GREAT marvel it is to think and consider of a thing that I will tell you, and that was told to me in the house of the Comte de Foix at Orthez, by him who gave me to know concerning the battle of Juberot. And I will tell you of this matter, what it was, for since the Squire told me this tale, whereof you shall presently have knowledge, certes I have thought over it a hundred times, and shall think as long as I live. 'Certain it is,' quoth the Squire, 'that the day after the fight at Juberot the Comte de Foix knew of it, whereat men marvelled much how this might be. And all day, on the Sunday and the Monday and the Tuesday following, he made in his castle of Orthez such dull and simple cheer that none could drag a word out of him. All these three days he would not leave his chamber, nor speak to knight or squire, howsoever near him they might be. And when it came to Tuesday at evening, he called his brother, Sir Ernault Guillaume, and said to him in a low voice: '"Our men have fought, whereat I am grieved; for that has befallen them of their journey which I told them before they set out." 'Sir Ernault, who is a right wise knight and of good counsel, knowing well the manner and ways of his brother the Count, held his peace for a little while. Then the Count, willing to show his heart, and weary of his long sadness, spoke again, and louder than before, saying: '"By God, Sir Ernault, it is as I tell you, and shortly we shall have news; for never did the land of Bearn lose so much in one day--no, not these hundred years--as it has lost this time in Portugal." 'Many knights and squires standing round who heard the Count noted these words, and in ten days learned the truth from them who had been in the fight, and who brought tidings, first to the Court, and afterwards to all who would hear them, of what befell at Juberot. Thereby was the Count's grief renewed, and that of all in the country who had lost brothers and fathers, sons and friends, in the fray.' 'Marry!' said I to the Squire, who was telling me his tale, 'and how could the Count know or guess what befell? Gladly would I learn this.' 'By my faith,' said the Squire, 'he knew it well, as appeared.' 'Is he a prophet, or has he messengers who ride at night with the wind? Some art he must have.' Then the Squire began to laugh. 'Truly he must learn by some way of necromancy; we know not here truly how he does it, save by phantasies.' 'Ah, good sir, of these fancies prithee tell me, and I will be grateful. If it is a matter to keep silent, silent will I keep it, and never, while I am in this country, will I open my mouth thereon.' 'I pray you do not, for I would not that any should know I had spoken. Yet others talk of it quietly when they are among their friends.' Thereon he drew me apart into a corner of the castle chapel, and then began his tale, and spoke thus: