Peter Ackroyd - The Canterbury Tales – A Retelling

Shortly afterwards the governor, in company with the king, Aella, returned to the castle. What greeted him there, but the sight of his wife with her throat cut? You can imagine his horror and grief. He also found the bloody knife lying in Constance ’s bed. What could she say? She was nearly out of her mind with the horror of it.

The king soon knew all about it. He questioned the governor about Constance, and learned her whole unhappy story – when and where she had been found on the ship, how she had conducted herself, and so on. He was touched by pity for her plight. She seemed too gracious a lady to be overwhelmed by distress and misfortune.

So the innocent woman stood before the king, like a lamb bound for the slaughter. The young knight came forward and swore falsely that she had committed the murder. Yet there was clamour and dissent among the people, who said that they could not believe Constance was guilty of so heinous a crime.

They said that they had seen her virtues every day, and that she had loved Hermengyld like a sister. All of them bore witness to this – except, of course, the young knight who was actually guilty. King Aella himself was deeply impressed with the bearing of Constance, and decided that he would enquire deeper into the matter in order to learn the truth.

Alas, Constance, you have no champion. You have no one to fight your corner. So may Jesus Christ Himself come forward to protect you. It was He who bound Satan, so that the fiend still lies in the darkness where he first fell. It was He who saved humankind. May He now save you! If He does not work a miracle on your behalf, you will be slain as certainly as the coming of tomorrow.

In front of them all Constance fell down on her knees and began to pray. ‘Immortal God, who saved Susannah from her false accusers, protect me! Holy Virgin, lady of mercy, before whose blessed child the archangels sing orisons, look kindly on me. If I am innocent of this crime, then come to my aid. Otherwise I will die.’

Have you not sometimes seen a pale face, among a crowd of those being led to their deaths? Have you not seen the dread and loneliness upon that face? Have you not seen the overwhelming misery? So looked Constance as she stood among the press.

All you queens who live in prosperity, all you duchesses and other ladies, have some pity on the plight of Dame Constance. She is the daughter of an emperor, but she must stand alone. She has no one to advise her or console her. Her royal blood is in danger of being spilled, yet she has no friends to protect her.

King Aella was so full of pity and compassion for her that the tears ran down his cheeks. He was a pagan, but he had a gentle heart. ‘Now someone fetch a holy book,’ he said, ‘and we will see if the knight will swear an oath upon it that Constance murdered Hermengyld. Only then will I mete out justice.’

So a British book of gospels was brought forward. The knight placed his hand upon it and in a confident tone swore that Constance was guilty of the crime. But then all of a sudden a giant hand struck him on the neck so strongly that he fell forward on the floor; the blow had been so overwhelming that, in sight of all those around, his eyes burst out of their sockets.

Then a voice could be heard by all. ‘Foul knight. You have slandered an innocent woman. In the sight of God Almighty, you have defamed a daughter of the Holy Church. You have shamed her. And shall I hold my peace?’

The crowd of people was of course amazed and terrified by the apparition. Those who had harboured suspicions of Constance were deeply repentant. And there was one other consequence of this miracle. Through the intercession of the innocent young woman, Aella and many of his courtiers were converted to the true faith.

The king made sure that the false knight was executed immediately, even as Constance lamented his death out of pity for him. By the guidance of our Saviour, too, Aella took her to be his bride in solemn ceremony. So at last this holy maid, this jewel of virtue, became a queen. Christ be praised.

There was one who did not join in the general chorus of adulation. This was the mother of the king, named Donegild, whose heart was full of malice and treachery. She thought her cursed heart would break in two. She considered it dishonourable for her son to take a foreign wife.

I will now remove the chaff and the straw from this story, and leave you with the shining corn. Why should I describe to you all the pageants and festivities that surrounded the marriage? Why should I sing to you the songs and melodies of the players? Enough is enough. They ate and they drank; they danced and they sang. There is nothing to add.

That night they were escorted to their royal bed, as was right and proper. Even the holiest virgin must do her duty in the darkness. I hope that Constance did hers patiently. There are certain necessary things to be done between man and wife. Saintliness must be put to one side on a solemn occasion such as this.

On that very night Aella begat a son. But soon he had other hot work to do. He had to fight the Scottish enemy, massing on the border, and so he left Constance in the care of a bishop and of the governor while he took his army to the north. Constance was so far gone with child that she kept to her chamber, as meek and as mild as ever. She lay very still, placing herself and her baby in the hands of Christ.

In due time she gave birth to her son, who was baptized with the name of Maurice. The governor of the castle called for a messenger and delivered to him a letter that he had written to Aella in which he gave the king the good news of the birth as well as other timely matters of state. So the messenger took the letter, bowed and went on his way.

This messenger thought that he would do himself a favour by visiting the king’s mother. So he visited her quarters and paid her homage. ‘Ma dame,’ he said, ‘I have some wonderful news. You will be so happy. My Lady Constance has given birth to a male child. There is no doubt about it. The whole realm will be delighted.

‘Look. Here is the letter written by the governor. I have to take it to the king at once. But if you have any other message for your son, confide it to me. I will be your good servant.’ Donegild needed time to think. ‘I have no message for you as yet,’ she said, ‘but stay here overnight. I will write a letter in the morning.’

So the messenger settled down and drank some ale, followed by wine, followed by ale again. While he was sleeping off the drink the governor’s letter was quietly taken from his bag, and a substitute placed there. This was a counterfeit letter, apparently from the governor, very subtly written.

It revealed horrors. The letter stated that Constance had been delivered of a fiend, an unnatural monster bred out of the devil. No one in the castle could endure the sight or sound or smell of it. It was agreed by all that its mother was a witch, sent to the castle by means of spells and sorcery. No one would go near her.

The king’s grief, on reading this letter, was overwhelming. But he said nothing. He kept his sorrow secret, and wrote to the governor of the castle. ‘Let the providence of Christ be my guide. I am now converted to His cause, and must abide His will. Oh Lord, I will obey your commands in everything. Do with me as you wish.’

Then he added, to the governor, ‘Keep this child safe, whether it be foul or fair. And safeguard my wife, too, until I return. Christ will grant me another child, fair and wholesome, when He deems it right.’ Weeping, he sealed and dispatched this letter to the messenger. There was nothing else to be done.

Yet how false a messenger! You are a drunken sot. Your breath is foul, and your limbs are weak. You falter on your legs. You betray every secret entrusted to you. You have lost your mind. You chatter like a parrot. Your face is distorted and awry. Wherever there is a drunk, there is also a loud mouth. You can be sure of it.