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Sir Orfeo
Rich merchants and fine ladies all stared at him, but none could recognise their king!
Often in books – and men of letters will vouch for this – we find tales that were originally intended to be sung and which have lying at their core some strange and wonderful things. Some deal with war and suffering, others with joyful events, some are concerned with treachery and still others with old adventures that happened a long time ago. Some are bawdy and hilarious, and there are many that deal with the supernatural, with the Otherworld. Fairyland. Of all stories, those dealing with fairyland are the best loved. These tales are called 'lais' and came originally from Brittany and it is here they were first found and from where they all derive; they describe adventures that took place in days gone by, in ancient times, which the Bretons made into songs. ...
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He travelled for so long that he came to Winchester, that ancient capital and his own city. But when he got there nobody recognised him! In order to keep himself to himself, Sir Orfeo dared go no further than the edge of the city, and took lodgings with a skinny beggar and his wife. He told them that he was a poor minstrel, asked news of the land and who was in power now. The beggar told Sir Orfeo everything he wanted to know; how their queen had been stolen away to the Otherworld ten years ago and how their king had then disappeared into the forest and nobody knew where he was, and how the steward now wielded power over all the land, and many other things besides.
The next morning, as it approached noon, Sir Orfeo told Eurydice to remain in the cottage; then borrowing the beggar's clothes, he slung his harp on his back and went into the city so that men could see him. Earls and barons, rich merchants and fine ladies all stared at him, but none could recognise their king! 'Lo!' they cried, 'look at that dreadful man! Look at his hair! His beard hangs down to his knees! His skin is like the bark of a tree!'
As he walked down a street, he met his steward and shouted loudly at him: 'Sir steward! he said. 'Have pity, I am a minstrel. A harper. Help me to earn a meal!'
