SIR WIGOLAIS OF THE WHEEL.*

BY JOHN OXENFORD, ESQ.

CHAPTER I.

HOW SIR WIGOLAIS SET OUT FOR COROTIN, ACCOMPANIED BY A SULKY

DAMSEL.

NOTHING could be more dismal than the commencement of Sir Wigolais' journey to Corotin. By his side rode a damsel on a palfrey, richly attired, and behind her stood a dwarf, who kept his position on the horse by resting his hand somewhat heavily on her fair shoulder. The young lady was deep in the sulks, and all attempts of the knight to draw her into conversation proved miserably abortive. His modest endeavours to do the agreeable were met by a chilly silence, or by still more chilly monosyllables, though certainly no one could be more modest and unpretending than the youthful Sir Wigolais. The dwarf was manifestly annoyed at the very cool manner in which the poor young man was treated, and whenever the horses were at a convenient distance from each other, he did not fail to whisper a good strong lecture into the damsel's

ear.

However, people do not like lectures from their inferiors, and the only effect of the dwarf's wholesome admonitions was to make the lady pout and frown more than ever. Sir Wigolais feigned not to see her illhumour, but it was so very obvious, that he could not persuade himself into cheerfulness, and his spirits sank at last under the ungenial influence.

To explain the cause of the damsel's ill-humour, we must inform our readers, that she had been to the court of King Arthur, at Carlisle, requesting that some gallant knight of the Round Table might be allowed to go to Corotin, and deliver that place from great misery and inconvenience. She had anticipated that the great Sir Gawain would have been chosen, but as it turned out, a young man, named Wigolais, who had come nobody knew whence, and who had that very day been admitted as a member of the Round Table, supplicated King Arthur so hard for leave to undertake the adventure, that the good monarch could not find it in his heart to refuse him. Now Sir Wigolais was not only very young, but extremely young-looking; he had one of those baby-faces that obstinately refuse to look manly at any age, and a chin that seemed destined never to wear a beard. When the Corotinian damsel saw the champion who was to redress her country's wrongs, she looked upon the case as very desperate indeed; and her face, which had not naturally a very pleasing expression, lengthened and soured to that degree, that the good King Arthur winced while he gazed upon it. In vain was it represented to the fair messenger, that Sir Wigolais had proved himself a most worthy knight in a recent tournament, that on that very account he had been admitted to the Round Table, and that he enjoyed the special patronage of Sir Gawain; the damsel looked at the baby-face and mistrusted the

* Founded on a German Volksbuch. March.-VOL. LXXXV. NO. CCCXXXIX.

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statement. In vain was she told that the moral character of Sir Wigolais had been incontestably proved, by the fact of his sitting on an enchanted stone, kept at Carlisle as a sort of touchstone of virtue, whereas many knights, who were considered highly respectable, were unable to approach it within a good arm's-length. She shook her head dubiously, as if she thought manly vigour much more important than moral character, although she did not venture to utter so free a sentiment.

Under these circumstances the expedition to Corotin commenced, as we have said, most dismally. The damsel despising Sir Wigolais, and at the same time being forced to accept him as a companion, perfectly detested his society, and would not be consoled by the opinion of the dwarf, who looked upon him as a promising young man. Finding that his conversational powers were of no avail, Sir Wigolais did a smart thing or two on the road, in the hope of gaining some degree of favour. A strong castle by the road-side gave him the first opportunity of coming out. This was kept by a sturdy old gentleman, who made a point of fighting everybody that asked for shelter. If he vanquished the traveller, he inhospitably dismissed him with a kick, but if the traveller was victorious, he was admitted into the castle, and feasted royally. Sir Wigolais complied so well with the conditions of the establishment, that he not only came off victor, but left the old gentleman a corpse before his own gate. Even this pleasant feat did not elicit a smile from the sulky young lady, though the dwarf clapped his hands from pure enjoyment.

A couple of hulking giants, who were treating a country-girl with great discourtesy, gave Sir Wigolais the next opportunity for displaying his prowess, for he killed one, and sent the other off to Carlisle, together with the maiden, on his making a solemn promise that he would put her under the protection of King Arthur, and tell that monarch who had sent him. A little white dog, with one ear red and the other yellow, that ran across a field, was a third cause of adventure, for the sulky damsel took a fancy to the animal, and Sir Wigolais at once dismounted, picked it up, and placed it before her. She received the gift with a thankless expression of countenance, and rode somewhat in advance, till she met a knight, who recognised the dog, and asked her in a severe tone how she had got it, at the same time proclaiming that he was the rightful owner. This led to a squabble between the stranger and Sir Wigolais, which resulted in the death of the former. The dwarf was beside himself with admiration, and shouted his applause into the ears of the sulky damsel, but she simply shrugged her shoulders, and rode on with the same predilection for monosyllables as before.

As for Wigolais, who was the most kind-hearted creature, he felt somewhat displeased at his own unequivocal successes. Every one of his exploits had ended in a death, however trifling had been the cause of dispute, and he could not help feeling a sting of conscience.

CHAPTER II.

HOW THE SULKY DAMSEL LOST HER SULKINESS.

PRESENTLY they saw at a little distance from the road a damsel on horseback, who rent the air with her wailings.

Let me go and inquire the cause of grief so great, in form so fair?" said Sir Wigolais, to his companion, carefully rounding his period.

"You may go to the -" began the sullen damsel, hastily; but suddenly checking herself, she said, "Go or stay, just as you please; I shall pursue my own path." A reply which the dwarf heard with infinite disgust.

At last Sir Wigolais obtained a more regular permission to address the weeping maiden, and riding up to her he accosted her, asking her the cause of such excessive lamentation.

"In me," said she of the streaming eyes, "you behold the most humiliated person in the universe."

Sir Wigolais bowed for further information.

"Know, oh courteous stranger," she continued, "that the king of a country, called Ireland, of which, perchance, you may have heard, sends every year to these parts a talking parrot and a magnificent palfrey, as a gift to the lady whom adequate judges shall decide to be the finest. Now, when the last horse and parrot came, it was generally supposed"here the maiden dropped her eyes-"it was generally supposed, I say, they would have been awarded to me."

"Indeed!" exclaimed Sir Wigolais, with more surprise than was consistent with politeness; but he saw his error at once, and added--“ Of course-of course."

"On the day preceding that on which the adjudication was to have been made, a strange knight with red hair came among us, with his mistress, and without asking any questions about the matter, put her in possession of the valuable horse and parrot, together with the gold cage in which the latter was confined, and which I forgot to mention." "Proceed," said Sir Wigolais.

"Proceed!" exclaimed the maiden. "Have I not already told the greatest wrong that ever lady endured on this earth ?"

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A somewhat awkward pause ensued, but Sir Wigolais at last said, with a great show of enthusiasm,

"Oh yes, certainly it was a most foul wrong, and the red-haired knight who perpetrated it must have been a

Here his own affair with the white dog unpleasantly crossed his mind, and an uneasy notion that there was a similarity in the two cases, stopped the shower of hard words he was about to bestow on the red-haired knight, and produced another awkward pause.

"With the permission of yonder fair one with the serious countenance, I will gladly restore the horses and the parrot," suddenly shouted Sir Wigolais; and the boldness with which he extricated himself from the conversational difficulty did him infinite credit.

Permission being obtained from the sulky damsel, who gave it with the readiness of indifference rather than of kindness, the whole party proceeded to a plain, where tents were set up, belonging to every nation in the world. Here was the Emperor of Greece-there was the King of Mauritania-here floated the banners of the Marquis of the Illyrian Frontier-there stood the temporary residence of the Exarch of Ravenna. Austrian dukes and Ethiopian counts were there by dozens. The Soldan of Egypt, and the King of Babylon, vied with each other in magnificence. There they all were, met together with that noble disregard of geography and chronology which thrives so well in a purely chivalric atmosphere. The feasting, the love-making, the harp-playing, the singing, the piping, that were going on in all these tents, gave so much life and cheerfulness

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to the brilliant scene, that even the face of the sulky damsel lost some of its rigidity. And when the lady who had been despoiled of the horse and parrot took her new friends into the tent of her cousin, the Queen of Persia, who received them with royal magnificence, the sullen countenance became almost amiable.

After they had sufficiently refreshed themselves, the injured lady took Sir Wigolais, as well as the sulky damsel and the dwarf, to the tent of the red-haired knight, who asked a question so discourteous, that we blush to record it-

"What the d▬▬▬▬ do you and your women want with me?"

Sir Wigolais, who was the very pink of courtesy, said blandly,

"We are here, sir knight, for the sake of your own honour,-if you rightly understand the expression. This Persian princess being manifestly the most-beautiful per-person in this august assembly-hem

The voice of poor Sir Wigolais began to falter as it uttered this startling untruth. The eyes of the red-haired knight met his own, with such a peculiar expression that, in spite of their present hostile position, it was evident they perfectly understood each other.

"The Princess of Persia," resumed Sir Wigolais, "considering herself the most beautiful person in this august assembly-('Stick to that,' muttered he of the red hair)—is therefore entitled to the cock and bull— psha!-I mean the parrot and the horse, of which you have so-so curiously deprived her. The least you can do is to give them back."

The red-haired knight said that he would first see something happen to Sir Wigolais, which we do not wish to transcribe; and it was agreed that on the following morning lists should be set up, and that the matter should be fairly fought out.

We shall not minutely describe the combat that took place; for if we allowed ourselves to go into details of fighting our tale would be longer than the Iliad. Of course spears were shivered, swords drawn, and sparks, elicited by heavy blows, flew from glittering helmets. The whole affair ended with the red-haired knight falling senseless from his horse, while Sir Wigolais bowed gracefully to the throng of admiring spectators.

When he of the red locks was in a condition to hear and to understand, Sir Wigolais told him, as he had previously told the giant, that he must go to Carlisle, and inform King Arthur that he had been vanquished by the "Knight of the Wheel." As he said these words, he struck the wheel which—we have omitted to state-was pictured on his shield.

"As your device is not remarkably ingenious, and there might easily be half-a-dozen with the same bearings, you would perhaps add your name," suggested the red-haired knight. You are evidently a world's wonder, but I should not like the credit of being worsted by some scurvy fellow, who might be a 'knight of the wheel' without a fifth part of

your mettle."

"Say then, Sir Wigolais of the Wheel,'" said the victor, not displeased at the suggestion.

When the red-haired knight had given the horse and the parrot to the Persian princess, and was about to set off, on his way to Carlisle, he took an opportunity of whispering to Sir Wigolais, in this fashion:

"Sir knight, you have had the best of it, but, between ourselves,

you must admit, that as for the Princess of Persia being the handsomest person-"

He did not finish the sentence, but Sir Wigolais, squeezing his hand, looked unutterable things; and again the two knights thoroughly understood each other, and parted the best friends in the world.

A day or two afterwards, the great assembly of nations which had met -goodness knows why-broke up, and the occupants of each tent set off for their own proper homes. The Persian princess magnanimously gave the horse and the parrot to Sir Wigolais, whereupon he courteously presented them to the sulky damsel, who certainly, as far as the question of beauty was concerned, was more entitled to the King of Ireland's gift than the fair one of Persia.

Our three friends now continued their route to Corotin, taking with them the precious gifts; and whether it was that these gifts excessively pleased the damsel's fancy, or that the mighty valour of Sir Wigolais at last made an impression, it is certain that the sulky expression vanished completely from her countenance, and that whenever she addressed the knight she put on a most benignant smile.

"Matters are clearing up," thought the sagacious dwarf.

CHAPTER III.

BEING A MOST USEFUL CHAPTER FOR THE UNDERSTANDING OF THIS

HISTORY.

As they drew near the land of Corotin, the damsel began to look from time to time at Sir Wigolais with a most rueful countenance, and at last fell into a violent fit of weeping.

"Oh, mirror of chivalry!-oh, pride of the Round Table !-oh, lustre of Britain !-oh, flower of King Arthur's court!-too fresh and young to die!"

Thus said the damsel, whereupon Sir Wigolais observed: "Your exclamations are highly flattering, fair lady, but I do not exactly see to what point they tend."

-:

The damsel remained silent for a few moments, during which even the dwarf looked very mournful, and then spake as follows: "Oh, Sir Knight, whom I at first mistrusted on account of your youth, but whom I now admire beyond all mankind on account of your wondrous valour; oh, Sir Knight, to what an adventure have I brought you. I am taking you to a land of horrors never known to any one but the knights who have visited it already, and of those, none, alas, have returned to tell the tale. Learn the cause of our national woes. My late sovereign was King of Corotin, and having the defect of being too easy in his friendships, he protected at his court the accursed Roas of Gloys; nay, even raised that individual to the highest honour."

"You don't say so!" exclaimed Sir Wigolais, with courteous surprise, though he had not the remotest notion who the said Roas was, nor why he was called the "accursed."

"This vile wretch," continued the damsel, "accompanied by certain comrades, second in wickedness to himself alone, crept one night into the chamber of the king, and foully murdered him, together with the best knights of the court, who lay fast asleep. As the king was universally beloved by his faithful subjects, the base Roas was naturally execrated