she's beautiful beyond compare. GILL: Why, then-- MYSELF: My pen! So here and now I do begin The tale of young Duke Jocelyn, For critics, schools, And cramping rules, Heedless and caring not a pin. The title here behold On this fair page enrolled, In letters big and bold, As seemeth fit-- To wit:-- FYTTE I Upon a day, but when it matters not, Nor where, but mark! the sun was plaguy hot Falling athwart a long and dusty road In which same dust two dusty fellows strode. One was a tall, broad-shouldered, goodly wight In garb of motley like a jester dight, Fool's cap on head with ass's ears a-swing, While, with each stride, his bells did gaily ring; But, 'neath his cock's-comb showed a face so marred With cheek, with brow and lip so strangely scarred As might scare tender maid or timid child Unless, by chance, they saw him when he smiled, For then his eyes, so deeply blue and bright, Did hold in them such joyous, kindly light, That sorrow was from heavy hearts beguiled-- This jester seemed less ugly when he smiled. Here, O my Gill, right deftly, in a trice I've made him smile and made him do it--twice. That 't was the Duke of course you've guessed at once Since you, I know, we nothing of a dunce. But, what should bring a duke in cap and bells? Read on and mark, while he the reason tells. Now, 'spite of dust and heat, his lute he strummed, And snatches of a merry song he hummed, The while askance full merrily he eyed The dusty knave who plodded at his side. A bony fellow, this, and long of limb, His habit poor, his aspect swart and grim; His belt to bear a long broad-sword did serve, His eye was bold, his nose did fiercely curve Down which he snorted oft and (what is worse) Beneath his breath gave vent to many a curse. Whereat the Duke, sly laughing, plucked lutestring And thus, in voice melodious did sing: "Sir Pertinax, why curse ye so? Since thus in humble guise we go We merry chances oft may know, Sir Pertinax of Shene." "And chances woeful, lord, also!" Quoth Pertinax of Shene. "To every fool that passeth by These foolish bells shall testify That very fool, forsooth, am I, Good Pertinax of Shene!" "And, lord, methinks they'll tell no lie!" Growled Pertinax of Shene. Then spake the Knight in something of a pet, "Par Dex, lord Duke--plague take it, how I sweat, By Cock, messire, ye know I have small lust Like hind or serf to tramp it i' the dust! Per De, my lord, a parch-ed pea am I-- I'm all athirst! Athirst? I am so dry My very bones do rattle to and fro And jig about within me as I go! Why tramp we thus, bereft of state and rank? Why go ye, lord, like foolish mountebank? And whither doth our madcap journey trend? And wherefore? Why? And, prithee, to what end?" Then quoth the Duke, "See yonder in the green Doth run a cooling water-brook I ween, Come, Pertinax, beneath yon shady trees, And there whiles we do rest outstretched at ease Thy 'wherefores' and thy 'whys' shall answered be, And of our doings I will counsel thee." So turned they from the hot and dusty road Where, 'mid green shade, a rill soft-bubbling flowed, A brook that leapt and laughed in roguish wise, Whereat Sir Pertinax with scowling eyes Did frown upon the rippling water clear, And sware sad oaths because it was not beer; Sighful he knelt beside this murmurous rill, Bent steel-clad head and bravely drank his fill. Then sitting down, quoth he: "By Og and Gog, I'll drink no more--nor horse am I nor dog To gulp down water--pest, I hate the stuff!" "Ah!" laughed the Duke, "'tis plain hast had enough, And since well filled with water thou dost lie To answer thee thy questions fain am I.