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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a45c5d7 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #55765 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/55765) diff --git a/old/55765-0.txt b/old/55765-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index dda2d17..0000000 --- a/old/55765-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,7753 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Faery Queen and Her Knights, by Alfred -John Church - - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - - -Title: The Faery Queen and Her Knights - Stories Retold from Edmund Spenser - - -Author: Alfred John Church - - - -Release Date: October 17, 2017 [eBook #55765] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - - -***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FAERY QUEEN AND HER KNIGHTS*** - - -E-text prepared by Juliet Sutherland, Stephen Hutcheson, and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) - - - -Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this file - which includes the original lovely illustrations in color. - See 55765-h.htm or 55765-h.zip: - (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/55765/55765-h/55765-h.htm) - or - (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/55765/55765-h.zip) - - -Transcriber’s note: - - Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_). - - - - - -THE FAERY QUEEN -AND HER KNIGHTS - -THE MACMILLAN COMPANY -NEW YORK · BOSTON · CHICAGO -ATLANTA · SAN FRANCISCO - -MACMILLAN & CO., Limited -LONDON · BOMBAY · CALCUTTA -MELBOURNE - -THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, Ltd. -TORONTO - - -[Illustration: The Slaying of the Dragon.] - - -THE FAERY QUEEN AND HER KNIGHTS - -Stories Retold from Edmund Spenser - -by the - -Rev. ALFRED J. CHURCH, M.A. - -Author of “Stories from Homer” - -With Illustrations in Colour - - - - - - -New York -The Macmillan Company -1909 -All rights reserved - -Copyright, 1909, -By the Macmillan Company. -Set up and electrotyped. Published October, 1909. - -Norwood Press -J. S. Cushing Co.—Berwick & Smith Co. -Norwood, Mass., U.S.A. - - - - -CONTENTS - - CHAP. PAGE - I. The Red-Cross Knight 1 - II. Archimage and Duessa 7 - III. The Fortunes of Una 16 - IV. Of what befell at the House of Pride 24 - V. How the Red-Cross Knight leaves the Castle of Pride 29 - VI. The Lady Una and the Satyrs 35 - VII. Of the Giant Orgoglio 42 - VIII. Of the Deeds of Prince Arthur 49 - IX. Of the House of Holiness 55 - X. Of the Slaying of the Dragon 64 - XI. Of Sir Guyon and the Lady Medina 71 - XII. How Sir Guyon came into Great Peril 77 - XIII. Of Two Pagan Knights 89 - XIV. Of Queen Acrasia 96 - XV. Britomart 102 - XVI. Of Merlin’s Magic Mirror 109 - XVII. How Britomart took to Arms 117 - XVIII. Sir Scudamore and Amoret 127 - XIX. Of Sir Paridell and Others 135 - XX. The Story of Canacé and the Three Brothers 142 - XXI. The Story of Florimell 153 - XXII. Of the False Florimell 160 - XXIII. Sir Satyrane’s Tournament 168 - XXIV. Of Florimell’s Girdle 176 - XXV. Of Britomart and Artegall 180 - XXVI. Of the Fortunes of Amoret 190 - XXVII. Of Sir Artegall and the Knight Sanglier 197 - XXVIII. Of Other Adventures of Sir Artegall 202 - XXIX. Sir Artegall does Justice 214 - XXX. Radigund 221 - XXXI. How Sir Artegall was Delivered 233 - XXXII. Of the Knave Malengin 247 - XXXIII. Of the Lady Belgé 252 - XXXIV. Of Sir Artegall and Grantorto 263 - XXXV. Of Sir Calidore and the Lady Briana 270 - XXXVI. Of the Valour of Tristram 278 - XXXVII. Sir Calepine and the Lady Serena 286 - XXXVIII. Of Sir Calidore and Pastorella 294 - XXXIX. The End of Sir Calidore’s Quest 301 - - - - - LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS - - - The Slaying of the Dragon _Frontispiece_ - FACING PAGE - The Red-Cross Knight and Sansfoy 10 - The Lady Una and the Lion 20 - Sir Guyon and the Men in Bestial Shapes 100 - Agapé approaching the Dwelling of the Fates 142 - Sir Scudamore overthrown by Britomart 184 - Sir Artegall and the Saracen 204 - Prince Arthur slaying the Seneschal 256 - - - - - THE FAERY QUEEN - AND HER KNIGHTS - - - - - CHAPTER I - THE RED-CROSS KNIGHT - - -Once upon a time there might have been seen a gentle Knight, riding -across the plain. He was clad in armour of proof, and on his arm he -carried a silver shield. A shield it was that brave men had carried -before him, for there were great dints upon it, which were as a witness -of great fights that had been fought. Now the Knight himself had never -yet been in battle; but he seemed as one who could bear himself bravely, -so well did he sit upon his horse, and so stout of limb he was. On his -breast he wore a cross, red as blood, in token that he was vowed to -serve the Lord Christ, who had died for him; and on his shield was yet -another cross, to be as it were a sign that this service should be a -defence to him in all dangers. Somewhat sad of look he was, not as -though he had fear in his heart, but rather as one upon whom had been -laid the burden of a great task. And such, in truth, there was, for -Queen Gloriana had sent him upon a great enterprise, and all his heart -was full of the thought of how he should best accomplish it. And the -task was this—to slay the Great Dragon. - -Beside the Knight a lady was riding on an ass as white as snow. Very -fair she was; but she hid her fairness under a veil, which was brought -low over her face. She was clad also in a garment of black; and she, -too, was somewhat sad of look, nor, indeed, without cause. She came of a -royal stock, being descended from ancient kings and queens, who had held -wide sway in their land until this same Dragon had driven out their -ancient house and had cruelly wasted all their realm. The third of this -company was a Dwarf, who lagged behind, wearied, it may be, with the -weight of the bag in which he bore this fair lady’s gear. - -While the three, to wit the Knight, and the Lady, and the Dwarf, passed -on, the sky was suddenly covered with clouds, and there began to fall a -great storm of rain, so that they were fain to seek some shelter. -Gladly, then, did they espy a wood hard by that promised, so thickly -grown it was, a shelter from the rain. Tall were the trees and spreading -wide with shady branches, so that neither sun by day nor star by night -could pierce through. And all about were paths and ways, worn as by the -treading of many feet, which seemed to lead to the abodes of men—a -fairer place of shelter, as it seemed, there scarce could be. So they -passed along, the birds singing sweetly the while; overhead were trees -of many kinds, trees of the forest and of the orchard, the cedar and the -oak, and the elm with the vine clinging to its stem, the yew for bows, -and the birch for arrows, and the fruitful olive. So fair was the place, -and so full of delights, that the travellers took no heed of the way by -which they went. So it came to pass that they strayed from the path by -which they first entered the wood, nor could they win to it again when -once they had left it, so many were the ways and so like the one to the -other. After a time, when they had taken counsel together, it seemed -best to choose the way which seemed most trodden by the feet of -travellers, as being the likeliest to lead to a certain end. When they -had followed this awhile, they came to a great cave, deep in the very -thicket of the wood. Here the Knight sprang from his horse, and gave to -the Dwarf his spear, thinking that he should not need it. But his sword -he kept. - -Then said the Lady Una, for that was her name: “Be not overbold, Sir -Knight; there may be mischief here of which you know nothing, peril -which gives no sign of itself, even as a fire which burns without smoke; -hold back, I pray you, till you have made some trial of the place.” - -The Knight made reply: “Fair lady, it were a shame to fall back for fear -of a shadow. The cave, doubtless, is dark, but where there is courage -there is not wanting a light for the feet.” - -Then said the Lady again: “Nay, nay, Sir Knight; I know this place by -repute, though I thought not of it before. This wood in which we are -lost is the Wood of Wandering; this cave which you see before you is the -Den of Error, a monster, hateful both to God and man. Beware, therefore, -beware!” And the Dwarf cried out aloud in his fear: “Fly, Sir Knight, -fly, this is no place for mortal man.” - -But the Knight would not be persuaded. He stepped into the cave, and the -light of day, shining from without on his armour, showed him dimly the -monster that was within. Hideous it was to behold, half a serpent and -half a woman, and all as foul as ever creature was, upon the earth or -under it. All the length of the cave she lay, her tail wound in many -coils; and in every coil there was a deadly sting. And all round her was -a brood of young ones. Many different shapes they had, but hideous all. -And as soon as the light from the Knight’s armour glimmered through the -darkness, they fled for shelter to the mouth of their dam. - -The monster, wakened from her sleep, curled her tail about her head, and -rushed to the cavern’s mouth, but, seeing one armed from top to toe in -shining mail, would have turned again. But the Knight leaped at her, -fierce as a lion leaps upon his prey, and barred her backward way with -his sword. First she darted at him her great tail, and threatened him -with the deadly sting that lay in it; but he, not one whit dismayed, -aimed at her head a mighty blow. Her head it wounded not, but glanced on -to the neck with force so great that for a while the great beast was -stunned. Then, coming to herself, she raised her body high from the -ground, and leaped upon the Knight’s shield, and wrapped his body round -with huge folds. - -Then Una, seeing in how sore plight he was, cried out: “Now show, Sir -Knight, what you are. Put out all your force, and, above all things, -back your force with faith, and be not faint. Strangle this monster, or -surely she will strangle you!” - -Greatly was his heart stirred within him with grief and anger, and, -knitting all his strength together, he gripped the creature by the -throat so mightily that she was constrained to loosen the bonds which -she had cast about him. And yet, it had well-nigh cost him dear to come -so close to the monster, so foul she was. And of this foulness the worst -was this, that she caused to come forth out of her mouth, as in a flood, -the brood which had taken shelter therein at the first. Serpents they -were, like to their dam, small indeed, but full of venom, and they -swarmed over him, twining themselves about his arms and legs, so that he -could not strike a blow nor even move. So, in some still eventide, a -shepherd, sitting to watch his flock, is suddenly assailed by a cloud of -gnats; feeble creatures they are, and slight their sting, but they -suffer him not to rest. The Red-Cross Knight was in a strait more dire, -for these evil creatures had power to do him a more grievous harm. But -he thought to himself, “Shall I be vanquished in this fashion?” He was -somewhat moved by the danger wherein he stood, but more ashamed that he -should be overcome in so foul a fashion. So, resolved in his heart that -he would put all his strength into a stroke, either to win or to lose, -he gathered himself together, and struck the monster with a blow so -fierce that he shore the head from the body, and she fell dead upon the -ground. - -Then said the Lady Una: “Well, indeed, have you carried yourself, Sir -Knight. Surely you were born under a lucky star, seeing that you have -overcome so terrible a foe. You are worthy of these arms wherewith you -are clad. So is your first adventure brought to a good result. God grant -that you have many such in the time to come, and that they may be -brought to as happy an ending.” - -Then the Knight sprang upon his horse, and the Lady Una mounted again -her ass, and the Dwarf followed as before. And now they kept with -steadfast purpose to the one way which they saw to be most trodden, -turning neither to the right nor to the left, how fair soever the path -might seem. So at last they came to the outskirts of the Wandering Wood, -and journeyed once more across the plain. - - - - - CHAPTER II - ARCHIMAGE AND DUESSA - - -So the two, the Knight and the Lady, rode on, the Dwarf following as -before. After a while they chanced to meet an old man by the road. He -was clothed in black and barefooted, and he had a long white beard, and -a book was hanging from his belt. A very wise old man he seemed, sober -and even somewhat sad, and as he went along he seemed to be praying; and -now and again he would beat upon his breast, saying, “God be merciful to -me a sinner!” He made a humble reverence to the Knight, and the Knight -in his courtesy made his salute, and said: “Sir, do you know of any -adventure that a Christian man may undertake?” - -“My son,” said the old man, “how should one who lives in his cell and -tells his beads and does penance for his sins know aught of wars and -enterprises by which glory may be won? Nevertheless, I can tell of a -very evil man who dwells in these forests and wastes all the -country-side.” - -“Ah!” cried the Knight, “it is for such an adventure, the setting right -of wrong, that I seek. Bring me to this villain’s dwelling and I will -reward you well.” - -“Willingly,” said the old man, “will I guide you thither, but the way is -long and painful.” - -“And surely,” said the Lady Una, “you are wearied with your late -encounter. I take it that he who lacks rest lacks strength, however -stout of limb he be. Take your rest then with the sun, and begin your -new work with the new day.” - -“This is wise counsel, Sir Knight,” said the old man, “and wise counsel -ever wins the day. The day is far spent; come, then, and take such poor -entertainment as my home can give.” - -With this the Knight was well content. So they followed the old man to -his dwelling. It was a lowly hermitage, in a valley, close to the -forest, with a chapel hard by, and by this chapel a brook crystal clear. -Humble was their fare, but the rest after the day’s toil made it sweet -enough, as also did the old man’s talk, for he discoursed of many things -and many men, saints and popes, and the great deeds which they had done. -Then, as the night drew on and sleep began to fall upon their eyes, he -showed them the places where they should lodge for the night. - -Now this old man, who seemed so pious and good, with his long white -beard, and his prayers, and his beating of his breast, was really a -wicked magician. So soon as he had taken his guests to their lodgings, -he went to his study, where he kept his books of charms with other -contrivances of his art, and taking one of these books from the shelf on -which it stood, opened it, and began to mutter some dreadful words which -it were a great sin for anyone to write or read. With these he brought -up from their dwelling-place in the lower parts of the earth a very -legion of evil spirits. To these he gave a part of his evil work to do, -and some of this work he kept to himself; and the work was this: To -cheat the hearts of those whom he wished to deceive with false dreams -and visions. What these were, it is best not to tell: let it be enough -to say that they wrought such doubts concerning the Lady Una in the -heart of the Red-Cross Knight that, as soon as the morning dawned, he -rose from his bed, and clothed himself with all haste, and crying for -the Dwarf that he should bring him his horse, rode away as fast as the -beast could carry him. - -He had not ridden many miles before there met him a paynim knight. A -tall warrior and a strong he was, armed from top to toe, and carrying a -great shield on which were written in scarlet letters the words “_Sans -Foy_,” which, being interpreted, mean “Without Faith.” With him there -rode a fair lady, clad also in scarlet, with ornaments of gold and -necklaces of coral, and on her head a Persian cap set round with crowns -of gold. Her horse also had gay trappings, and her bridle was set with -bells of gold, which tinkled bravely as she rode. So soon as she saw the -Red-Cross Knight she said to her companion, “See now, here comes your -enemy; make ready.” - -No sooner had she spoken, but he stuck spurs in his horse, and rode at -the Red-Cross Knight. Nor did the knight hold back from the fray, for he -also put his spear in rest and charged. So the two met fully and fairly, -with so fierce a shock that the two horses stood, as it were, struck to -stone, and the riders were borne backwards in their saddles, holding -each of them in his hand his broken spear. Then the Saracen drew his -sword from the scabbard, and addressed himself again to the fray. So did -the Christian also; blow for blow did they deal one to the other, till -the sparks flew from their shields, and when they chanced to strike -home, the blood flowed forth and dyed the earth under their feet. After -a while cried the Saracen: “Now curse upon that Cross which keeps your -body from harm! You had been dead long since but for that magic power. -For all that, I bid you now beware, and keep safe your head if it may -be.” - -So saying, he dealt a blow so fierce that it shore away half the -Christian’s crest, yet glancing down upon the shield harmed him no more. -Yet was it not struck in vain, for it roused him of the Red Cross to -such rage that he made a more than like reply. Full on the Saracen’s -helmet he dealt his stroke. Right through the steel it passed, and cleft -the head, so that the Saracen fell a dead man from his horse. - -When the lady saw her champion fall, not a moment did she stay to see -how it had fared with him, either to tend his wounds, or to weep for his -death, but fled away as fast as her horse could carry her. Then the -Red-Cross Knight, crying to the Dwarf that he should pick up the dead -man’s shield to be a memorial of the fight, rode after her, and -overtaking her, bade her halt: “You have no cause to fear, fair lady,” -he said. - -[Illustration: The Red Cross Knight and Sansfoy.] - -Then she, turning back, cried aloud: “Fair Sir, have mercy on an unhappy -woman!” - -Much was he moved to see her humbleness, for she was beautiful to look -on, and richly clad, as one of noble birth might be. “Lady,” said he, -“be of good heart. It pitieth me to see you in such distress; tell me -now who you are, and whence you come, and who was this your champion?” - -“Sir,” she answered, weeping the while, “I have suffered much from evil -fortune. I was the only daughter of an emperor, who had wide dominion -over the land of the West, setting his throne where flows the famous -stream of Tiber. Being such, I was betrothed in my early youth to the -only son and heir of a most wise and mighty king. Never surely was -prince so fair and faithful as he, never one so gentle and debonair. But -alas! ere the day appointed for our marriage came, my lord fell into the -hands of cruel enemies, and was most foully slain. When this ill news -came to me, I said to myself: ‘Now will I at least do due honour to the -dear body of him whom I loved.’ So I set forth from my father’s house -upon this quest. Long did I wander over the world, a virgin widow, nor -did I find that for which I sought. At last I chanced to meet this -Saracen, who now lies dead upon the plain. He constrained me to go with -him, and would fain have won me for his wife, but I ever said him nay. -And now he lies dead. An evil man he was, one of an evil brotherhood of -three—Sansloy, the eldest; Sansjoy, the youngest; and this Sansfoy, of -middle age between the two.” - -“Be contented, fair lady,” answered the Knight; “you have done well. You -have found a new friend and lost an old foe. Friend, be he ever so new, -is better, I trow, than foe, new or old.” - -So the two rode on, he making merry with gay talk, as became a courteous -knight, and she, with much modest show of bashfulness. After a while -they came in their journey to two fair trees, which spread their -branches across the road. Lovely trees they seemed, and fair was the -shade which they cast. Yet was the place held in ill-repute of all the -country-side; never did shepherd sit beneath them to rest or play upon -his oaten pipe, for all men held it to be unlucky ground. But of this -the good Knight knew nothing, so, the sun being now high in heaven, and -of so fierce a heat that a man might scarcely abide it, he dismounted -and bade the lady do likewise, so that they might rest awhile, and anon, -in the cool of the evening, might pursue their journey. So the two sat -them down and talked. - -Now the Knight, being in a merry mood, said to himself: “Surely, this is -the fairest of women; it is meet that she should be crowned.” So saying, -he plucked a branch which he would have shaped into a garland for the -lady’s head. Then, lo! from the place where the branch had been plucked -came trickling drops of blood, and there issued forth a lamentable voice -which said: “Stranger! Tear not in this cruel fashion the tender human -limbs which are covered by the bark of this tree. Fly also from the -place, fly, lest haply the same fate should come upon you as came upon -me in this place, both on me and on the dear lady also who was my love.” - -Much was the Knight astonished to hear such words, and for a while he -stood speechless. Then he said: “What ghost is this from the world -below, what wandering spirit that talks in this strange fashion?” - -Then there came this answer: “No ghost am I from the nether world, nor -wandering spirit of the air. I was a man, Fradubio by name, as now I am -a tree, being charmed by the arts of a wicked witch. But I am yet a man, -for I feel the winter cold and the summer heat in these branches, even -as a man might feel.” - -Then said the Knight: “Tell me now, Fradubio, be you tree or man, how -you came to suffer in this fashion. It is good for a man to tell his -trouble; he who hides it in his heart makes his griefs to be twice as -great.” - -Then did Fradubio tell his tale, “Know, stranger, that I suffer this -trouble through the arts of a false sorceress, Duessa by name; nor I -only, for she has brought many knights into a like evil case. In my -youth, which indeed is not long passed, I loved a fair lady, whom you -may see, not indeed in the fashion of a lady, but as yonder tree which -joins its branches with these. Once upon a time, when I was riding -abroad with her, I chanced to meet a knight, who also had a fair lady -for a companion. A fair lady I called her, and so she seemed, but she -was in truth this same false witch Duessa. Said the strange Knight: ‘I -do declare that this lady is the fairest dame in all the world, and this -I will make good with my sword and spear against all the world.’ For the -witch had cast her spells over him and deceived him. And when I put -forth the same challenge for my own lady, we fell to fighting, and he -fared so ill, that he fell by my hand. - -“So now there were two fair ladies, for so it seemed, Fraelissa, who was -fair in truth, and Duessa, who by her wicked arts had made herself so to -seem. And I knew not to which I should give the prize of beauty, for it -seemed the due of each. But while I doubted, this wicked witch raised by -evil arts such a mist as made Fraelissa’s face to lose all its fairness. -Which when she had accomplished, she cried: ‘See now how this false dame -has lost her beauty, for indeed it was but borrowed. Many has she -deceived in time past, even as now she has deceived you.’ When I heard -this, I would fain have killed the fair lady that had been my true love. -But this the false Duessa, feigning compassion, would not suffer. Only -with her magic arts she changed her into that tree which you see yonder. - -“Now you must know that for every witch, be she as crafty as she may, -there is one day in every year when she is constrained to take her true -shape. And on this day I chanced to see Duessa as she was in truth, old -and foul of hue, fouler than one had thought woman could be. Nor did she -fail to perceive that I had discovered the truth, though indeed I sought -to bear myself as before, having it in my mind secretly to escape, and -fly from her company. So she practised upon me the same wicked arts that -she had used with my Fraelissa, changing me into the semblance of a -tree. And here we stand, banished from the company of men, and wasting -weary days and nights.” - -“But,” said the Knight, “how long shall this endure? What is the -appointed end of your sufferings?” - -“We must here abide till we shall be bathed in a living well,” Fradubio -made answer. - -“Can I find this same well?” asked the Knight. - -“That shall be as the Fates may decree,” said Fradubio. - -All this Duessa—who called herself Fidessa—heard, and knew it for truth. -She well-nigh fainted for fear; but the time for the discovering of her -falseness was not yet. - - - - - CHAPTER III - THE FORTUNES OF UNA - - -While the Red-Cross Knight was thus faring, the Lady Una was not a -little troubled that she should have been so left by her champion. Never -did she cease to search for him, wandering the while over plain, and -forest, and mountain, and not one whit afraid, however desolate they -were. - -On a certain day she lighted off the ass, on which she was wont to ride, -and laid herself down to rest in a solitary place, under the shadow of a -tree; she took the covering from her head, and laid aside her black -cloak; her faithful beast grazed hard by, for there was much grass in -the place. As she lay, there rushed out of the wood with which the -meadow was circled about a furious lion. Wild he was with hunger, and -was hunting for prey. And when he saw the royal maid, he ran greedily at -her with open mouth, as if he would have devoured her; but when he came -near, and saw what manner of maid she was, all his rage departed from -him. He kissed her weary feet, and licked with his tongue her lily -hands, crouching down before her as if to show himself her servant. At -the first sight of the beast the Lady Una was not a little afraid, but -when she saw how gently he bore himself, she sighed and said: “See now, -how this lion, who is the king of the forest, forgets his hunger and his -rage in pity of my sad state, while he who was my champion leaves me to -wander alone.” So she spake till she could speak no more for very tears, -and the lion meanwhile stood looking upon her. Then—for the lady was of -a brave spirit—she shut up her sorrows in her heart, and mounted on her -steed again, and set out once more upon her quest. It was a long and -weary way which she went, through divers places, where there were no -inhabitants, and still the lion went with her, ready to guard her -against all dangers. While she slept, he watched over her, and when she -awaked he awaited her command, watching her eyes so that he might -discern her pleasure. - -After long journeying, in which they saw no sign of the presence of man, -they came to a place which, from the wearing of the grass, seemed to be -trodden by human feet. And in no long time the lady espied a woman, who -was following the path with slow steps, and carrying on her head a -pitcher of water. The lady cried to her, “Tell me now, my friend, -whether there may be any dwelling near to hand, where I may rest -awhile?” But the woman answered her never a word, seeming as if she -could neither understand nor speak. But when, turning her eyes, she saw -the lion by the lady’s side, she threw down her pitcher, and fled as -fast as her feet could carry her. Not once did she look behind her, but -fled as if for her life till she came to the house where she dwelt with -her mother, a blind woman. Not a word did she say, but her fear was -plain to see, and the old woman perceived that there was some great -danger at hand, so when they two had shut the door they hid themselves -in the darkest corner of the cottage. - -In a short space of time came Una and her lion to the door. Thereat the -lady knocked, but when no one answered, and the time was passing, the -lion in his impatience rent the wicket-gate with his claws and let her -in. No further hurt did he, and when Una had with much gentle speech -allayed the women’s fear, they laid themselves down to sleep. - -But when the night was far spent, there came one to the door demanding -entrance, and when this was not speedily given him, using many oaths and -curses. He was a sturdy thief, by name Kirkrapine, that is to say, -Robber of Churches, and this indeed was his trade. He was wont to steal -away the ornaments of churches, and to strip off from the images of the -saints the vestments with which they were clad, and to purloin the robes -of the priests, and to break open the boxes in which were put the alms -for the poor. No small share of the plunder did he bring to the house -where Una lay that night, for he was the lover of the old woman’s -daughter, and he could never give her enough of gold and jewels and -precious things. But whether the old woman knew of the matter none can -tell, though it might have seemed that such doings were not to her mind, -seeing that she told her beads and prayed both by day and by night; nine -hundred Paternosters would she say daily, and of Ave Marias twice as -many. Thrice in the week, also, did she sit in ashes; thrice three times -she fasted from all food and drink, and she wore sackcloth nearest to -her skin. - -Now when this same Kirkrapine found that, for all his cursing, he could -not win an entrance, for, indeed, though the women heard him, they were -hindered from rising by fear of the lion, he let fly furiously at the -door and brake it down, and would have entered. But as he was about to -cross the threshold, the beast, thinking that his lady was in danger, -sprang at him, and brought him to the ground, and so tore him that he -died, which, having done, the lion came back to his place by the lady’s -side, and watched her as before. - -When the day broke, the Lady Una rose from her place, and went forth -from the cottage, and journeyed onwards still seeking the Knight, and -the lion went with her. The old woman also and her daughter, so soon as -the house was clear of its guests, rose up. But when they found -Kirkrapine lying dead before the door, great was their grief and greater -still their anger. - -“This,” they cried, “the savage beast has done,” and they followed with -all the speed they might use, and so overtook her. Harm her they might -not, for they feared the lion, and when they had cursed her loud and -long they turned back to go to their own house. - -As they went they met a knight, fully clad in armour. But yet he was no -knight but only the wizard Archimage, who had taken upon himself, by -help of his wicked arts, the semblance of the Red-Cross Knight. The -false knight asked them whether they had seen a lady journeying alone. - -“Yea,” the old woman answered, “such I have seen; an evil woman she is, -and much harm hath she wrought.” And she told a piteous tale of the -things which she had suffered. This done, she showed him the way by -which he must go, if he would overtake the lady, and he, having thanked -her with due courtesy, rode on. Nor was it long before he overtook the -Lady Una, for she, having but an ass for her steed, travelled slowly. -When she saw him, and noted the Red Cross on his shield and the like -emblem on his breast, she said to herself: “Now God be thanked, I see my -true champion again,” and she rode to meet him, and greeted him with -friendly words, saying: “Where have you been these weary days, my lord? -I have fared ill without your company,” and she told him of all the -troubles and dangers through which she had passed. - -On the other hand, the false knight spoke her fair: “For this cause I -left you, dearest lady, that I might seek an adventure of which -Archimage told me, and how I might deal with a felon who had done great -harm to many gallant knights. And, indeed, I did deal with him, so that -he shall hurt such knights no more. I pray you, fair lady, to pardon me -that I left you awhile, even for such cause, and to take me once more as -your faithful servant and champion.” - -[Illustration: The Lady Una and the Lion.] - -So the two rode on together. They had not travelled many miles when they -saw coming to them, riding at the full speed of his horse a knight fully -armed. When he came near they saw that he was a man of very fierce -aspect, and that he carried on his shield the name _Sansloy_. Fierce as -he was of look, he grew fiercer yet when he perceived the false knight’s -shield, how it had the badge of the Red Cross. Not a word did he speak, -but he laid his spear in rest and rode fiercely forward. - -Sorely dismayed was Archimage, and loath to meet the stranger in battle, -for, indeed, he was not used to bearing arms. Yet could he not hold back -for very shame. The Lady Una also looked at him that he should bear -himself bravely. But it fared ill with him, and, indeed, it would have -fared worse but that his steed, being no less timorous than himself, -held back in the onset, so that the shock of their meeting was the less -fierce. Nevertheless, he was thrown to the ground, where he lay helpless -and without defence. - -The strange knight leapt lightly from his horse, and made as though he -would have slain his adversary. “Ha!” he cried, “so he that slew the -brave knight Sansfoy, my brother, has come by his deserts. Sansfoy he -slew, and by Sansloy he shall be slain!” - -Then he began to unlace the man’s helmet as he lay upon the ground, but -the Lady Una cried, “Oh, Sir Knight, hold your hand; is it not enough -that you have vanquished him? He lies there at your mercy. Therefore -have mercy upon him. Verily there is not in the whole world a truer -knight than he.” But the stranger had no mind to hold his hand, for, -indeed, he had no compassion within his heart. But when he had ended the -unlacing of the helmet, and was now ready to strike, he saw the hoary -head and wrinkled face of Archimage, and cried: “What is this that I -see, Archimage, luckless sire? By what ill-fortune have you come across -me in this fashion? Is the fault with me or with you, that I should have -dealt with a friend as though he were an enemy?” - -So he spake, but not a word did the wizard answer. He lay in a swoon, -and the shadow of death was on his face. And now the Lady Una had come -and was looking into the old man’s face. Sore dismayed she was and sore -vexed; for he whom she had taken for her champion was a deceiver; nor -could she divine how she might escape from the hand of this paynim -knight. And now she had to bear yet another grief. For when Sansloy laid -a rude hand upon her and bade her descend from her steed, and caught -away her veil that he might look upon her face, the lion, not enduring -to see his mistress so handled and treated, sprang at the knight, but -alas! what was he to withstand a knight clad in armour of proof, with -spear and sword? Soon did Sansloy thrust him through with the iron -point, so that the faithful beast fell dead upon the ground, and the -lady was left helpless and without defence. - - - - - CHAPTER IV - OF WHAT BEFELL AT THE HOUSE OF PRIDE - - -The Red-Cross Knight rode on with the false Fidessa, not knowing that -she was indeed the witch Duessa, who had changed the unhappy Fradubio -into a tree. After a while they came to a road which was manifestly much -frequented of men, and following this beheld before them a very stately -palace. “Come,” said Duessa, “let us seek shelter here, for I am weary -with my journeying and the day is far spent.” - -It was, indeed, a very noble house, cunningly built of bricks laid -artfully together without mortar. It had very lofty walls, but they were -as slight as they were high, overlaid with shining gold, with many -towers rising from them, and goodly galleries disposed among them, and -spacious windows. No one could blame the skill of the architect that had -planned it, or of the builders that had raised it up, so fair it was to -look upon; yet it was passing strange that it had been built in a place -so ill chosen, to wit, upon a sandy hill, so that the foundations were -ever slipping away from it; and when the winds blew upon it it was -shaken most perilously, and the lower parts, for all that they were -painted so as to make a very brave show, were ruinous and old. - -They passed by the porter, whose name was Malvenu, which being -interpreted is “Ill come,” without challenge, and so came into the hall. -This was right richly arrayed with arras and cloth-of-gold, and was -filled from end to end with a great crowd of people of all sorts and -degrees, waiting, all of them, for a sight of the lady of the house. -These also they passed, as being guests to whom special honour was due, -and so were brought into the presence of the lady, where she sat with as -fair and richly-clad a company of knights and dames about her as ever -was seen upon the earth. High on a throne, splendid in royal robes and -ornaments of gold and jewels costly beyond all count, sat the lady. Fair -she was, so fair that throne and robes and gold and gems were as nothing -in comparison with her beauty. Under her feet was a great dragon, and in -her hand she held a shining mirror of brass, and her name was Lucifera. -She was, indeed, the Queen of Pride, and all her brave show was a false -seeming, and her kingdom a kingdom of unrighteousness. - -The Knight, not knowing what the lady truly was, and false Duessa, to -whom all these things were well pleasing, being introduced by a certain -usher of the court, Vanity by name, bowed themselves low before the -throne. And the Knight said, “Lady, we are come to see your royal state, -and to prove the report of your great majesty which has gone through all -the world.” “I thank you,” said the lady, but in a disdainful way, for -she did not so much as cast her eyes upon them, nor did she bid them -rise. On the other hand, the knights and ladies set themselves with much -heartiness to entertain the new-comers. The knights were right glad to -welcome among them a companion so fair and so stalwart, and to the dames -the false Duessa was well known. Nevertheless the Knight was but ill -pleased that the Lady Lucifera should show such scant courtesy to a -stranger. “She is overproud,” he thought to himself, “and there is too -much of vain show in these her surroundings.” - -While he was thus thinking, the lady rose suddenly from her place, and -said that she would ride abroad, and bade call for her coach. A stately -coach it was, like to that which, as it was said of old, Queen Juno rode -with six peacocks, spreading out great starry tails, for horses. Six -steeds had this Queen also, but they were but ill matched, and on each -of them did ride one of the six counsellors who advised her in affairs -of state, and the six were Idleness, and Gluttony, and Lust, and -Avarice, and Envy, and Anger. The false Duessa followed close after the -Lady Lucifera, for she was of a kindred spirit, but the Knight, though -he knew not all the truth, yet held aloof from the rout, not liking -their company. When they had tarried awhile in the fields, breathing the -fresh air of the country-side, they turned back to the palace. There -they found a Saracen knight newly come, who carried on his shield the -name _Sansjoy_. He was ill-favoured and ill-conditioned, as one who bore -a grudge against his fellows. But when he saw how the page of the -Red-Cross Knight carried a shield on which was written the name of -_Sansfoy_, then was he filled with fury, and sprang upon the lad and -wrenched it from him, which the Red-Cross Knight perceiving, being ill -content so to lose the trophy which he had won in fair fight, ran at the -Saracen, and recovered that which was his own. Already had they drawn -their swords to fight out their quarrel hand to hand, when the Queen -Lucifera interposed her high command: “Sirs,” she said, “I command you -on pain of my high displeasure to forbear. To-morrow, if you will, you -shall prove in fair fight to whom this shield, for which I perceive you -contend, in right belongs. Meanwhile I bid you be at peace.” - -“I beg your pardon, noble Queen,” said the Saracen, “for that I have -thus broken the peace of your court; in truth I could not refrain myself -when I saw this false knight possessing the shield of the brave -_Sansfoy_, whom he slew not in fair fight, but by magic arts, ay, and -not possessing it only, but that he might do it dishonour, commanding -that it should be publicly borne.” So spake Sansjoy, but the Red-Cross -Knight said nothing; he was a man of deeds, not of words. Only he threw -his gauntlet on the ground, to be a pledge that he would meet his -adversary in the field. - -Then, for evening was now come, all sat down to the banquet. Right -royally did they feast, for Gluttony was steward that night, and ordered -their meat and drink; and when they had feasted to the full, they betook -themselves to their beds, and Sloth was their chamberlain. But before -she slept Duessa made Sansjoy aware that she was no friend to the -Red-Cross Knight. - - - - - CHAPTER V - HOW THE RED-CROSS KNIGHT LEAVES THE CASTLE OF PRIDE - - -It is ever the way with noble hearts, that they cannot rest till they -have fully accomplished that which they purpose to do. So all night long -the Red-Cross Knight considered with himself how he should most wisely -bear himself in the morrow’s fight, and so considering he waited till -the morning light should shine upon the earth. So soon therefore as the -sun appeared in the sky he rose from his bed, and arrayed himself in his -armour, making ready for his combat with the Saracen. This done, he -descended into the castle hall, where there was already gathered a great -crowd of men, who had come to see what the issue of the day should be. -There were musicians making melody on harps and viols, and bards who -were ready to celebrate in song the strength and valour of him who -should win the victory. After him by no great space of time came the -Saracen, clad in chain armour. Fierce was his look, as though he would -strike fear into his adversary, but the Knight was of a temper which no -looks could dismay. Then the pages brought in two cups of wine from -Greece, and mingled therein spices from farthest India, for such was the -custom of the place. It was to kindle the champions’ courage forsooth, -but neither Christian nor Saracen, I take it, had need of such -encouragement. And as they drank they sware a solemn oath that they -would duly observe the laws of honourable war. - -This done, the Queen Lucifera came with a great train of knights and -ladies, and took her seat upon the throne which had been set for her -with a great canopy over it. Before her was an open space, railed in on -every side, that none should be near either to help or to hinder the -champions. Over against the Queen was set another throne, of less -account and dignity. On this was set false Duessa. And on a tree hard by -was hung the shield of Sansfoy, and a laurel crown which should be the -conqueror’s meed. - -And now was heard the shrill note of a trumpet, and the two champions -addressed themselves to the battle. Each man carried his shield on his -left arm, and took his sword in his right hand, for such was the order -of the fight, that for a speedier issue they should lay aside their -spears and take at once their swords. Both knights were sturdy and -brave, and long they fought without advantage gained. Stroke was -answered with stroke, while the sparks flew from either shield, and each -helmet showed the dints where the steel had been well-nigh broken -through. Neither did this champion or that escape without harm, for the -blood was seen to flow out and dye their coats of mail, but neither -suffered such a wound as to hinder him from the fight, nor did the crowd -that watched them know which would prevail. And now it chanced that the -Saracen, as he shifted his place, caught the sight of his brother’s -shield, where it hung upon the tree, to be the conqueror’s prize. The -sight stirred him to a double rage: “Ah! brother,” he cried, “dost thou -sit so long by that dark lake of death the while thy shield hangs here -to be the prize of victory? Go, caitiff,” so he cried, as he turned him -to the Red-Cross Knight, “go and tell him that I have redeemed his -shield from shame.” And as he spoke, he smote upon the crest of the -Knight a mightier stroke by far than he had ever dealt. Twice did the -Knight reel as he stood; twice was he ready to fall; while all that -watched were assured that the battle was indeed won and lost, and the -false Duessa cried aloud: “Well done, Sansjoy; the shield is yours, and -I and all.” But when the Knight heard the voice of the lady—for he knew -not yet her true quality—he raised himself from his swoon, and his faith -that had waxed weak grew strong again, and the chill departed from his -limbs. Wrath and shame and love wrought such new strength within him, -that he struck his foe with a stroke so mighty that it brought him to -his knee. “Ah! thou miscreant,” he cried, “go now and take yourself your -message to this dear brother, and tell him that the conqueror has his -shield.” But when he would have dealt yet another blow, and so ended the -fight beyond all doubt, lo! there was a dark cloud over all the place, -and the Saracen was nowhere to be seen. He called him aloud, but there -came no answer. The darkness had swallowed him up. Then the false Duessa -came down from her seat and entreated him with many words: “O most -valiant Knight that ever lady chose for her champion, abate now your -rage; your adversary lies low; be content with your victory.” But not -one whit was his wrath diminished; willingly would he have driven his -sword-hilt deep into the body of his enemy, so finishing his work. But -nowhere could he espy him. While he stood wondering, the trumpets -sounded again, now with a note of victory, and heralds came and paid him -homage, making low obeisance to him, and giving into his hands the -shield. After this they took him to the Queen, where she sat upon her -throne; and he, bending his knee before her, made proffer of his -service, which she accepted with much courtesy of thanks. This done, she -returned to the palace, having the Knight by her side, the people -following with loud shouts and much rejoicing. - -And now, because his wounds were many—for not without much cost of pain -had he won this victory—they laid him in a bed and bound up his hurts, -pouring in oil and wine, the while the musicians made sweet music to -comfort him in his sickness. While he thus lay, Duessa resorted to a -certain witch of whom she had knowledge, and told her of how the -Christian Knight had slain Sansfoy, and now had stricken Sansjoy -well-nigh to death, and prayed her help. So the two returned together to -where the Saracen lay, still covered with the magic cloud. They bound up -his wounds, and laid him in the witch’s car, and carried him to hell to -the dwelling of Æsculapius. Now this Æsculapius was a great physician in -the days of old, and because he had brought to life again a certain man -who had been unjustly slain he had suffered grievous punishment. He -could not die, for he was of immortal race, but he had been struck down -to hell with a thunderbolt. There he had lain, age after age, striving, -if it might be, to heal his own hurts. To him, therefore, the witch and -Duessa brought Sansjoy, and prayed him that he would recover him of his -deadly hurt. “Nay, nay,” said he, “you ask what may not be. You tempt me -to do again the very thing for which I suffer all this pain. Shall I -again, with a like deed, renew the wrath of him that so dealt with me?” - -The witch made answer: “What more can you suffer than you have suffered -already? You hope for nothing; what then should you fear? You are in -this lowest deep; is there a lower to which you can fall? Deny not my -prayer; rather show the power which has given you your great renown in -heaven and on earth and in hell itself.” - -“Be it so,” he said. So they brought the knight, and the great physician -used all his arts, applying to the man’s wound all the healing powers -that he knew. Then Duessa, having accomplished her purpose, so far as it -might be done, journeyed back to the Palace of Pride, but when she came -thither she found that the Red-Cross Knight had departed. - -Now the cause of his going was this. He was not, indeed, fit for travel, -nor had his wounds been duly healed, but he might not stay, having heard -what his faithful Dwarf had told him; and the thing was this, that there -were dungeons beneath this fair castle, with all its splendid -furnishing, in which lay a crowd of prisoners in most miserable plight, -men of the old times and of the new, such as were Nimrod the great -hunter, and the lords of Babylon and Nineveh, and great chiefs of Rome, -all who by wicked pride had sinned against God and man. This had the -watchful Dwarf espied. And when the Knight heard the tale he would tarry -no longer, but that very hour, while it was yet dark, for it would have -gone ill with him had he been espied, he fled from the castle. By a -bye-way he fled, and lo! it was so full of the corpses of men that he -and the Dwarf could scarce make their way, for though the castle was -fair in all its public parts, those that were secret were foul beyond -all thinking. - - - - - CHAPTER VI - THE LADY UNA AND THE SATYRS - - -Though the wizard Archimage was an ill companion for the Lady Una, yet -was Sansloy, by whom he was overthrown, a worse. They had not travelled -together far when he said, “Lady, deign, I pray you, to show me that -fair face of yours. I would fain know for whom I have done battle. -Yours, I ween, is such beauty as the old villain whom I overthrew was -not worthy to take in charge.” And when she answered him not a word, he -stretched forth a lawless hand, and would have torn the veil from her -face. Then she cried aloud. “Ay,” said he, “cry if you will; there is -none to help you here.” But even while he spoke there came running out -of the wood, which was hard by, a great multitude of strange creatures, -fauns and satyrs, half man and half beast. They were dancing and making -merry in the forest, which is their natural dwelling-place, and when -they heard the cry, one said to another: “This is the cry of some mortal -in distress, and it has the note of a woman’s voice; let us see what is -the cause.” So they made all haste to the place from which the cry came. -And when the Saracen beheld them he was sore afraid. Such creatures he -had never seen in all his life; so he sprang upon his horse, and fled as -fast as he could. Nor, indeed, was the Lady Una wholly quit of her -fears. So it may chance that when a wolf carries off a lamb, and drops -it for fear of a lion, the lamb may be in no better case. But when the -strange creatures saw by the lady’s face that she was sore afraid, they -tried to show their goodwill towards her; they threw themselves upon the -ground and kissed her feet, and sought to show her that they were her -dutiful servants. So, gathering courage, she raised herself from the -earth on which she had thrown herself in fear and distress, and made -signs that she would go with them. So they led her through the wood, -dancing and shouting and singing; and some strewed branches of trees on -the ground before her, and one, who was a chief among them, put a crown -of olive leaves about her head. So they led her to their chief Sylvanus, -and he, waked from his sleep by their shouting, came forth to meet them, -leaning on a staff of cypress wood, and having a rope of ivy knitted -about his middle. When he saw her, much did he marvel who she could be. -“This is not Venus,” he said to himself, “for Venus never was in so -sober a mood; no, nor Diana, for I see not her bow and arrows and the -buskins up to her knee.” And while he stood and wondered, the nymphs -flocked in to see, nymphs of the fountains and the woods, and they whose -lives are bound to a single tree, living while it lives and dying when -it dies. Nor were they less astonished, but they were ill pleased that -one so fair should come among them: “Who of the wood folk,” they said to -themselves, “will think of us when this mortal maid is near?” - -Many days Lady Una tarried with this strange folk, and not unwillingly, -for it was as it were a breathing time, giving her rest from the long -toil of her journey. And while she tarried she strove to the utmost to -teach them something of the Christian faith: but ever she had much ado -to keep them from the worshipping of herself. And when she had scarcely -kept them from this, they turned to worship her ass. - -After a while there came into these parts a certain knight, Satyrane by -name, so called because he was the son of a prince among the satyrs, but -his mother was of the race of men. He was brought up in the woods, far -from all human company; nor did he learn letters or any craft -whatsoever, but only to be ever of a good courage and to banish fear. So -he would lay his hand on lions and bears, and tame the wild bulls of the -forest, riding on them as one might ride upon a horse. And he grew to be -so swift of foot that he would overtake the roebuck in his flight. ’Tis -said that once when his mother came to see him, for she had gone back to -dwell with her own kind, she saw him carrying in his arms the cubs of a -lioness which he had carried away from their dam, while the creature, in -its rage, followed him, roaring aloud, yet dared not spring, so well did -all the beasts of the forest know and fear him. When he grew to years of -manhood he was not content with the conquest over wild beasts, or with -life in the wood far from man. He went therefore into distant lands -seeking adventures, in which he acquitted him so well that no man could -boast of having overthrown him. Yet it was his custom from time to time -to return to his old dwelling-place to see his old father and to rest -awhile from his labours. And so coming now, he chanced to find the Lady -Una sitting with a company of the forest folk around her, teaching them -holy things. Much he marvelled to see how fair she was, and more did he -marvel at the wise and gracious words that came from her lips; for, -indeed, by this time, being by nature of a lively wit, he had himself -learnt many things. So he gladly sought her company, and would fain be -her disciple and learn the ways of righteousness and peace from her -lips. - -After certain days the Lady Una, seeing that this Satyrane was an -honourable knight and worthy of trust, said to him, “I would fain go on -with journeyings, if haply I may find my champion.” “Lady,” he made -answer, “I am bound to do your pleasure; it shall be as you say.” So -having watched for a time when the forest folk were away, he took her -through the forest till they came to the plain beyond. When the day was -now far spent they spied a traveller on the road, and judging from his -look and garb that he had come from far, hastened towards him, hoping -that they might by chance hear something that would help them in their -quest. He was an old man of low estate, as it seemed, his garments worn -and soiled with much dust from the road, his sandals torn with much -travelling, and his face bronzed by the sun, as if he had travelled long -in Arabian or Indian land. A staff he carried in his hand, and on his -shoulders hung a wallet in which he carried such things as were needed -for his journey. - -Satyrane said to him: “Friend, have you aught to tell me of wars and -adventures in these or in foreign parts, for indeed you seem to have -come a long way?” “Nay,” answered the stranger, “I am a simple man, and -know nothing of such matters.” Then said the Lady Una: “Tell me now -whether you have seen or heard aught of the champion whom I am seeking? -He bears a red cross on his armour.” The old man answered: “Fair lady, -truly I have seen such an one with these eyes, and a sorry sight it was, -for he lay dead upon the ground.” When the Lady Una heard these words -she fell to the earth in a swoon. When Satyrane with much care had -brought her back to life, she said: “Friend, tell me all that you know; -one who has borne the greater pain may well endure the less.” - -The old traveller answered: “On a certain day—an evil day it was, and I -am grieved that I ever lived to see it—as I chanced to be passing on my -way, I saw two knights contending fiercely together; one was a Saracen, -and the other bore a red cross on his shield, and he that carried this -device was slain.” “Oh to think,” cried the Lady Una, “that he should be -thus overcome, he that was so stout and brave. How could such an evil -chance befall?” “That I know not, fair lady,” said the old man; “I can -but relate the thing which I saw with mine eyes.” Then said Satyrane: -“Tell me now, old man, where is the Saracen knight that did this deed? -Is he far from hence or near at hand?” The old man made answer: “You may -find him not far from here. I left him but a short time ago sitting by a -fountain where he washed his wounds.” - -The knight Satyrane, having further inquired by what way he should go, -made all haste to find the Saracen, fearing lest haply he should have -departed. And, indeed, he found him, sitting by the fountain side under -the shade of a tree, for it was Sansloy, the same that had overthrown -Archimage. And Satyrane cried aloud: “Rise from your place, accursed -miscreant, you that by some unknightly craft and treachery have slain -the Red-Cross Knight, for I know well that you could not have overcome -him in fair fight. Rise up, and either maintain your cause in arms, or -confess your guilt.” The Saracen, when he heard these words, rose -quickly from his place and put his helmet on his head, and took his -shield upon his arm, and drew near to his adversary. But first he said: -“Truly you have been sent hither in an evil hour to fight a quarrel that -is not yours. And, indeed, you blame me for a deed which I have not -done. The Red-Cross Knight I slew not, nor indeed did I engage in fight -with him. Someone who falsely bore his arms I overthrew. But come now, -if you may not fight in his quarrel, fight in your own.” - -Then the two men came together in fierce encounter. When they were at -the hottest of the fray, the Lady Una came to the place, for Satyrane -had left her behind in his haste. And when she saw the Saracen she said -to herself: “Now what shall I do if this false villain should get the -upper hand of Satyrane?” And the thought struck such terror into her -heart that she straightway turned and fled from the place. And the old -traveller, who had told the false tale of the slaying of the Red-Cross -Knight, followed her, for, indeed, he was none other than Archimage. - - - - - CHAPTER VII - OF THE GIANT ORGOGLIO - - -When the false Duessa came back to the Palace of Pride from the journey -which she had made in the matter of Sansjoy, she found that the -Red-Cross Knight had departed. Thereupon she set out without delay, -being altogether unwilling that he should escape out of reach of her -nets. Nor, indeed, was it long before she found him, sitting by the side -of a spring in the shade of a tree. He had put off his armour by reason -of his weariness and of the heat of the day. “You did ill to leave me in -that ill place Sir Knight,” she said, “for ill I found it to be, even as -you did yourself.” Then he excused himself with courteous words, and so -peace was made again between the two. - -Now the spring by which the Knight was taking his rest was not as other -springs, but there lay a curse upon it, because the nymph which dwelt -therein had fallen out of favour with her mistress, Diana. And the cause -of her so falling was this. On a certain day, as Diana and her train -were following the chase, the nymph of this spring, being wearied with -the heat and toil of the day, sat herself down to rest. With this her -mistress, being very keen in her hunting, was ill pleased: “Maid,” she -cried, “you are dull and slow; such, then, shall these waters be for -ever, ay, and whosoever shall drink of them.” Of this the Knight knew -nothing, but because the waters were crystal clear and cold, and his -thirst was great, he drank a great draught. And as he drank, the powers -of body and soul grew faint and feeble, but by slow degrees and -unperceived. Ere long there came to his ears a loud bellowing sound -which made the trees to tremble and the very earth to shake. The Knight -leapt from the ground, and would have armed himself, but yet, such was -the working of that magic spring, was strangely slow. Certain it is that -ere he could don his armour or thrust his arm into the fitting of his -shield, there came stalking along with mighty stride the most fearsome -giant that ever was seen on the face of the earth. His stature was -thrice that of man, and in his right hand he carried an oak tree which -he had torn from the earth by its roots. It served him for a staff -whereon to stay his steps, and for a mace with which to slay his foes. -So soon as he spied the Knight he came against him with the oak tree -lifted in his hand. On the other hand, the Knight made a vain show of -battle, but the strength had departed from his arm, and the heart in him -failed for fear. He lifted his sword, indeed, but he had no power to -strike. Then the giant aimed at him a mighty blow, such as would have -levelled to the ground a tower of stone. Verily, but for the grace and -help of God, it had ground him to powder, but he leapt from under it, -yet its very wind laid him prostrate on the ground. When the giant saw -him lie helpless in this fashion, he lifted his hand again as if to slay -him, but the false Duessa, who, for her own ends, would not have the -Knight perish in this fashion, cried aloud: “O Orgoglio, greatest of all -creatures under the sun, slay him not, but make him your thrall and -slave.” The giant listened to this prayer. He took the Knight in his -arms and carried him to his castle, and there threw him into a dungeon -that had been dug deep into the earth. There he lay for a while, with -such scant provision of meat and drink as sufficed to keep the life in -him. - -The faithful Dwarf had seen his master fall, for he had the Knight’s -war-horse in charge, while the beast was grazing in the meadow hard by. -And now, the giant having departed with his prisoner, he gathered -together the arms and the armour, for these Orgoglio had left lying on -the ground as taking no account of such things. There was the helmet and -the cuirass, and the greaves and the shield with the cross upon it, and -the spear—things sad to behold, now that there was none to wear or wield -them. He laid them on the back of the war-horse, and so departed. He had -not gone far before he met the Lady Una herself. When she saw him and -the war-horse and the burden which it bore, there was no spirit left in -her, so that she fell without sense to the ground. Willingly would the -faithful Dwarf have died, knowing what ill tidings he bore, and seeing -how ill they were taken. Nevertheless he did not lose heart, but with -much pain and care sought to recover the lady from her swoon. Thrice did -he bring her back to life, and thrice she fell as one dead to the -ground. At last, when the spirit within her had somewhat recovered -itself, she said with faltering tongue: “Tell me now, faithful friend, -the whole story from the beginning, how it is that I see these relics of -the bravest knight that ever was. Verily Fortune has spent all her spite -upon him and me. Worse than that which I feel in my heart I cannot hear. -Begin your tale and carry it to the very end. If haply it shall be in -aught less dreadful than what I fear, so much I shall have gained.” - -Then the Dwarf rehearsed from the beginning all that had befallen the -Red-Cross Knight from the time of their parting, the deceits of -Archimage and the wiles of the false Duessa, and the fate of the two -lovers who had been changed to trees, and the Palace of Pride, and the -combat with Sansjoy, and how the Knight had been taken unprepared by the -giant Orgoglio. - -To these things the lady listened with attentive ear, and when the Dwarf -had ended his tale she said: “Verily I will seek him as long as I live. -Lead on, and show me the way that I must go.” So they travelled both -together. - -They had not journeyed far before they met a knight riding on the way -with his squire behind him. Never was there more gallant warrior or more -gallantly arrayed. His armour shone like the sun, and across his breast -he wore a baldrick richly adorned with precious stones. Costly were they -all, but one among them shone most excellently, a great diamond like to -the head of a fair lady, brighter than all the rest, even as the star of -evening is brighter than all the hosts of heaven. His sword hung from -his side in a sheath cunningly made of ivory; its hilt was of burnished -gold, and its buckle also of gold. The crest of his helmet was a great -dragon, with wings spread out on either side, and above the crest a -horse-hair plume, which waved to and fro as an almond tree waves its -blossoms in the breath of spring. But the great marvel of his equipment -was his shield. It was not made of iron or of brass, as are the shields -of common men, but of one great diamond. Only it was covered up from -sight. When he would dismay some huge monster, or strike with fear some -great array of the enemy, then he would show its brightness. No power of -man, no enchantments, strong and subtle as they might be, could prevail -against it, or diminish aught of its power, for indeed it was made by -the greatest magician that ever lived upon the earth, even Merlin. - -The gallant knight spake full courteously to the Lady Una, asking if he -could help her or serve her in aught. “Oh, Sir,” she answered, “my -sorrow is so great that it is past all remedy. What would it profit to -tell the tale? ’Tis best to hide it in my heart nor stir the hidden -grief.” - -“Nay, lady,” answered the knight, “I doubt not that your grief is great, -but I would counsel you to tell the tale for all it is so sad. Pain is -ever lessened, be it ever so great, by wise counsel, and he who will not -reveal his trouble may never find help.” - -So they spake together, he persuading her to reveal her sorrow and she -unwilling to bring it to the light, till at last, yielding to his words -of wisdom, she told her tale. - -“I am the daughter,” she said, “the only child of a king and queen whose -kingdom lies far by the river Euphrates. Long did they reign in great -prosperity, till a great dragon, bred in the lakes of Tartary, wasted -their land till there was nothing left of all that belonged to them, -save the one castle in which they dwelt, and to this the dragon has laid -siege now for the space of four years. Many knights have taken in hand -this enterprise, to subdue the dragon and to deliver those whom he -oppresses. From every country under heaven have they come, brave men and -famous for great deeds, but they have failed, one and all. For want of -faith or for the hidden weakness of some secret sin they have fallen -before him. At last there came to our land a report of certain famous -knights that had been bred in this realm of Fairy Land. Thereupon I -betook myself thither, even to the Court of Queen Gloriana, who dwells -in the City of Renown, hoping that I might there find some faithful -knight who should deliver my father and mother from the power of the -tyrant. Nor did I go in vain. It was my good fortune to find a gallant -knight who was fit and willing to undertake this task. Unproved indeed -he was, but he was of a fair body and a noble soul. It was he who set -forth upon this enterprise. Of his prowess I saw full many a proof. Yea, -the sword and the spear which you see on the back of yonder steed might -tell, if they could speak, of the great deeds which he has wrought. But -by ill chance he encountered a most false magician, by whose arts he was -betrayed. First this vile creature made division between my knight and -me, so that he misdoubted of my faith. Next he delivered him to the -wiles of a certain false woman, Duessa by name. And she has betrayed him -into the hands of a great and terrible giant, Orgoglio by name. And in -this giant’s dungeon he now lies pining to death. This is my grief, Sir -Knight, and greater, surely, never woman bore.” - -“Your grief is indeed great,” answered the stranger knight; “but be of -good cheer. I will never leave you till I have set your champion free. -Come now, let us bring this matter to an end.” - -So they rode on together with the Dwarf for their guide. The name of the -gallant knight who bore the shield of diamond was Arthur. - - - - - CHAPTER VIII - OF THE DEEDS OF PRINCE ARTHUR - - -When they had travelled a score of miles or so, they came to a castle -which was built very high and strong. Thereupon the Dwarf cried out, -“This is the place in which my good lord lies a prisoner, the thrall of -the giant Orgoglio.” Thereupon the Prince Arthur alighted from his -steed, and said to the Lady Una, “Stay here, madam, and await the issue -of this day’s combat.” Then, at his bidding, the squire came near to the -wall of the castle. He found the gates fast shut, with no warder to -guard them, nor was there any to answer when he called. Then the squire -took in his hand a bugle that he bore, that hung by his side with a -chain of gold decked with gay tassels. It was a bugle of wondrous power; -for three miles it could be heard, and there came out of space three -answers to its blast, nor could anyone in whose heart there was aught of -falsehood endure to hear it without dismay, nor could any bolt or bar, -however stout they might be, withstand its summons. This bugle, then, -Prince Arthur’s squire sounded before the giant’s castle. And it was -shaken straightway from the foundation to the topmost towers, and the -doors flew open of their own accord. The giant himself was much troubled -at the sound, and came with staggering steps, as one smitten with a -sudden fear, to see what it might mean. And after came the false Duessa, -riding on a many-headed beast, with fiery tongues, for such a monster -the giant had given her for her own. - -Prince Arthur without delay addressed himself to the fight. Nor did the -giant draw back, being persuaded that no mortal man could stand up -against him and prevail. He thought, indeed, to slay him with a single -blow, and lifted up his mighty club. But the Prince was wise and wary, -and, lightly leaping aside, he escaped the stroke unhurt, for he thought -it no shame to use his craft against brute strength. As for the club, so -missing its aim, it sank deep into the earth, making a furrow a yard -deep and more. The giant pulled at it amain, seeking to lift it for -another stroke, but could not prevail, so fast was it buried. The -knight, therefore, had him at a disadvantage, and smote him with his -sword so deadly a stroke that it shore off his arm. Loud did he bellow -with fear and pain, and Duessa, seeing her champion in sore distress, -made the great beast on which she sat advance against the Knight. But -now Prince Arthur’s squire, a gallant warrior, worthy of such a lord, -stood forth and, with his single sword, barred the way. In high disdain -to be hindered by so weak a foe Duessa yet again urged on the beast, but -still the squire stood firm; he would not give place a single step lest -the enemy should so gain an advantage against his lord. Then Duessa had -recourse to her magic arts, for she took of the magic juices which she -ever carried with her, and sprinkled them upon the youth, and quenched -his courage and robbed him of his strength, so that he could neither see -nor stand. So he fell all his length upon the earth, and the beast laid -his deadly claws upon his neck, and would have crushed the life out of -him. But the Knight, perceiving his evil plight, turned quickly from his -own adversary, and addressed himself to the beast, for, indeed, it -grieved him much that his faithful squire should have come into such -peril of his life. So, lifting high the sword with which he had smitten -the giant, he smote the beast upon one of its heads, making the blood -pour out amain. But when the beast, writhing to and fro in its pain, -would have shaken Duessa from her seat upon its back, and she cried out -in her fear, the giant came to her help. He was, indeed, of no common -nature, nor was he disabled by the wound which would have bereft all -other creatures of strength. In the one hand which was left to him there -dwelt the strength of the two, and now being free to use again his club -of oak, he lifted it up high and dealt such a blow at Prince Arthur’s -shield that it brought him to the ground. But now by this very stroke -the Knight’s deliverance was wrought, for the covering was torn from the -shield by its violence, and all its brightness was revealed. With so -great a splendour did it blaze into the giant’s eyes that he dropped his -arm and let fall the club with which he was ready to slay his adversary. -The beast also was blinded by that brightness, and fell reft of its -senses on the ground. Nor when Duessa cried aloud to the giant in her -fear could he render effectual help. With stroke after stroke the Prince -lopped from him limb after limb, till he lay dead upon the ground. And -then this marvel came to pass. This creature which had seemed so vast -seemed to vanish away. As for Duessa, she sprang from off the beast, and -would have fled away upon her feet. But this the squire would not -suffer, for, pursuing her with speedy feet, he laid hold of her and -brought her back to the Prince to await his judgment. - -And now the Lady Una, who in fear and trembling had watched the combat -from a distance, came near and thanked both Knight and squire for the -good service which they had rendered. “I cannot repay you,” she said; -“may Heaven give you your reward and with usury. Suffer me to say one -thing. Let not this false woman depart, for, indeed, she is the cause of -all the mischief that has been wrought.” Then Prince Arthur said to his -squire: “Take this woman in charge; I will go seek the Red-Cross -Knight.” So he departed on this errand, and, entering the castle, sought -someone of whom he might inquire. No one did he find, and though he -called aloud, there was none to answer. At last there came forth an old -man leaning on a staff with which he guided his steps, for the sight of -his eyes had failed him long since, and carrying a great bunch of keys, -but all of them overgrown with rust. His name was Ignaro. A reverend -sire he seemed, and the Knight asked him with all courtesy: “Who are -they that dwell in this place, and where may they be found?” “I cannot -tell,” he said. Then the Prince asked again: “Where, then, is the Knight -whom the giant Orgoglio holds in thrall?” “I cannot tell,” said he -again, nor did he say any other words. The Prince’s anger rose at this -foolishness, but he checked it as should a courteous knight, and, taking -the keys from the old man’s hand, essayed to open the doors, nor did -they delay to yield. Great riches he found within—store of gold, and -tapestry finely wrought, and much splendid furnishing; but the floor was -foul with blood. Vainly did he search through all the chambers; the -prisoner he could not find. At last he came to an iron door. It was fast -locked, nor was there a key upon the bunch that would open it. But in -the door there was a grating of iron bars. Through this he called aloud: -“Dwells there anyone in this place, for I will set him free?” To this -there came a low voice making this reply: “Who is that who comes? Three -months have I lain in this foul dungeon, and if you bring me death -itself I would choose it rather than to stay in this place.” When the -Prince heard these words he was overcome with horror and pity; not the -less, gathering up all his strength, he smote the door, and brake it -from its hinges. But when the opening was made, lo! on the other side -was no floor but only a deep pit, dark as night, from which there came -up a loathsome smell. But neither the pit nor the darkness nor the vile -stench abated the Prince’s courage. With much pains and toil he drew up -the prisoner from the pit. Sadly wasted was he. He could not stand upon -his feet, and his eyes, deep sunk in the sockets, could not bear to look -upon the light, and his arms that had been so staunch and strong in the -old time were wasted to the bone. So the Prince carried him to the -castle door. And when the Lady Una saw him, she was filled with pity and -ruth and would have comforted him: “Welcome, my lord,” she cried, “whom -I have so long desired to see. Soon shall you have a recompense for all -that you have suffered.” “Dear lady,” he made answer, “we will not speak -of the evil that is past; only let us beware that we fall not into it -again. For, indeed, there is engraven in my heart, as with a pen of -iron, this true saying: ‘Happiness may not abide in the heart of mortal -man.’” - -As for the false Duessa, they were content to strip her of her robes and -ornaments. And fouler creature to behold there never was. Then the -knights and the squire and the Lady Una tarried awhile in the castle, -where they found all things that they needed. So they took for sundry -days a rest from their toil. - - - - - CHAPTER IX - OF THE HOUSE OF HOLINESS - - -The time was now come when, having rested sufficiently, the Red-Cross -Knight must set forth again, and Prince Arthur, being bound for another -land, must bid his companions farewell. Then said the Lady Una: “Tell us -now your name and nation, for it would be a great loss not to know to -whom we owe so great a debt.” “Fair lady,” said he, “you ask me that -which it passeth my wit to answer. This only do I know, that so soon as -I was born I was taken by a knight of Fairyland to Timon, now the -wisest, as he was once the most expert, in arms among living men, by him -to be brought up in all virtuous lore and noble accomplishment. To his -house the great Merlin would often come, for he had the chief charge of -my upbringing, and he, when I asked him of my family, answered: ‘Be -content; you are the son and heir of a king, as shall be made manifest -in due time.’” “And how,” said the Lady Una, “came you here seeking -adventure?” “You bid me renew an unspeakable grief,” he answered. “There -was a time when I laughed at the name of Love, and thought scorn of all -that suffered from its power. But there came a time when I myself -confessed it. On a certain day, being wearied out with sport, I laid me -down to sleep. And in my sleep I dreamt a dream. The Queen of Fairyland -stood by my side and told me that she loved me and would show her love -when the time should come. Such was my dream; whether it was false or -true I know not—only that never in this world did man see so fair a -sight or hear words so sweet. And when I woke I vowed in my heart that I -would seek her, and never rest till I had found her. Nine months have I -sought her, but in vain.” The Lady Una said: “Happy Queen of Fairies -that has found so gallant a champion!” and the Red-Cross Knight said: “O -sir, to whom I owe my life, if ever man was worthy of such love, you are -surely he!” - -And now the time was come when they must part. Prince Arthur gave to the -Knight a box of diamonds set in gold, wherein were drops of a wondrous -liquid of a virtue so excellent that it could heal the most grievous -wounds. And the Knight gave to the Prince a book in which the Gospels -were written in golden letters. - -They had not journeyed far when they were aware of a knight, in complete -armour, riding towards them as fast as his horse could gallop. He seemed -to be flying from an enemy or from some dreadful thing, for, ever and -anon, he cast a look behind him as though an enemy were close at his -heels. When he came near they saw that his head was uncovered, and that -his hair bristled with fear, while his face was as pale as death, and -that round his neck was a rope of hemp, which, indeed, ill agreed with -his shining armour. But he made no account, so overcome with fear was -he, either of rope or of arms. The Red-Cross Knight rode as fast as he -could so as to meet him as he fled, and said to him: “Tell me, Sir -Knight, what has befallen you? From whom do you flee? Never have I seen -knight in such evil plight.” - -Not a word did the stranger speak, but stood staring widely out of stony -eyes. But after a while he gathered strength to speak, but full low, and -with faltering words: “For the love of God,” he said, “gentle Knight, -hinder me not: he comes; see! he comes after me, as fast as he can -ride.” But the Red-Cross Knight held him fast, and using now comfort and -now reproach, at last put some little heart into him, so that he could -tell his tale, and the tale was this— - -“I chanced of late to be in company with a gentle knight, Sir Terwin by -name. He was a man of good repute for courage and skill in arms, but he -fared ill in one matter, in that he loved a fair lady who had but little -love for him, but rather took pleasure in seeing him languish and -lament. On a certain day as we were coming away from the lady’s -dwelling—for he had been paying her court, and had been most -disdainfully treated—we met a stranger who greeted us courteously, and, -as we fared on together, told us many wonderful tales of great -adventures. When he had in this way won our regard, he inquired with a -show of friendship of our condition, and when he had heard the same, and -knew that we suffered not a little distress in this matter of love, for -I, too, was not less troubled in this respect than was my friend, he -began to talk to us in the most gloomy fashion, taking from us all hope -of relief, and in the end counselling us to end our troubles with death. -And that we might do this the more easily, he gave to me this rope and -to Sir Terwin a rusty knife. With this said knife Sir Terwin, unhappy -man that he was, forthwith slew himself; but I, whether I was more faint -of heart or more fortunate I know not, fled away with all speed.” - -“I would see this fellow,” said the Red-Cross Knight, “and deal with him -according to his deserts.” - -“Nay,” said the other, whose name was Trevisan, “I counsel you not to go -within hearing of his speech, so powerful is he to persuade.” And when -the Red-Cross Knight was urgent to go, Sir Trevisan answered: “To do -your pleasure, friend, I will show the place, but I myself would sooner -die than enter.” - -So they two rode together, and the Lady Una with them, till they came to -the place. It was a gloomy cave in the side of a rock, on the top of -which there sat an owl making a doleful screech. By the side of the cave -were stocks of trees without leaf or fruit, but with the carcases of men -hanging upon them, and on the ground beneath were other bodies, which -had fallen down by lapse of years. Sir Trevisan would have fled when he -saw the place, but the other would not suffer it. They entered the cave -and saw the man sitting on the ground within. His grisly hair fell in -long locks about his neck, and his eyes were deadly dull and his cheeks -sunken, as if it were with hunger and grief. His garments were dirty and -patched, being fastened together with thorns. And on the ground beside -him there lay the corpse of a man, newly slain, whose blood had not yet -ceased to flow from the wound. Then said the Red-Cross Knight, “What say -you, wicked man, why you should not be straightway judged for the evil -deed which you have done?” “What words are these, stranger?” said the -man, “and what judgment is this? Why should he live who desires to die? -Is it against justice that a man should have his due? Or, again, to -speak of charity rather than justice, is it not well to help him over -that comes to a great flood, or to free the feet that stick fast in the -mire? He that lies there enjoys the rest which you desire and cannot -have. Somewhat painful the passage, it cannot be denied, yet how great -and how sweet the rest! Is it not well to endure short pain for so long -a happiness? Sleep after toil, port after stormy seas, ease after war, -death after life, what better can you ask?” - -“Nay,” answered the Knight, “the time of a man’s life is ordered. No one -may shorten it at his will; no, nor any soldier quit the post at which -he has been set.” - -“Say you so?” replied the other. “If all things have their appointed -end, who shall deny that the end which you shall yourself set is of the -things appointed by Fate? Remember also this: the longer the life the -more the sin, and the more the sin the greater the punishment. Once you -have missed the right way—and who has not missed it?—the further you -stray. And have you not strayed, Sir Knight? Bethink you what you have -endured, and what you have done amiss. What of the lady whom you swore -to champion and so shamefully deserted? What of the false Duessa to whom -you so basely pledged yourself? Does not the law say, ‘He that sins -shall die’? Die, therefore, as becomes a brave man, without delay, and -of your own accord.” - -The Knight was greatly troubled by these words, for indeed there were -many things of which his conscience accused him, so that he trembled and -grew faint, which, when the Fiend perceived, he showed him a picture in -which was set forth the sufferings of lost souls; and, after this, -perceiving him to be yet more confounded, he brought to him a sword, and -poison, and a rope, bidding him choose the death by which he would -rather die. And when the Knight took none of these, he put into his hand -a sharp knife. Once and again did the Knight lift it up as if to strike; -but when the Lady Una saw it, she snatched the knife out of his hand, -crying, “Fie, fie on thee, faint hearted! Is this the battle which you -promised to fight against the dragon of the fiery mouth? Come away; let -not these idle words dismay your heart. You are chosen to a great work; -why should you despair? Surely Mercy rejoices against Judgment, and the -greater the need, the greater the grace. Come, let us leave this -accursed place.” Then the Knight rose up and departed. And when the -Fiend saw him depart, he took a halter and put it round his neck, and -was fain to hang himself. But this he could not do; many times had he -essayed the same, but had ever failed. - -As they journeyed on the Lady Una perceived that her Knight, for all -that he was healed of his sickness, was feeble and faint, and unfit for -combat, if such should come in his way. Now she knew of an ancient house -of rest which was in those parts where he might have refreshment and -recover his strength. The hostess’ name was Cælia, which, being -interpreted, is Heavenly, and she had three daughters—Fidelia and -Speranza and Charissa, the last a matron with fair children, the others -maidens promised in marriage. There the Knight tarried many days. Much -discipline did he endure for the removing of his faults and weaknesses, -and much comfort also was ministered to him, and many things was he -taught. And when his heart had been thus strengthened and purified, then -did the Lady Cælia commend him to the care of a most venerable sire who -was chief among her ministers. The same showed him many fair and noble -sights, and last of all, on a mountain side, a way that was both steep -and long, and at the end of the way a fair city, whose walls were -builded high of pearls and all manner of precious stones. And as the -Knight gazed thereat, he saw angels ascending thereto and descending -therefrom. Then said he to his guide: “Tell me, sir, what city do I see -yonder?” “That,” answered he, “is the New Jerusalem which God has built -as a dwelling-place for his children.” “Verily,” said the Knight, “I -thought that Cleopolis, the abode of the great Gloriana, was the fairest -of all cities. But this does far excel it.” “Yea,” answered the holy -man, “that is true beyond all doubt; and yet this same Cleopolis is -worthy to be the abode of all true knights, and the service of Queen -Gloriana a most honourable thing. And you, fair sir, have chosen a good -part, rendering thus obedience to her command, and succouring on her -behalf this distressed lady. And I give you this counsel: When you have -won your great victory, and have hung your shield high among the shields -of the most famous knights of the world, then turn your thoughts to -better things; wash your hands clean from the stain of blood, for blood, -though it be shed in a righteous cause, must make a stain. So shall you -tread the steep and narrow path which leads to this fair city, the New -Jerusalem. There is a mansion prepared for you. Thus you shall be -numbered among the saints, and shall be the friend and patron of the -land which gave you birth, having for your style and title Saint George -of England.” Then said the Knight, “Dare I hope, being such as I am, to -attain to such a grace?” “Yea,” said the Sage, “others of the like -degree have so attained.” “But must I leave behind all the delights of -war and love?” “Be content,” answered the Sage; “in that joy are all -joys fulfilled.” “But,” said the Knight, “if this world is so vain a -thing, why should I turn to it again? May I not abide here in peace till -I can set forth on that last voyage?” “Nay,” said the Sage, “that may -not be. Thou must maintain this lady’s cause, and do the work that has -been committed to you. But now learn the secret of your birth. You are -of the ancient race of British kings; but a fairy stole you from your -cradle, and laid you in a furrow. There a certain ploughman found you, -and, designing to bring you up to his own craft, called you George, -which is by interpretation, ‘worker of the earth.’” - -So the Knight went back to Cælia’s abode not a little comforted and -encouraged. - - - - - CHAPTER X - OF THE SLAYING OF THE DRAGON - - -The time was now come when the Red-Cross Knight must perform the task -which he had taken in hand. He departed therefore from the House of -Rest; nor had he journeyed far when the Lady Una said to him: “See now -the brazen tower in which my father and mother are imprisoned for fear -of the dragon, and lo! there is the watchman on the wall waiting for -good tidings.” Scarcely had she spoken when they heard a dreadful sound -of roaring, and, looking, they saw the dragon lying on the sunny side of -a hill, and he was like a hill himself, so great he was. Nor did he fail -to note the glitter of arms, for he was a watchful beast, and made all -haste to meet his enemy. - -Then said the Knight to Una: “The hour is come; stand aside on yonder -hill where you may watch the battle and be safe yourself.” - -Meanwhile the dragon came on, half flying and half on foot, such haste -did he make. Never was seen upon the earth so terrible a beast. He -looked like to a mountain as he came, so much of the earth did he cover, -so high did he rear himself in air, so broad a shadow did he cast. He -was covered all over with scales as of brass or iron, fitting so close -together that neither edge of sword nor point of spear could pierce -them. On either side he spread out two great wings like to the sails of -some tall ship. Behind was a great tail, wound in a hundred folds and -covering full three furlongs. Huge knots it had, each like to a shield, -and at the end were two great stings, armed each with deadliest poison. -But more cruel even than the stings were his claws, so mighty were they -and so sharp to rend asunder all that they should touch; and yet more -cruel than his claws was his monstrous head, with rows of teeth, strong -as iron, set in either jaw, while out of his throat came forth a smoking -breath with sulphurous stench. Deep set in his head were his two great -eyes, large as shields and burning with wrath as with fire, like to two -broad beacons set upon a hill to give warning of the foe’s approach to -all the shires around. - -Such was the dragon to behold, and as he came on he might be seen to -rear his neck as in pride, while his scales bristled with anger—a -dreadful sight, which made even the Knight’s bold heart grow cold for a -space with fear. But not the less boldly did he address himself to the -fight. Laying his spear in rest he charged with all his might. Full on -the monster’s carcase struck the spear, but could not pierce those -scales, so stout and closely set they were. Only so shrewd was the blow -that the dragon felt the shock within: never had such been dealt to him -before, though he had met many a gallant knight in combat. So he spread -wide his wings, and, lifting himself in air, circled round till, -swooping down, he seized Knight and steed with his claws and lifted them -from the earth. For a whole bow-shot’s length he carried them, but then -was constrained to loose them, so fierce the struggle which they made. -So you may see a hawk, when he has pounced upon some bird that is too -heavy for his flight, carry his prey awhile, but is then constrained to -drop him from his claws. Again did the Knight, so restored to the earth, -charge his foe. Again did the spear glance aside, though there was the -force as of three men in the blow. Yet was not the thrust all in vain. -So fierce was the shock that the dragon was constrained to raise his -wing, and there, where the flesh was bare of shelter, the spear point -made a grisly wound. The beast caught the spear shaft with his claws and -brake it short, but the head stuck fast, while the blood poured out -amain. Then, in his rage, he vomited forth great flames of fire, and, -bending round his tail, caught the Knight’s horse by the legs, and he, -fiercely struggling to free himself, threw his rider to the ground. Ill -content with this fall, for it seemed as a dishonour to him, he snatched -his sword—of his spear he had been bereft—and smote the dragon on his -crest. The crest did not yield to the blow, so stoutly was it cased -about, but the creature felt the shock through all his mighty frame. Yet -again the Knight smote him, and once more the sword glanced aside as if -from a rock of adamant, yet was not the labour spent in vain, for now -the beast, seeking to avoid his enemy, would have raised himself in air, -but that the wounded wing could not perform its office. Then, in his -fury, he brayed aloud, and vomited forth from his throat so fierce a -flame that it scorched the face of the Knight, and set his beard on -fire, and seared his flesh through his armour. Grievous was the pain, -and scarcely to be borne, not less than that which Hercules of old -endured when the fiery robe steeped in the Centaur’s blood wrapped him -round.[1] He stood astonished and helpless. And when the dragon saw how -he fared he dealt him a great blow with his tail, and so brought him -headlong to the ground. Then, indeed, it had gone ill with him, but for -the happy chance that behind him there was a spring which sent forth a -stream of water, silvery bright and of great virtue for the healing of -all wounds and sicknesses. Men in the old time, before the dragon had -wasted the land, called it the Well of Life, and though it was now for -the most part forgotten, yet had it not lost its healing powers. It -could restore him that was wasted with sickness, ay, and raise the dead. -There was no spring on earth that could be matched with it. But of this -the dragon was unaware—how should he know of such things?—only when he -saw his adversary fall headlong into the water he clapped his wings for -joy. This the Lady Una saw from the hill whereon she sat watching the -fight. Sorely did it dismay her. Nevertheless she did not wholly lose -her hope, but prayed all night to God that it might yet be well with the -Knight. - -When the next morning dawned in the sky she looked, and lo! her champion -stood all refreshed and ready for the fray. Nor did the dragon draw back -from the encounter. Straightway the Knight, lifting high his sword, -dealt a great blow at the monster’s crest, and this time, whether the -sacred spring had given a keener edge to the steel or had put new -strength into the arm which wielded it, it did that which never steel -had done before, for it made a great yawning wound. Then the dragon, -wrought to fury by the pain, lifted his tail high over his head, and -brought down upon his adversary the deadly double sting which lay in the -end. Through the shield it made its way, and fixed itself in his -shoulder. Grievous was the smart, but the Knight, thinking only of -victory and honour, did not flinch beneath it, but, gathering all his -strength, shore off the furthest joints of the tail, so that not the -half of it was left. But not yet was the battle won. For now the dragon -laid his two mighty claws upon the Knight, seizing his foot with one and -his shield with the other. Sorely was he now beset, for though with a -blow of his sword he rid himself of the one claw, the other held him -fast. At the same time there burst forth from the monsters mouth such -blasts of fire, such clouds of smoke, that he was constrained to retire -a little backward, and so, retiring, he slipped in the mire and fell. -Yet the matter turned to his good, for the same Spring of Life refreshed -and healed him as before, nor did the dragon dare to come near, for he -could not have aught to do with a thing so pure and holy. And so the -second day came to its ending. - -This night also did the Lady Una pray for her Knight throughout the -hours of darkness, and the morning found her watching as before. But -with the third day came a speedy end to that fierce encounter. The -dragon, full of rage to be so baulked of his prey, ran at the Knight -with mouth wide open as if to swallow him alive. And he was not slow to -seize the occasion, for his foe had laid bare before him its most vital -part. Right into the monster’s mouth he drove his sword with all the -strength that was in him. Nor had he need to strike again, for the -monster fell as falls some cliff which the waves of the sea for many -years have worn away. High and strong it seems to stand, but it falls -far and wide in sudden ruin. - -There is no need to tell in many words how the king and queen of that -land came forth from their prison with great gladness, and how the -people of the land rejoiced to be rid of so foul a tyranny, and how the -Lady Una seemed to be fairer than ever when she came forth in her robe -of state, and how the Knight and she were duly betrothed. “Fain would I -stay,” said the Knight, “but I am under promise to Queen Gloriana to -serve her for six years against the infidel.” “So be it,” said the king -of the land, “go, keep your promise as becomes a noble knight, and know -that when you shall return you shall have my daughter to wife and my -kingdom also, for this I have ever purposed in my heart, that he who -should deliver it from the foul tyranny should have it for his own, for -none could be more fit.” - - - - - CHAPTER XI - OF SIR GUYON AND THE LADY MEDINA - - -Archimage did not suffer long from his overthrow by Sansloy, for he had -devices at his command by which he could recover himself from all -sicknesses, howsoever sore they might be. And, being recovered, he set -himself to do some hurt to the Red-Cross Knight, who, by this time, had -bidden farewell to the Lady Una, and was journeying to render service to -Queen Gloriana. - -As he was travelling with this purpose in his heart, he came upon a very -noble knight, clad in armour from top to toe, who was riding slowly -along the road, reigning back his horse’s pace to suit the steps of a -venerable pilgrim, who journeyed by his side. Archimage laid his hand -upon the neck of the knight’s horse and said: “Sir Knight, I pray you to -help one who is sadly in need of succour for himself and for another, of -whom he is in charge.” And while he spoke he made great pretence of fear -and trouble, trembling and weeping. - -“Speak on,” answered Sir Guyon, for this was the knight’s name. “Speak -on, and I will not fail to help you, and the other of whom you speak.” - -“Oh, sir,” said Archimage, “I am a squire, and I have a lady in charge -to deliver her to her parents, but there is a certain evil-minded Knight -who hinders me. I know not what I shall do, and she goes in deadly fear -that some great harm will happen to her.” - -“And where is the lady?” asked Sir Guyon. - -“Come, sir,” the false squire made answer, “and I will bring you to -her.” So the two went together, and found a lady sitting under a tree, -weeping sore, with her garments all dishevelled and torn. - -“Fair lady,” said Sir Guyon, “it troubles me much to see you in this -plight. But take heart; I will surely call him who has done you any -wrong to strict account. But let me hear your complaint.” - -So she told him her tale. And when she had ended he said: “But who is -this man; by what name or by what signs shall I know him?” - -“His name,” said she, “I know not; but this I know, that he rode upon a -steed of dappled grey, and that he carried a shield of silver with a red -cross upon it.” - -“Now by my head,” cried Sir Guyon, “I know this same Knight, and I -wonder such that he should have behaved so ill. He is a good Knight and -a true, and, I hear, has won great renown in the cause of a fair lady. I -was myself present in the Queen’s court when he took this task upon -himself, which he has now performed with great honour. Nevertheless, I -will try him in this matter, and he must needs either show that he is -free from blame, or make due amends.” - -Now she that made all this show of grief was the false Duessa, and -Archimage had found her wandering in miserable plight after Prince -Arthur had dealt with her as has been told above. And having found her, -he decked her out with robes and ornaments, and made her to appear -passing fair, such arts he had. This he did because she helped him much -when he would tempt a knight into evil ways. - -“And now, squire,” said Sir Guyon, “can you lead me to the place where -the Knight of whom you make this complaint may be found?” - -“That can I,” said Archimage; and he led him to a shady valley hard by, -in the midst of which was a stream both clear and cold, and on the bank -of the stream sat a knight with his helmet unlaced, who drank of the -water as one who was resting after a long journey. “Sir,” said -Archimage, “yonder is the evil Knight; he would fain hide himself from -the punishment of his deeds.” - -Then Sir Guyon addressed himself to the fight, and the Red-Cross Knight -likewise. But ere they encountered each other they stayed their hands: -“Pardon me, fair sir, that I had well-nigh set my spear against the -sacred badge which you bear upon your shield.” - -“And I, too,” answered the Red-Cross Knight, “would likewise crave -pardon for like violence to that fair image of a maiden which is your -device.” - -Then they held converse together. Sir Guyon told his tale, but when he -had ended it he looked, and lo! the false squire, the deceiver -Archimage, had fled, knowing that his device had come to naught. And now -the pilgrim that bore Sir Guyon company came up, and when he saw the -Red-Cross Knight, he said: “Fair son, God give you praise and peace for -ever. You indeed have won your place; but ours is yet to win.” - -“His be the praise,” answered the Red-Cross Knight, “by whose grace I am -what I am.” So they parted with much courtesy, going each his several -way. - -After a while they came to a fair castle by the sea where the Lady -Medina had her dwelling, Sir Guyon toiling painfully on foot, because, -when he was helping an unhappy traveller, a knave had stolen away his -horse. This Lady Medina was one of three sisters, and of the three -Elissa was the eldest and Perissa the youngest. These two were always at -variance, not a little with Medina, but still more with each other, and -she being always of an equal mind, and wise conduct, had the chief -authority in the place, though, indeed, their father had left it to the -three in equal shares. Elissa had for lover a certain Sir Hudibras, a -famous knight, but in deeds scarce equal to his high repute. He had a -most mighty body and sturdy limbs, but his wit was small. Perissa’s -knight was Sansloy, of whom mention has already been made. Never was man -more reckless, indeed, more careless of right and wrong. So soon as -these two heard that a stranger knight was come to the castle, then they -issued forth to fight with him, their ladies following; yet such was -their folly that even on the way they fell out and joined in deadly -fray, to the great disturbance of the house. Much did Sir Guyon marvel -as, entering the hall, he saw the fray. - -“This,” said he to himself, “must have an end,” and, carrying his shield -on his left arm and with his right hand unsheathing his sword, he ran in -between the two. They with one consent turned their arms against him, -just as a bear and tiger in the desert plains of Africa, when some -traveller comes in sight, leave their strife and fall upon him with one -mind. It was a strange fight indeed, and Sir Guyon had fared ill, but -for his surpassing strength and courage, and even these might have -failed him in a conflict so unequal, but that the Lady Medina, hearing -in her bower of what had befallen, ran forth, with bare bosom and -dishevelled hair, and fell on her knees and besought them to abate their -strife: “Now, my lords!” she cried, “by the mothers that bare you, and -by the love that you have for your fair ladies, and by the knighthood to -which you owe your homage, I beseech you to put away this fury and to be -at peace among yourselves.” So she besought them, and though the two -sisters stood by, not helping a whit, but rather stirring up each her -champion to fiercer wrath, she prevailed. The knights let fall their -swords, and bowed their heads before her, and vowed to do her bidding. -Then she, fearing that their resolve might be unstable, bound them by a -treaty, which they, on their part, swore, on their knightly honour, that -they would keep for all time to come. - -This done she bade them all, both knights and ladies, to a fair banquet. -And when they had had enough of meat and drink, she said: “Tell us, Sir -Knight, on what errand you are come and what end you seek.” - -Then said Sir Guyon: “What you ask brings to my mind that great Queen, -fairest and best of all that are in the wide world. She is wont to make -a great feast on the first day of the New Year, to which come all -knights that seek adventure and desire to gain honour for themselves. At -this feast, at the beginning of the self-same year, I was present; and -it came to pass that this pilgrim whom you have bidden with me to your -feast, stood forth before the Queen, and made his complaint of a certain -wicked fairy that wasted the land wherein he dwelt, and wrought great -damage to its inhabitants. And when he had ended the Queen set this task -to me, unworthy as I am. Nor did I refuse to take it in hand. Now the -name of this wicked fairy is Acrasia. Three times has the moon waxed and -waned since that day, and I have already seen full proofs of the -mischief which she works. To subdue her, therefore, and to bring her -captive into the presence of Queen Gloriana is the purpose which I set -before myself.” - -Then, the night being now far spent, all the guests betook themselves to -sleep. - - - - - CHAPTER XII - HOW SIR GUYON CAME INTO GREAT PERIL - - -Many perils did Sir Guyon encounter, which it would take too long time -to tell. Nor were there perils only of battle, such as befell in the -meeting of pagan knights and the like. For such he was well prepared; -never did sturdier champion lay spear in rest or wage war at close -quarters with his sword. Force could not overcome him, but he could be -led astray by fraud. So it was when, in his journeyings, he came to a -broad water, which seemed to bar his way. While he stood at the water’s -brink, wondering how he might win his way farther, suddenly there was -seen hard by a little boat rowed by a fair damsel. When he had told his -need she said: “Be content, fair sir; step you aboard and I will take -you to the place which you desire.” - -So Sir Guyon, nothing doubting, stepped into the boat. But when he would -have taken his guide, the pilgrim, with him, he was denied. “Nay, nay,” -said the damsel, “we have not space for the old man on this journey.” -And even while she was speaking the boat was already far from the land, -for indeed it was a magic craft; nor could he even say farewell. - -The two had pleasant converse awhile, for the damsel was gay and -debonair, and the knight courteous. Nevertheless, he somewhat misliked -her manner, and when in a short space they came to the other side of the -water, he perceived that he had been led astray, and was not a little -displeased. “Lady,” said he, “you have done me a wrong. This is not the -place which I sought; I did not think when I followed your bidding that -you would so deceive me.” - -“Sir Knight,” she answered, “he that will travel by water cannot always -command his way; winds and waves will not answer to his call: the sea is -wide, and ’tis easy to go astray thereon. Yet here, methinks, you may -abide awhile in peace.” - -So Sir Guyon stepped upon the shore, though he was but half-content to -find himself in such a plight. Nevertheless, he could not but perceive -that it was a right pleasant place to which he had come, for the ground -was covered with flowers, and the trees were green with the fresh leaves -of spring, and the sweet singing of birds was heard on every side. And -fairer and more pleasant than all else was the damsel of the boat; -nevertheless, Sir Guyon was ever on the watch, nor would he suffer -himself to be beguiled. “Maybe,” he said to himself, “this fair dame -designs to turn me from my quest. Why did she, as by design, part me -from my guide? Why did she turn me aside from the way in which I desired -to go? This was more, I doubt not, than an idle whim.” She, on the other -hand, perceived that she had failed of her intent, and was, in truth, as -willing that he should go as he was eager to depart. So after a while -she said: “Fair knight, I perceive that it irks you to abide in this -place. Suffer me, therefore, to carry you to the other shore.” - -Well content, he stepped into the boat, and was ferried across in the -shortest space of time. So he passed through this peril, it seemed, -without hurt, save indeed that he had lost his guide, for the damsel in -her craft took him to a place far from where the guide had been left; -and this losing of the guide was, as will be seen, a very sore hurt -indeed. - -After a while he came to a gloomy valley covered in on all sides from -the light of heaven with the thick branches of trees. And here, in the -deepest and darkest shade, he saw sitting a man of a most uncouth and -savage aspect, having his face all dark with smoke, and his eyes -bleared, and the hair of his head and his beard covered with soot. His -hands were black as the hands of one who works in a forge, and his nails -were like to claws. He had an iron coat, all rusty above, but underneath -of gold, and finely wrought with curious devices, though, indeed, it was -covered with dust and grime. In his lap he had a mass of golden coin, -which he counted, turning over each piece as if he would feed his eyes -with the delight of seeing them. Round about him were great heaps of -gold, some of them of rude ore, not yet smelted in the furnace, and some -smelted newly, in great squares and ingots, and others in round plates -without device; but for the most part they bore the devices of ancient -kings and Cæsars. When the man beheld Sir Guyon he rose as in great -fear, as if he would hide this precious store from a stranger’s eyes, -and began to pour it into a great hole that was thereby. But Sir Guyon, -leaping forward, caught him by the hand, and, though he was not a little -dismayed by the things which he saw, restrained him. - -“Man,” he said, “if, indeed, man you are, why sit you here apart, hiding -these piles of wealth, and keeping them from being rightly used by men?” - -“Truly,” answered the man, “you are bold and careless of yourself thus -to trouble me. Know that I am the god of this world, the greatest god -under heaven, Mammon by name. From me come riches and renown, powers and -honours, and all things which men covet upon earth. Know, then, that if -you will serve me, all these mountains of riches shall be yours; and if -these do not content you, I will give you tenfold more.” - -“Mammon,” answered the knight, “in vain do you boast your godhead; in -vain do you offer me your gifts. Keep them for such as covet such idle -things, and look for a more fitting servant. I am of those who regard -honour and strive for kingdoms; fair shields and steeds gaily bedight -and shining arms are pleasant to my eyes.” - -“Do you not perceive,” answered Mammon, “O foolish knight, that money -can furnish all these things in which you delight? Shields, and steeds, -and arms it can provide in the twinkling of an eye; ay, and crowns and -kingdoms also. I can throw down into the dust him that sits upon the -throne, and I can lift up to the throne him that lies in the dust.” - -“But I,” said Sir Guyon, “have other thoughts of riches; that infinite -mischiefs spring from them—strife and debate and bloodshed. No crowns -nor kingdoms are yours, but you turn loyal truth to treason; you break -the sacred diadem in pieces, and rend the purple robe of kingship. It is -of you that castles are surprised, great cities sacked and burned, and -kingdoms overthrown!” - -Then Mammon waxed wroth and cried: “Why, then, are men so eager to -obtain a thing so evil? Why do they so complain when they have it not, -and when they lose it, so upbraid?” - -And when the knight answered these questions by telling of how in the -old time man was content without riches, and how he had been corrupted -by the lust of gold and silver, Mammon replied: “Nay, my son, let be -these stories of ancient days. You who live in these latter times must -be content to take your wage for the work you do. Come now, you shall -have what you will of these riches; and if you like them not, then you -are free to refuse. Only, if you refuse, blame me not afterwards.” - -Then said the knight, for, being but mortal man, he was touched by the -sight of great riches: “I would not take aught that is offered me unless -I know that it has been rightly got. How can I be assured that you have -not taken these things unlawfully from the rightful owner?” - -“Nay,” cried Mammon, “that is but idle talk. Never did eye behold these -things, never did hand handle them. I have kept them secret both from -heaven and from earth.” - -“But,” said the knight, “what place is large enough to hold such store, -or safe enough to keep it from robbery?” - -“Come and see,” answered Mammon. And the knight followed him, but he had -done more wisely to stay behind. - -Mammon led him through the depths of the wood, till they came to a -secret way which was hollowed out in the earth. This they entered and -followed awhile, till they came to where it opened out into a wide -plain. Across the plain there was a broad highway which led to the -dwelling of Pluto. On either side of this road were dreadful shapes—Pain -holding an iron whip, and Strife with a bloody knife in his hand, and -Revenge, and Treason, and Jealousy. Fear, also, was there, ever -trembling, and seeking in vain where he might hide himself, and Sorrow, -crouching in darkness, and Shame, hiding her face from every eye. So -they came at last to a narrow door, which stood fast shut, with one -which was yawning wide open hard by. The narrow door was the door of -riches, and the wide the door of hell. This opened to Mammon of its own -accord; and Sir Guyon followed him, fearing nothing. But behind the -knight there followed close a monstrous fiend, watching him, that he -might do him to death if he should lay a covetous hand or cast a longing -eye on anything he might see; for such was the law of the place. The -walls and the floor and the roof were all gold, but covered with dust -and decay; and piled up on every side were huge chests of iron, bound -all of them with double bands, and on the floor were the bones of dead -men, who, in time past, had sought to win some spoil for themselves, and -so had come by their death. But not a word did Sir Guyon speak. So they -came to a great door of iron; this, too, opened to them as of its own -accord, and showed such a store of wealth as could not be seen in all -the world beside. Then Mammon turned to the knight and said: “See now -the happiness of the world; here is that for which men strive and -struggle. Lo! I lay before you all that you can desire.” - -The knight answered: “I do refuse your proffered grace. I seek not to be -made happy in such fashion. I set before mine eyes another happiness. I -seek another end; I would spend my life in brave deeds. I desire rather -to be lord of them who have riches than to have them for myself.” - -Mammon gnashed his teeth to hear such an answer, for he had thought that -the sight would overcome the soul of any mortal man, and that being so -overcome the knight would be his prey. But not yet did he give up all -hope. He led him into yet another chamber, in which were a hundred -furnaces all ablaze, and at every furnace strange creatures busy at -work. Some worked the bellows which raised the fire to white heat; and -some scummed off the dross from the molten gold, and some stirred it -with great ladles. But when they saw the shape of mortal man, they all -ceased from their work, and looked at him with wondering eyes. And he -was not a little dismayed to see them, so foul and hideous were they to -behold. - -Then Mammon spoke again: “See now what mortal eye has never seen before. -You would know whence come the riches which men so fervently desire. -Look, here you see their source and origin. Here is the fountain of the -world’s whole wealth. Think, and change your mood, lest haply hereafter -you may wish and not be able to obtain.” - -Said the knight, “Mammon, once more I refuse the thing which you offer. -I have all that I need; why should I ask for more? Suffer me to follow -my own way.” - -Great was Mammon’s wrath to hear his offers so refused, but he would try -yet another temptation. He took the Knight into a very lofty, spacious -chamber in which was assembled a great company of people from every -nation under heaven. All of them were pressing forward with great uproar -to the chamber’s upper end, where, upon a dais, was set a lofty throne. -On the throne there sat a woman gorgeously attired, clad in such royal -robes as never were worn by earthly prince. Right fair of face was she -to behold, of such a beauty that she seemed, as it were, to make a -brightness in the chamber. But the beauty was not indeed her own. It was -but a pretence, cunningly devised to delude the hearts of men. In her -hand she held a great chain, of which the upper end was fastened to the -sky, and the lower went down into hell. All the crowd that thronged -about her sought to lay hold of this same chain, hoping thereby to climb -to some high estate. Some were fain to rise by the help of riches, and -some by flattery, and some by help of friendship, but all thought only -of themselves. And they that were high kept others down, and they that -were low would not suffer others to rise; every man was against his -fellow. - -Then said Sir Guyon: “What means this that I see? What is this throng -that crowds about the lady’s throne? And the lady, who is she?” - -Mammon answered: “That fair lady about whom these people crowd is my own -dear daughter. Her name is Philotime (which, being interpreted, is Love -of Honour). She is the fairest woman on the earth, could you but see her -in the upper air, for the darkness of the place hides her beauty. Her, -if you will, you shall have to wife, that she may advance you to high -dignity.” - -“I thank you, sir,” said the knight, “for the honour which you design -for me. But I am only mortal man, and not fit match for an immortal -mate. And were it otherwise, my troth is given to another, and it would -ill become a loyal knight to break his faith.” - -Again was Mammon greatly moved to wrath, but he hid it in his heart, and -led the knight into a garden full of herbs and trees, not such as earth -puts forth, in the upper air, to delight the souls of men: but such as -have about them the atmosphere of death. The cypress was there, and the -black ebony, and hemlock, which unjust Athens gave in old times to -Socrates, wisest of mortal men. These were gloomy to behold. But in the -midst was a tree, splendid with apples of gold. Hercules planted it with -the apples which he won from the garden of the daughters of Atlas, and -it bore fruits which were the occasions of strife, such as that which -Discord threw among the guests at the marriage-feast of Peleus and -Thetis. “For the Fairest!” was written on it. Hence came the strife of -the goddesses, and the Judgment of Paris, and the stealing of Helen, and -the bringing to the ground of the towers of Troy. - -Much did the knight marvel to see the tree, for it spread its branches -far and wide across the garden, and even beyond the garden’s bounds; for -it was compassed about with a great mound. And the knight, desiring to -see all that could be seen of so strange a place, climbed upon the bank -and looked. And lo! there flowed below it a dark and dismal stream, -which men call the River of Wailing. In this he saw many miserable -creatures; and one he noted especially, who was always clutching at the -fruit which hung from the tree, and making as though he would drink from -the stream; and still the fruit seemed to draw back from his hand and -the water from his mouth. The knight, seeing him so tormented, asked him -who he was and how he came to be in such a plight. - -“I am Tantalus,” answered the wretch, “the most miserable of all men; in -old time I feasted with the gods, and now I die of hunger and thirst.” - -Looking a little further he saw one who sought to wash in the stream -hands covered with filth; but for all that he washed they were not one -whit the cleaner. And when the knight inquired of him who he might be, -he answered: “I am Pontius Pilate, most unjust of judges. I condemned -most unrighteously the Lord of Life to die, and washed my hands to show -that I was innocent of his blood, but in truth I was most guilty.” - -Then Mammon, coming to him again, said: “Will you not even now take of -the good things which I offer you, for yet there is time?” - -But Sir Guyon was aware of his guile, and would not. “Take me back,” he -said, “to the place from which I came,” and Mammon was constrained to -obey, for it was not permitted to him to keep the knight or any man -against his will. He led him back, therefore, to the upper air; but as -soon as Sir Guyon felt the wind blow upon his face, for want of food and -sleep he fell into a swoon, and lay without sense upon the ground. - - - - - CHAPTER XIII - OF TWO PAGAN KNIGHTS - - -While Sir Guyon was beholding the wonders of the house of Mammon, his -faithful guide, the pilgrim, was seeking him, and came by happy chance, -or leading of the powers above, to the place where he lay. Sore troubled -he was to see him in so sore a plight, for indeed he lay as one that was -dead. Nevertheless, feeling his pulse with trembling hand, the pilgrim -found that it still did beat. Thereat greatly rejoicing he tended him -with all care and kindness. - -While he was busy with this tending, he lifted his eyes and saw two -knights riding towards him clad in bright armour and an old man pacing -by their side. The two were brothers, Pyrochles and Cymochles by name, -and the old man was Archimage. Well he knew who they were, for Sir Guyon -had done battle with the two in the time past, and had vanquished them, -nor did he doubt that the old man, for all his reverend looks, was a -wicked sorcerer. And they, too, knew who he was, and that the knight who -lay upon the ground was their whilom adversary, Sir Guyon. And first Sir -Pyrochles cried aloud: “Old man, leave that dead man to us. A traitor -and a coward he was, while he was yet alive; and now he lies -dishonoured!” - -“Nay, Sir Knight,” answered the pilgrim, “you do wrong so to revile the -dead. He was a true knight and valiant in the field, as none know more -surely than yourself.” - -Then said the other pagan, Cymochles: “Old man, you dote. And, indeed, -what know you of knighthood and valour? All is not gold that glitters; -nor are all good knights that know how to set spear in rest and use the -sword. Let a man be judged by his end. There he lies dead on the field, -and the dead are nothing worth.” - -Pyrochles spoke again: “Ay, he is dead and I must forego the vengeance -that I vowed to have upon him. Nevertheless, what I can that will I -have. I will despoil him of his arms. Why should a dead body be arrayed -in so noble a fashion?” - -“Nay, Sir Knight,” cried the pilgrim, “I pray you not to do so foul a -deed. ’Tis a vile thing to rob the dead. Surely it would better befit a -noble knight to leave these things to be the ornament of his tomb.” - -“What tomb?” cried Pyrochles, in his rage; “the raven and the kite are -tomb enough for such as he.” - -Thus speaking, he laid a rude hand upon Sir Guyon’s shield, and -Cymochles began to unlace his helmet. But while they were so busied, -they chanced to spy a knight of gallant mien and bravely accoutred, -riding towards them, with a squire behind him, who carried a spear of -ebony and a covered shield. And Archimage, so cunning was he, knew him -from afar, and he cried to the two brothers: “Rise, prepare yourselves -for battle. Here comes the sturdiest knight in all the world, Prince -Arthur. Many a pagan has he laid low in battle. You must use all your -skill to hold your own against him.” - -So the two made themselves ready for battle. And now the strange knight -rode up, and with all courtesy made his salute to the company, to which -greeting the two brothers made but a churlish return. He said to the -pilgrim: “Tell me, reverend sir, what misfortune has befallen this -knight. Did he die in course of nature, or by treason, or in fair -fight?” - -Said the pilgrim: “He is not dead, but in a swoon that has the likeness -of death.” - -Then Prince Arthur, turning to the two brothers, said with all courtesy: -“Valiant sirs, who, I doubt not, have just complaint against this -knight, who lies here dead, or seeming dead upon the ground, will you -not abate your wrath awhile? I would not challenge your right, but would -rather entreat your pardon for this helpless body.” - -“But who are you?” said Cymochles, “that make yourself his daysman? Who -are you that would hinder me from wreaking on his vile carcase the -vengeance which I should have required had he lived? The man is dead, -but his offence still lives.” - -“It is but true,” said the Prince, “that evil lives after death, and -that the curse goes down even to the third and fourth generation, so -stern is the judgment of God. But yet the knight who raises his hand -against the dead, sins against his honour.” - -But Pyrochles made reply: “Stranger, you make yourself a sharer in the -dead man’s crime.” And as he spoke, he lifted his great sword and dealt -a blow which, but that the Prince’s horse swerved aside, had surely laid -him on the earth. He reeled somewhat in the saddle, but so true was his -seat, still kept his place. - -Great was his wrath at such treacherous attack. “Traitor,” he said, “you -have broken the law of arms, so to strike without challenge given, and -you shall suffer such penalty as befits.” So speaking, he thrust his -spear, and thought with that one thrust to end the battle. And so, -indeed, it would have fallen out, but for Sir Guyon’s shield, which the -pagan carried. Yet even through this, with its seven folds, did the -spear-head pass, and pierced Pyrochles’ shoulder, and drove him bleeding -to the earth. - -When Cymochles saw what had happened, he leapt forward in great wrath, -crying: “Now, by Mahomet, cursed thief! You shall pay for this blow!” -and smote him on the crest so mightily that he had no chance but to -leave his saddle, else had his head been cleft in twain. Now was the -Prince in no small distress, for what could he do with his spear alone -against two stalwart knights? For sword he had none, and they too were -both fully armed, and well skilled in fight, unwounded one, and the -other wounded indeed, but only made thereby more furious. Bravely did he -bear himself, and bravely held his own, wounding now this adversary and -now that, yet did not himself escape without hurt, for Cymochles wounded -him sorely in the side, so that the blood flowed out amain. And when the -brothers saw it, they rejoiced greatly, thinking that the end had come. -But now the pilgrim, seeing that the Prince was hard bested, and all for -want of a sword, came near and put Sir Guyon’s blade into his hand, -saying, “My son, God bless your right hand; use the sword as he that -owns it would have used!” - -Right glad was the knight to have this help, and advanced himself with -new courage to his task. He smote first this brother and then that, and -both so fiercely that, though they were two against one, they could not -hold their own, but began to give way. Only the Prince was at this -disadvantage that, when Pyrochles held out against him the shield of Sir -Guyon with the likeness of Queen Gloriana on it, his hand retreated and -forebore the stroke. Once and again was the pagan saved thereby from -instant doom. But for all that the appointed hour drew nigh. Cymochles, -thinking to end the battle, smote the Prince upon the hauberk. So fierce -was the blow, that it broke the links of the mail in twain, and made the -Prince to reel, as he had never reeled before. But his courage rose all -the higher, and his strength seemed to be doubled. High in the air he -lifted Sir Guyon’s sword, and smote the pagan’s helmet so fiercely that -he shore it in two, and the steel pierced to the brain, so that he fell -dying to the ground. - -When Pyrochles beheld what had befallen his brother, he was so filled -with rage that he cast away all caution and care, and rushed in madman’s -fashion upon the Prince. And now might be seen how an evil deed finds -its recompense. The sword which the pagan carried was, in truth, the -Prince’s own, which had been filched from him by craft. Now Archimage -had warned the knight before, saying: “Use not this blade against its -rightful lord; it will not serve your will.” And well he knew that he -spoke the truth. But Pyrochles had laughed him to scorn, saying: - -“You think too much, old man, of magic charms and words.” - -Yet now he found that the old man’s words were true. So perceiving that -he smote to no purpose, he threw the sword down and leapt upon the -Prince, and caught him round the middle and thought to throw him to the -earth. But he strove to no purpose, for the Prince surpassed him both in -strength and in skill, so that he was thrown to the ground, whereon he -lay helpless as a bittern in the claws of an eagle. Full of rage he was, -but he did not move nor cast a look upon his conqueror. But the Prince, -full of courtesy and kindness, said: “Pagan, this is an evil day for -you; but if you will give up your false faith, and yield yourself to be -my liegeman for ever, I will give you life in reward for your courage, -and blot out from my memory all your misdeeds.” - -“Fool,” cried the pagan in his rage, “I defy your gift; use your fortune -as you will, slay me, for I would not live at your behest.” And the -Prince, much against his will, smote him that he died. - -And now Sir Guyon, waking from his swoon, saw the pilgrim at his side, -and cried out with joy, “Dear friend, for lack of whose guidance I have -wandered long, how gladly do I see you again. But where are my shield -and my sword?” Then the pilgrim told him what had befallen, and the -knight rendered his thanks to the Prince right courteously, and he as -courteously received them. - - - - - CHAPTER XIV - OF QUEEN ACRASIA - - -All day the two journeyed together with much sweet converse, and, when -it was evening, they came to a fair castle, of which the gate was fast -barred. So the Prince bade his squire wind his horn under the castle -wall, which thing he did with such a will, that a watchman straightway -looked forth from an upper storey; but the gate was barred as before. -“What want you, strangers?” he asked. - -“We seek shelter for the night,” answered the squire. - -“Fly,” cried the man, “fly, my friends, for your lives. Willingly would -I give you shelter, but this is no safe abiding place, so closely and -fiercely do our enemies assail us. Truly many knights, coming as you -have come this day, have perished miserably.” And while he was speaking -a thousand villainous creatures swarmed up from all the rocks and caves -about, armed in the strangest fashion, some with pikes, and some with -clubs, and some with stakes hardened in the fire. Fiercely they rushed -at the knights and their company, and for a while drove them back by -mere force of numbers. But soon they were forced to fly, and though they -came again and again, yet before the night fell they departed and left -the travellers in peace. And now the castle gate was opened wide, and -the lady of the place, Alma by name, coming to the door with a fair -company of knights and dames, bade them welcome. Then she showed them -her castle, which was marvellously well-ordered in all its parts. There -was a noble hall in which the guests—and there was already gathered a -goodly company of knights and ladies—were entertained; and a library -where there was a great store of goodly books, and all other things -which the heart of man could desire. - -On the morrow, Sir Guyon and his guide set forth again, but Prince -Arthur tarried behind, desiring to help the Lady Alma against the -enemies who sought to take her castle. And this he did in such a fashion -that she was troubled no more with them. Yet of his great deeds I will -not further speak, being rather concerned with the doings of Sir Guyon, -who was indeed now come to the accomplishment of his task. - -First they came to a great water, where there was a ferry-boat ready -prepared for their coming. In this they embarked and set forth, a stout -ferryman being at hand to manage the craft. Two days they sailed and saw -no land; but on the third day, as the light began to dawn in the East, -they heard the sound of a great roaring. Now the pilgrim held the tiller -and steered the craft. To him said the ferryman: “Pilgrim, steer an even -course; there is a dangerous place which we must pass across,—on the one -side is a great whirlpool, and a ship that comes too near it is sure to -sink, and on the other a great rock of magnet, which, if we keep not a -due distance, will draw us to itself. Steer then so that we may not fall -into this danger or into that.” - -Right skilfully did the pilgrim steer, and great was the need. The -whirlpool, indeed, showed no sign of what had happened there before, for -all was swallowed up in its depths; but on the rock they saw the ribs of -ships which had been broken upon it, and the bones of men lying in its -clefts. And birds of prey, mews and cormorants and the like, sat -watching for such spoils as should come. Right willingly did they pass -from that place of death. And when the ferryman, plying his oars with -sturdy strength, had rowed awhile, Sir Guyon cried, pointing with his -hand: “I see land yonder; steer thereto, good sir.” - -“Nay,” said the ferryman, “it is not so. That is no land which you see, -but what men call the Wandering Islands. Many men have come to their -deaths through them. They seem firm ground, fairly grown with trees and -grass and flowers; but let a man once set his foot upon them, he can -never recover it again.” - -So they journeyed on in a straight course, and in so doing came to one -of these islands, whereon they espied a fair lady sitting. On the rock -she sat, and she had a little boat hard by. “Come hither, my friends,” -she said. “I have somewhat here which I would show you, and which you -would willingly see.” - -But Sir Guyon said: “Nay, nay. We are otherwise minded; this is the Lady -of the Lake who caused me to be parted from my guide.” So they passed -on, and took no heed. But when, after a while, they passed hard by -another island, on which sat a maiden in sore distress, as it seemed, -Sir Guyon’s heart was moved; for was it not a good knight’s part to -succour ladies in distress? “Steer thither,” he cried. - -“Not so. This damsel in distress is but a show; no damsel she, but some -ill creature ready to devour any that she may deceive.” So they passed -on, nor did they halt when, passing by a pleasant bay, they heard a -sound of sweet singing. - -“O Guyon,” such was the song which they heard, “flower of chivalry, most -famous of all knights upon earth, turn thy bark hither, and rest -awhile.” - -“Listen not,” said the pilgrim, “they do but seek to lure you to your -death.” - -These things past, they came to the place for which they were bound. And -the pilgrim said: “This, Sir Knight, is the place where you must contend -for the mastery. Take your arms, and make yourself ready, for the hour -of trial is at hand.” - -And now the ferryman drove the boat upon the shore, and Sir Guyon and -his guide stepped out upon the sand. Straightway they heard a hideous -bellowing as of savage beasts, and soon the beasts themselves came in -view, threatening as if they would devour them. But no sooner did the -pilgrim hold out his staff than they ceased their roaring, and humbled -themselves to the ground. And now they came to the Bower of Bliss, a -place most daintily adorned with all that could please the eye. The -porch by which they entered was of ivory cunningly adorned with carved -work, in which was told the story of Jason and Medea; how he sailed in -the good ship _Argo_, and how he won the love of the king’s daughter, -and how she helped him to win the fleece of gold from the dragon which -guarded it, and how she fled with him over the sea. And when they had -passed through the porch they came to a very fair meadow, adorned with -the fairest trees and flowers. And the meadow being passed they came to -another gate, where there sat a comely damsel, who pressed the clusters -of a vine which hung above her head into a cup. This cup she proffered -to the knight, and he, suspecting evil in all that seemed most fair and -pleasant, took it from her hand, and threw it violently on the ground, -so that it was broken into many pieces, and all the liquor was spilt. - -[Illustration: Sir Guyon and the Men in Bestial Shapes.] - -Many other tempting sights did they see, and all the knight passed by -unscathed, the pilgrim not ceasing on occasion to give counsel and -warning. So at last they came to the most sacred place of the Bower, -where the queen herself, Acrasia by name, had her abode. Fair she was -beyond all words and daintily arrayed, and at her feet there lay a -goodly knight asleep. He was of goodly aspect, just come to the years of -manhood, with the down newly sprung upon his cheeks and his lips. His -arms hung idly on a tree hard by, but his shield was without an emblem, -as if he had put away the purpose of his life. - -Sir Guyon and the pilgrim drew near, none seeming to heed them, so -occupied were they with the pleasures of the place. And then the pilgrim -threw over the queen and the knight a net which he had cunningly -prepared for that same purpose. Fast did it hold them for all their -struggles, neither force nor art could avail them, though they strove -with all their might. The queen being thus captured, they bound her with -chains of adamant, for nothing else could hold her safely; but the -knight they soon set free, for he was of a noble nature, though it was -much decayed by evil ways, and he was willing to take to himself good -advice and counsel. And the beauty and glory of the Bower did they -deface and spoil, the goodly carvings they broke in pieces, and cut down -the pleasant groves. As for the beasts, when the pilgrim raised his -staff over them, they left their bestial shapes and came back to their -own, for, indeed, they were men whom this same evil queen had changed to -the forms and thoughts of beasts. So did Sir Guyon perform the command -of Queen Gloriana. - - - - - CHAPTER XV - BRITOMART - - -Sir Guyon returned to rest awhile in the castle of the Lady Alma, where -also he had Prince Arthur for companion. Acrasia he sent to Queen -Gloriana under a strong guard, lest perchance her friends and followers, -of whom there was great multitude, should seek to deliver her. After a -while the two knights set out again on their journey. Many good deeds -they did, helping the weak and setting right the things that were wrong. -It happened on a certain day that they espied a knight riding towards -them, with an aged squire by his side, who seemed too weak for the -burden which he bare. The knight had a shield with the device of a lion -on a field of gold. Sir Guyon said to Prince Arthur, “Let me, I pray -you, have this turn.” - -So he put his spear to rest, and charged, and the stranger did likewise. -They met full and fair; Sir Guyon’s spear, so fast and furious was the -onset, was like to pierce the stranger’s shield, but this it did not -avail to do, nor did it drive the stranger from his seat: nevertheless -he was somewhat shaken. On the other hand, Sir Guyon himself was carried -back, ere he was aware, nigh upon a spear’s length behind the crupper of -his saddle, yet without hurt to life or limb. Nevertheless his anger was -great, for never since the day when he first bore arms as a knight had -he been dismounted in such fashion. And indeed, if he had known the -whole truth of the matter, his anger had been both less and greater; -less because the spear by which he had been overthrown was of the magic -sort, and greater, because the knight by whom he had been overthrown was -no man, but a maid, even the famous Britomart. Full of rage he was and -hot to do away his disgrace, as leaping from the ground he drew his -sword. And now the pilgrim in great haste came between the knight and -his purpose, for being a holy man and wise, he perceived that there was -some marvellous power in that same spear-point. This indeed he did not -disclose, for it was not lawful so to do, but he made other pretence: -“Nay, Sir Knight, it were ill advised to seek amends with your sword for -the mischance of your spear. If haply your steed swerved somewhat to the -side, or your page was somewhat careless in the ordering of your -equipage, why should you be so carried away by wrath; for, remember, you -have no quarrel with this knight.” - -With such prudent counsels did the pilgrim pacify Sir Guyon’s wrath. -Thus concord was made between the two, in which the prince also was -joined. - -When they had journeyed awhile Prince Arthur and Sir Guyon set off on an -adventure of their own, to rescue some fair lady in distress. But -Britomart, finding that they two would suffice for that enterprise, on -which her own mind was in nowise set, rode on without company until she -came to a fair castle, with a meadow before the gate, on which she saw -six knights setting upon one. He was not a little pressed by such odds, -yet in nowise dismayed. Indeed, the six dared not to stand up against -him face to face, so shrewd were the blows which he dealt them, but -sought to take him at a disadvantage from behind. Britomart endured not -to see such knavish work, but setting spurs to her horse and crying -aloud, “Have done with such foul tricks,” made all haste to help. And -when they ceased awhile from the attack, she said to the single knight: -“How comes it, sir, that you do battle in such fashion and at such -odds?” - -“Sir,” he made answer, “these six would have me swear that the lady of -this castle hard by is fairer than the lady whom I love. Now that I -utterly refuse; I had sooner die than break my plighted word in such a -fashion.” - -Then said one of the six, speaking for his fellows: “In this castle -which you see there dwells a lady of such a beauty that none in all the -world can be compared with her. She has ordained this law, that any -knight coming to this place, if he have no lady-love already, shall vow -himself to her service; but if he have such a lady-love, then he shall -confess that she is of less grace and beauty, or failing so to do, shall -do battle with us.” - -“By heaven!” cried Britomart, “this is a hard choice! And tell me, pray, -if this knight be obedient to this same law, what reward shall he have?” - -“He shall have the lady’s fair regard. But tell us, sir, for -yourself—have you a lady-love?” - -“That,” said Britomart, “I answer not; whether I have such or have not, -I pay no such homage as you ask to your lady. Rather, I take up this -good knight’s cause against you.” And even while she spoke, she rode at -one of the six and laid him low upon the ground, and then at another, -and then again at a third, with the like end. Meanwhile the knight had -discomfited the fourth. And the two that were left were fain to sue for -peace. “See,” said Britomart, “how truth and honour prevail!” - -Then was Britomart taken into the castle and received with great honour. -Yet she misliked the place and the company, for that they both seemed -unduly given over to ease and luxury. Nor would she doff her armour, -nor, indeed, do aught but raise the visor of her helmet. And when the -lady of the place, seeing that the stranger was very fair and of a noble -presence, bore herself as one greatly enamoured, she departed in great -discontent. The six knights would fain have stopped her going, and one -of them, Gardanté by name, shooting with an arrow, for to come to closer -quarters was not to his mind, wounded her in the side. But he and his -companions received manifold more hurt than they gave, not only from -Britomart, but from the strange knight and Sir Guyon also, for they, -hearing the tumult, came to her help. - -As they journeyed, it came into Sir Guyon’s mind to inquire of his -companion concerning her condition, and how she came to be wandering in -these parts. Britomart was not a little disturbed by this questioning. -For a while she was silent, and could make no answer, but trembled and -blushed, no knight but a very woman. But when the passion had passed, -and she had gathered her strength together, she said: “Sir Knight, I -would have you know that from a child I have been trained in things of -war, to carry a shield, and to put spear in rest, that the life of ease, -which women, for the most part, follow, pleased me not; and as for -fingering the fine needle and the slender thread, by heaven! I had -sooner be struck dead by a foeman’s spear! And so, all my heart being -set on deeds of arms and perilous adventures, by sea and by land, -wheresoever they might be met, I came from my own country, which men -call the Greater Britain, into this land. For it was told me that in -this same fairy land many such adventures were to be found, and much -glory and honour won thereupon. And now, courteous sir, I would ask you -one question: Know you, perchance, of one Artegall, for he has done me a -wrong for which I would fain requite him?” - -Scarcely had she spoken the words, when she fain would have called them -back. But Sir Guyon, taking them up with no small heat, made answer: -“Fair warrior, surely you do ill to accuse so true and loyal a knight as -is Sir Artegall with ill-behaviour. Truly of all who have ever taken -part in tilt or tourney, there is not one that stands in better repute -than he. It were indeed the greatest of marvels that he should do an -unworthy act, or even think in his heart an unworthy thought. And if you -have come with such a purpose in your heart, then I say that you have -journeyed far on a false errand.” - -Now Britomart, in her secret heart, was glad to hear such praises of Sir -Artegall. For, indeed, as will be seen, she loved him, and it was her -woman’s craft, by speaking ill of him to his friends, so to call forth -his praises. And when, with this thought in her heart, she had again -uttered some injurious words concerning him, Sir Guyon answered: “It -would be well, lady, that you should listen to reason in this matter. -Truly he is not one whom you can compel by force to do this thing or -that, for there is not, I take it, a knight upon earth that can match -him in equal fight. And, indeed, for what you ask me, where is Sir -Artegall to be found, I cannot tell you. He is not one who will remain -for long time in any certain place; rather he wanders round the world, -seeking occasion for great deeds, by which he can help to right such as -suffer wrong.” - -Britomart was greatly pleased to hear such praises of the knight. Still -she dissembled the matter and said: “Whether it be easy or hard to find -the man I know not; but at least I would know how I may profitably seek -him. Tell me some mark by which I may know him, the manner of his -shield, the fashion of his arms, the bearing of his steed, and other -things by which I may certainly know the man should I chance to -encounter him.” Then Sir Guyon told her all that she would know, and -she, listening to all that he said, found it most welcome to her heart. - - - - - CHAPTER XVI - OF MERLIN’S MAGIC MIRROR - - -There was a certain king of old time in the land of Deheubarth, which -men now call South Wales. His name was Ryence, and he had for his -principal counsellor one Merlin, who was a great magician. This Merlin -made by his art a wonderful mirror, which was so contrived that he who -looked in it could see anything from the lowest parts of the earth to -the highest part of the heavens, if only it concerned him. If a foe -contrived any evil against him, if a friend had used any falsehood in -respect of him, there he could see it plainly set forth. This mirror -Merlin gave to the king for a protection, that if at any time an enemy -should invade his dominions, he should know of his design before tidings -could come to him from without, and so should be able to be beforehand -with him. Never had prince a more noble present, nor one more worthy of -reward, for there could be no treason within the realm or enmity without -but that it came straightway to the king’s knowledge. - -Now Britomart was the daughter of King Ryence, and it chanced on a -certain day that she came into his closet, for he kept nothing secret -from her, seeing that she was his only child and the heir of his -kingdom, and there saw Merlin’s mirror. She had seen it indeed not once -or twice only, and knew its virtues. There came into her head the -thought that she might see therein the image of the man who should be -her husband. Such a thought maidens are wont to entertain, and -Britomart, being her father’s only child, and knowing that she would one -day come to the kingdom, was the more curious in this regard, nor had -she had to that time any thought of one man more than of another. So -looking into the mirror she saw a very comely knight, armed cap-à-pie. -He had the visor of his helmet up, showing a face that would strike fear -into an enemy and be loving to a friend. He was tall of stature, and -bore himself with a manly grace. For his crest he had a hound couchant, -and his armour seemed of ancient fashion, massive and strong to look at; -on it was written in old letters these words, “The Arms of Achilles -which Artegall did win.” The shield was of seven folds, and it bore an -ermilin crowned, white on a field of blue. The maiden looked and liked -well what she saw, and went her way, not knowing—such was the simplicity -of her age—that she had seen with her eyes the fate that should rule the -fortunes of her life. That keen archer Love had wounded her with his -arrow, but she knew it not. Yet from that day she began to droop. No -longer did she carry herself with princely pride. Sad and solemn was -she, and full of fancies, yet knew not why. That she ailed somewhat she -was well aware, but thought it was not love, but some passing mood of -melancholy. Such was she by day, and at night, when she laid herself -down to rest, sleep fled far from her eyes. She kept a sorrowful watch -as the hours of the night went by, and she watered her couch with her -tears; and if, when nature was worn out with these long watchings, she -fell into some brief slumber, then some fearful dreams would come and -bring with them a worse unrest. - -One night her nurse, Glaucé by name, caught her in her arms as she was -leaping from her bed, and held her down by force. “Ah, my child,” she -cried, “how is it that you are in this evil plight? What is it that has -changed your cheerful mood to this sadness? Surely there is some cause -for these troubles that haunt you by night, and drive away sleep from -your eyes. And in the days when your equals in age disport themselves, -you mope in solitary corners, and have no enjoyment of your princely -life. I doubt much whether the cause be not love; yet if the love be -worthy of your race and royal birth—and that it is I seem to myself to -read by many signs and tokens—then I do swear most solemnly to help you. -Away, dear child, with your fears! Neither danger or death shall keep me -from bringing you due relief.” Then she caught the maid in her arms, and -embraced her in all tenderness, and chafed her limbs to drive away the -cold, and kissed her eyes, still entreating that she should show the -secret of her heart. For a while the maid was silent; then she said, -“Dear nurse, why should you grieve for me? Is it not enough that I must -die? Must you die also?” - -“Talk not of dying,” cried the nurse; “never was wound yet for which no -salve could be found. The god who has wounded you has, I doubt not, in -his quiver another arrow for your lover’s heart.” - -So they talked together; the maid would have it that there was no remedy -for her trouble; the old nurse still steadfastly affirmed that the cure -could easily be found. At last the damsel told the secret of her grief, -as it seemed to her: “Alas, dear mother,” she said, “it is no living man -whose image dwells in my heart and makes this pain; it is but the shadow -and semblance of a knight; I saw him one day in the magic mirror of the -king my father; this is the baited hook which, as some foolish fish, I -swallowed; it is this thought that brings me to my death.” - -“Is this all, my daughter?” cried the nurse; “then is nothing strange or -against nature here. Why should you not set your heart on one who seemed -so worthy of your love?” - -“Oh, mother,” answered the girl, “I seemed to myself like the Greek boy -of old who saw his own face in the fountain and perished miserably.” - -“Nay,” cried the nurse, “he was but the lover of a shadow, and rightly -faded into a flower. But of this image which you saw, there is, be sure, -a substance somewhere, and there are arts by which it may be found. And -now, dear child, let me give you my counsel. If you can banish this -thought from your mind till the convenient time be come, then do so. If -it is too strong for you, then I vow and promise that, by one means or -another, I will find this very knight whose image you beheld.” - -The maid was somewhat encouraged by these words, and slept awhile. But -on the morrow, and as the days went by, the old trouble came again, and -Glaucé, seeing that neither words nor prayers, nor strange spells of the -magic art, for such she tried, were of any avail, judged that some other -remedy must needs be found. What this remedy might be she long doubted -in herself. At last it seemed to her that he who had made the mirror, -that is to say, the wise magician Merlin, might tell her in what land -the knight of the image might dwell, for though he dwelt in farthest -Ind, yet find him she would. Forthwith these two, that is to say, Glaucé -and the maiden Britomart, disguised themselves in mean attire, that no -one might learn their purpose, and betook themselves to Maridunum, -where, in a cave which he had hollowed out for himself beneath the -earth, so as to escape from the curious eyes of men, Merlin had his -abode. When they were come to the place they stood awhile without, in -doubt and fear, whether they had done well in making so bold a venture. - -At last the maid, moved by love, which is ever bold, led the way, and -Glaucé following, they stood within the cave. There they found the -magician busy on some wonderful work, for he was writing strange -characters on the ground, the spells by which he bound the spirits of -the earth to his service. He was not one whit moved at their coming, of -which, indeed, he was aware beforehand, for indeed by his art he knew -the secret thoughts of others. Nevertheless he made as though he knew -not their errand, saying: “Tell me now on what business you are come?” - -Then Glaucé answered: “Blame us not, kind sir, that we have thus -disturbed you in your solitude, coming thus unbidden, but the need was -great.” - -“Speak on,” said Merlin. - -Then she began: “Three months have passed since this maiden here began -to sicken of some strange disease. What it is, and whence it began, I -know not; only this I know, that unless you can find some remedy she -must shortly die.” - -The magician smiled at her woman’s craft, knowing well that she had in -her heart that which she would not tell. “Madam,” he said, “I take it -from what you say that this damsel has more need of the physician’s art -than of any skill of mine. They who may find a remedy for their trouble -elsewhere, do ill to have recourse to the magic art.” - -The old dame was not a little disturbed by these words, but yet was -loath to show her true purpose. “Sir,” she said, “the trouble has taken -too strong a hold on this maiden’s life that the physician’s art could -work a cure. I fear me much that some bad spell has been cast upon her. -Some witch or evil spirit has done this thing; therefore it is that we -seek your help.” - -When he heard these words Merlin could no more contain himself, but -laughed aloud. “Glaucé,” he said, “what avails this pretence by which -you seek to hide your purpose? And you, fair Britomart, why have you -thus disguised yourself in mean attire, as the sun hides himself behind -a cloud? You have come, by the ordering of Fate, to the very place where -you shall find the help which you need.” The maiden, hearing her name so -called, blushed a rosy red; but the nurse, not one whit dismayed, but -rather taking heart at Merlin’s words, said: - -“Sir, if you know our troubles, and, indeed, what is there that you do -not know, have pity upon us, and help us in our need.” - -Merlin sat silent awhile, for many thoughts were in his mind. At last he -spoke: “Most noble maid, who have learned to love in this strange -fashion, be not dismayed by this hard beginning of your life. It was no -chance look, O Britomart, in the mirror of the king your father, but the -unchanging course of the purposes of Heaven, that showed you this image. -Believe me, it is no ill-fortune that you love this noble knight. Submit -yourself, therefore, to the purposes of God, and be content to do His -will.” - -Then said Glaucé: “Tell us, man of wisdom, what means she shall use, -what ways she shall take, to find this man. Or has she no need of toil, -but may sit still while her fate is fashioned for her?” - -“The fates,” answered Merlin, “are firmly fixed; not the less it becomes -those whom they concern to do their own endeavour, and to be -fellow-workers with God.” Then he told Britomart the true name and -lineage of Sir Artegall, how that he was son to Gorloïs, King of -Cornwall in time past, and brother to Cador, then king of the same land. -Then he turned to Britomart and opened to her the future, how she should -be wife to Sir Artegall, and how from them would come a line of kings -who should reign with great glory. Many things that should come to pass -in after days, both good and evil, did Merlin unfold to her. - - - - - CHAPTER XVII - HOW BRITOMART TOOK TO ARMS - - -From Merlin’s cave these two, Britomart and Glaucé, her nurse, went back -to their own home. There they consulted together many days how they -might best carry out their purpose of seeking Sir Artegall. At last -Glaucé said: “My daughter, I have conceived in my heart a scheme, -somewhat bold, I must confess, yet such as may be accomplished if you -are both brave and prudent. And above all things, it is in good accord -with the conditions of these present days. You must know that the good -King Uther has of late made war against the pagan brothers, Octa and -Oza, who are newly come to this country from the lands which lie about -the Northern Sea, and has won a great victory over them and their -people, and that all Britain is now in a great flame of war. My counsel -therefore is, seeing that armed men are everywhere, let us make -ourselves as armed men. Let our hands, weak though they be by nature, -learn to handle the spear and the sword, nor shall we fail therein, for -there are no scholars so apt as they who have need for their teacher. -And, indeed, my daughter, you are one who should easily learn such -matters, for you are both tall and strong, and need practice only, which -being had, you should be as truly martial a maid as you could wish. Nor -is such a thing unknown in the race from which you come. Such was the -bold Boadicea, who reigned in old time over the Iceni, for she made -haughty Rome to tremble before her, and others, as Gwendolen and -Emmilen. Hear also this thing which I saw with my own eyes. On the -battlefield at Menevia, where King Uther last fought against the pagan -hosts, there was a Saxon virgin who thrice struck to the earth the great -Ulfin himself. Verily she had slain him as he lay, but that Caradoc held -her hand, and Caradoc himself had much ado to escape from her without -hurt.” - -“Tell me, I pray you, her name,” said Britomart. - -“They call her Angela,” the nurse made answer, “and she is as fair as -she is strong. She is the leader of a tribe who are more to be feared -than all other Saxons; they call themselves Angles.” - -Much was the maiden moved by this tale, so that she made her resolve, -unknown to her father, to take upon herself all the duties and -adventures which were fitting to a knight. And she said to her nurse: -“See, Glaucé, that you have all things ready that are convenient to my -new estate.” And this Glaucé did with all readiness and care. Fortune -also helped in the matter; for about this time a band of Britons, being -abroad on a foray, took a great spoil of Saxon goods, and among them -goodly armour decked with gold, and arms of proof which belonged to the -Saxon queen Angela. These spoils King Ryence commanded to be hung up in -the chapel of his palace, that they might be a memorial for all time of -the great victory which God had given to his arms. Into this same chapel -Glaucé led the maiden Britomart late in the night when no one was near, -and taking down the armour, clad her in it, and she gave her the arms -also, chief among these being a wonderful spear which King Bladud had -made by magical arts many years before. This virtue it had, that -whosoever might be struck by the point thereof, could not stay in his -saddle, but must be borne to the ground. And when Glaucé had so -furnished the maiden with due equipment of war, then she took for -herself such arms and armour as befitted a squire, and put them on. This -done, they left the place by secret ways, unseen of any. Thus did it -happen that Britomart came in guise of a knight into the company of Sir -Guyon and the Red-Cross Knight. - -Not long after this they parted from each other, for the Knight had an -errand of his own, and Britomart was bent on the finding of Sir -Artegall. Many miles did she ride, and through many lands did she -travel, till at last she came to the shore of the sea. There she lighted -from off her horse and bade Glaucé unlace her helmet, and sat down upon -a rock to rest awhile and refresh herself with the breeze that blew from -off the waves. And as she sat, she thought within herself: “Ah me, how -like is love to this restless sea! How shall my frail bark escape where -there are so many dangers, and no certain guide?” So she spake to -herself, sighing the while; weep she would not, for tears, she thought, -did not become a knight. But Glaucé comforted her, calling to her mind -what Merlin had prophesied about the things to come. Nor were these -words in vain; but there soon befell a thing which roused her more than -many words. She spied a knight in shining armour riding towards her in -all haste, with his spear in rest as one that had some hostile purpose. -Quickly she mounted her horse, and bade Glaucé lace her helmet, and -addressed herself without delay to battle. Now, by the time she had put -her shield in place and made ready her spear, the knight was close at -hand. - -“Sir Knight,” said he, “know you that you travel on this road against my -strict commands? I suffer not any to pass by this way. Others who have -so trespassed have come by their death. Therefore I counsel you to go -back while there is yet time.” - -She made answer in few words: “Let them fly who have need for flight. -You may frighten children with your words. As for passing by this way, I -am prepared to do it, even without your leave. Verily, I will pass or -die.” Scarcely had she spoken when the stranger knight rode at her with -his spear in rest. He smote her full on the breast, and she bowed her -head, so fierce was the stroke, till it well-nigh touched the crupper of -her saddle. But her counter-stroke was deadlier by far. The spear-point -passed through his shield and through his cuirass, and, glancing thence, -pierced his left side. The power of the stroke bore him from the saddle, -and laid him bleeding on the ground, where he lay wallowing in his -blood. So fell the knight, Sir Marinell, upon the shore which he called -his own. And Britomart rode on; and as she went she saw pearls and -precious stones of every kind, and ingots of gold half buried in the -sand. Much she wondered to see such riches, but she would not descend -for a single hour. What were jewels or precious stones or gold to her, -that they should hinder her in her quest? - -The story of Sir Marinell, briefly told, is this. His mother was a -daughter of Nereus, God of the Sea, and his father a mortal man. He was -reared up in arms, and became a great and famous knight. And he had for -his possession this same shore; a place in which Nature of her own will -had set much riches, pearls and precious stones and the like, and to -which, by the ordering of Nereus, great store of the treasure which the -sea swallows up through shipwreck was brought, for his daughter made -request of the same for her son. This coast, then, he most jealously -guarded against all comers. And being, as has been said, valiant and -strong and expert in arms, and also because he knew the place and was -able to take a new-comer unawares, he seemed to be invincible. Many -knights, seeking to pass along the coast, for, indeed, the fame of its -treasures was spread abroad, were slain, and yet more, being vanquished -in battle, for life’s sake, submitted themselves to him, and became -vassals and servants to him. One hundred knights, men of name all of -them, were so bound to his service. In the end, Sir Marinell, what with -the multitude of his riches, and the pride of having so many knights of -renown at his beck and call, became not a little puffed up, and his -mother, knowing that the wise man had said of old, “Pride goeth before a -fall,” would fain know how he might be kept from mischief. So she went -to a certain god of the sea, Proteus by name, who had the gift of -foretelling things to come. And Proteus said to her: “My daughter, keep -this thy son from all womankind, for from a woman he shall have a deadly -hurt.” And the mother, taking these words to be spoken of woman’s love, -set her son’s mind against all such things, and did most carefully keep -him from all company of women. And he, to do her pleasure, obeyed her in -this matter, yet could not so escape his fate. And this fate was all the -harder, because this knight was beloved of a fair and virtuous maiden, -Florimell by name, whom he might have wedded much to his joy and profit. -Of this same Florimell more shall be told hereafter. - -Britomart, after having thus vanquished Sir Marinell, still went on her -quest, and came at night to the castle of a certain Malbecco. To this -same place there had also come, earlier by the space of an hour or so, -two other knights, Sir Paridell and Sir Satyrane. It was this same -Satyrane that helped the Lady Una in her wanderings when she was parted -by evil chance from the Red-Cross Knight. To them Sir Paridell’s squire -had said: “My lords, you will not find entertainment here. The master of -this castle, Malbecco by name, is a mere churl, and hates all company, -and this for two reasons: the first of these reasons is that his mind is -wholly set on riches, and he hates all doings by which they may seem to -be wasted; and the second is that he, being old and crabbed, is wedded -to a very fair young wife, whom he would fain keep from the sight of all -eyes but his own. Verily he keeps her as in prison.” - -When Sir Paridell heard the squire’s story, he said: “Why do we suffer -this old dotard to behave himself in this churlish fashion? ’Twere -better to kill the villain and spoil his home.” - -“Nay,” said Sir Satyrane, who was a loyal and true knight, and would -fain bear himself honestly to all men; “we will first gently entreat -this man to give us entertainment. And if he will not listen to gentle -words, then will we threaten him; for some who heed not fair words will -take account of foul. And if we accomplish nothing either by entreaties -or by threats, then we will make our way into his dwelling by force, and -deal with him as he deserves.” - -“So be it,” said Sir Paridell, and coming to the gate he knocked. “Sir -Porter,” he said, “two knights seek shelter and entertainment.” - -Now the porter was Malbecco himself, for it was his custom to play the -porter’s part. He answered: “All in this house, my friend, are now gone -to their beds, and the keys have been taken to the master of the house, -and he also is in his bed, nor is there anyone so bold that would -venture to wake him from his sleep. I pray you, therefore, to be patient -and to seek entertainment elsewhere.” - -The two knights were not a little wroth at this fellow’s churlishness, -but knew not what they should do, for he took no heed, neither of -blandishments nor of threats. And while they parleyed with him, the sky -was overcast, and there came so bitter a blast of wind and so fierce a -storm of rain and hail that they were constrained to depart and seek -shelter in a little hut that was near at hand, being a sty for pigs. -While they were faring as best they could in this place, there came -another knight to the castle gate. He also sought for entertainment and -was denied, and he also, under compulsion from the storm, sought shelter -in the hut. And when, the place being indeed already filled, he was not -suffered to enter, he fell into a great rage. - -“Nay,” said he, “this will I not suffer. Either I will lodge with you, -or you shall be dislodged. Choose then whether of these two things ye -will have.” The two knights scarce knew how they should answer him. They -liked not to deny him lodging, and they liked not to yield to his -boasting. But of the two Paridell was the less disposed to take the -matter patiently. - -“Who is this fellow,” said he, “who talks to me as though he were rating -a dog in a kennel? Of a truth, if he is a dog of spirit, he would rather -die than lie like a coward in a corner.” So saying, he issued forth, and -came to blows with the stranger. And doubtless mischief had been done -but that the good Satyrane made peace between them. This done, they -agreed together to punish the lord of the castle for his churlishness. -So they went back to the gate, and Paridell cried aloud: “Hark, Sir -Porter, whoever you are, if you open not this gate, then we will burn -this place and all that is therein with fire.” - -When Malbecco heard this, perceiving that they were in earnest, he ran -with all speed and called to them from the castle walls. “Bear with me, -fair sirs,” he cried, “and pardon me, seeing that I am so ill-served. -These loutish knaves of mine know not their duty, and fail to attend as -they should upon strangers.” When they heard this, the knights consented -to let the matter be, though they believed not a word of what the man -had said. So they entered the castle. Being within the walls, they rid -themselves of their armour, for they were fain to dry their garments at -the fire. And lo! when the last come of the three took off his helmet, -the hair, which was of golden hue, broke loose from its tie and fell -down to her feet, like the sunbeams that fall from a cloud; and when she -doffed her coat of mail and let down the pleated frock she had tucked up -for convenience’ sake in riding, then it was plain to see that she was a -woman, and indeed the very fairest of women; for in sooth this last come -of the three knights was Britomart. - - - - - CHAPTER XVIII - SIR SCUDAMORE AND AMORET - - -Britomart, riding forth on the day following from Malbecco’s Castle, -came to a fountain whereby a knight was lying stretched upon the ground. -His cuirass and his helmet and his spear lay near him, and his shield, -on which was the emblem of love, as a boy with wings, was thrown -carelessly on the ground. He lay with his face upon the ground, and it -seemed as if he were asleep, so that Britomart of her courtesy held -back, lest perchance she should wake him. But as she stood, she heard -him groan, and after break forth into bitter complaining: “O God,” he -cried, “who rulest in bliss among Thy saints, why sufferest Thou such -cruel deeds to be done? Hast Thou no care for the cause of the innocent? -Is Thy justice asleep? What doth it profit a man to do righteously if -righteousness find no reward? Never was there on earth a creature more -gracious than my Amoret; and lo! for seven months the tyrant Busirane -holds her in prison, and all, forsooth, because she will not deny her -Scudamore. And I, this same Scudamore, am safe and sound, and yet can -help her not at all!” Then he burst forth into a storm of sobs. So -shaken and disturbed was he with the torment of his grief, that -Britomart feared that he might even die. So, stooping down, she touched -him lightly on the shoulder. Whereat he, starting up, looked to see what -had happened; and finding that it was but a stranger knight, he threw -himself again upon the ground. - -Then said Britomart: “Sir Knight, whose sorrow seems to overpass your -patience, I would counsel you to submit your will to the providence of -God. Remember, if you will, that virtue and faith are mightier than the -very worst of sorrows. Surely he who cannot bear the burden of this -world’s distresses must not think to live, for life is a distressful -thing. And now, tell me what this villain of whom you speak has done. -Maybe this hand of mine may help you to win relief and redress.” - -Then said the knight: “Ah me! it is idle to complain of what may not be -cured. I fear me much that there is no remedy for this trouble. How can -we deliver my Amoret from the dungeon in which this tyrant holds her, -and all because she will not accept his love, nor be false to me? For, -indeed, he has fortified the place with such magic charms that no power -of man can overcome them.” - -“Nevertheless,” said Britomart, “we will make our endeavour.” - -“Why should you die for me?” said the knight. “It is enough that I -should perish, who deserve it well.” - -“Nay,” cried Britomart, “life is not lost if the fame that dies not be -bought with it.” - -So at last she persuaded him to rise from the ground. His armour she -helped him to put on, and his horse, which had strayed away, she brought -back to him. Then they set off for the magician’s castle, which was but -a bow-shot away. But when they were arrived, lo! there was no gate, no, -nor porter, nor watchman, but in the porch there was a flaming fire and -a great smoke of sulphur; so fierce was the fire and so thick the smoke -that they were compelled to fall back. - -“To run into danger without thought, Sir Knight,” said Britomart, “is -becoming to a beast, not to a man. Let us think, therefore, how we may -most prudently deal with this enemy.” - -“Alas!” answered Sir Scudamore, for this was the knight’s name, “here -you see the doleful straits in which I stand. This is the trouble of -which I complained. By no cleverness or strength or valor may these -flames be quenched, for no man can undo the enchantments by which they -have been kindled. Leave me to my complaints. Fair Amoret must dwell as -before in this evil prison, and Scudamore must die of sorrow.” - -“By heaven!” cried Britomart, “it were a shameful thing to give up some -noble purpose for fear of danger, without some venture made. Let us make -a trial at the least, and see what shall come to pass.” - -And as she spoke the bold maiden threw her broad shield before her face, -and pointing her sword straight in front of her, threw herself upon the -fire; and behold the flames straightway parted asunder, leaving a space -in the middle through which she passed, as a flash of lightning passes -through the clouds. And when Sir Scudamore saw how she had traversed the -fire safe and untouched, he essayed to follow her. But whether it was -that there was a certain jealousy in his heart, or some less pure -desire, or some lack of faith, to him the flames yielded not one jot. -His pride and fierceness availed him nothing; he was constrained to -return most piteously burnt. Greatly was he troubled at this defeat, so -that he threw himself on the ground and groaned aloud in the bitterness -of his heart. - -Britomart meanwhile had made her way into the palace of the Enchanter. -The first chamber was a wondrous place, all its walls being covered with -tapestries picturing the triumphs of love. Many a strange tale of the -gods might there be seen, and with the gods was shown a great multitude -of men and women, both of high degree and low, kings and queens and -knights and ladies, and peasants and women who worked with their hands, -for love has no respect of person, and there are none but feel his -power. And round about the tapestries was woven a border of broken bows -and shivered arrows, and through them flowed as it were a river of -blood. At the end of the chamber was an altar, and on the altar was set -the image of a boy. Blindfolded was he, and in his hand he held a deadly -bow with an arrow set. And on his shoulders he carried a quiver, and -some of the shots were tipped with gold and some with lead, and under -his foot was a dragon which had been smitten through with a dart. Under -his feet was written this inscription: “The Conqueror of the Gods.” All -this the maid beheld, and also she saw that over every door in the -chamber, and there were many such doors, the words were written: “Be -Bold!” But over one door at the very end of the chamber were these words -to be seen, “Be not Over-Bold.” Much she marvelled to see no living -creature, for the whole place was silent and empty. But the day being -now far spent, she lay down to sleep, but was careful to keep her arms -close at hand should need arise. - -She slept not untroubled. First there was the sound of a great trumpet; -but whether it were blown for victory or for warning she knew not. And -after the trumpet there was a great storm of wind, with thunder and -lightning, and after the lightning an earthquake, and after the -earthquake a great stench and smoke of sulphur, yet was not Britomart -one whit dismayed. Then, as she wondered what these things might mean, a -great whirlwind blew throughout the house, and the door over which the -words “Be not Over-Bold” were written, flew open of its own accord. And -out of it there issued a marvellous array. - -First came Fancy, in likeness of a lovely boy, and after him Desire, and -then Doubt, ever looking about him with restless eyes, and Danger, and -Fear, who ever kept his eye on Danger, and Hope in the semblance of a -happy maiden, and Suspicion, and Grief and Fury, and many more, which it -were long to name one by one. Thrice did they march round the chamber, -and then returned to that within from which they had come forth. And -when the last had passed through, the door shut as it had opened at the -first, of its own accord. And when the maid would have passed through -it, she found it locked fast against her and beyond all her strength to -open. Then, finding that she could do nothing by force, she had recourse -to craft, purposing not to depart from the chamber till the next night -should come, and with the night the same procession of figures should -come forth. And so it fell out, and when the door opened next of its own -accord, then Britomart went boldly in. Not one single figure did she see -of all that wondrous company. There was no living creature in the -chamber, save one lady of woeful aspect, whose hands were bound fast -together, while round her waist was a chain which bound her to a pillar. -And before her sat the Enchanter, making strange characters, which were -among the devices of his art. In blood he drew them, and the blood -seemed to be drawn from the woeful lady’s heart by an arrow which was -fastened in her side. When the Enchanter saw the maid he cast his magic -book in haste to the ground, and drawing from his vest a murderous -knife, made as though he would have thrust it into the lady’s side. But -the maid caught his hand and mastered him. Not so completely did she -quell him but that with a sudden wrench he turned the dagger upon her -and struck it into her chest. It was but a shallow wound, but it moved -her wrath, and she, drawing forth her sword, dealt him a mighty blow, so -that he fell half dead upon the ground. But as she made ready to smite -him again, the woeful lady cried: “Slay him not, for if he die then am I -here fast bound for ever; for only he that has bound can loosen.” - -Full wroth was Britomart to spare so foul a wretch. Nevertheless, for -the lady’s sake, she held her hand, and said: “O wicked man, death, or -that which is worse than death, if such there be, is the due reward of -your crimes. Nevertheless you may live if you will restore this lady to -her first estate.” To this the wretch, so reprieved beyond all hope, -gave a willing consent, and taking up his book began to reverse his evil -charms. Many a dreadful thing did he read which the lady heard with -trembling, seeing that they had brought her to this evil plight. And all -the while Britomart stood, with her sword drawn over his head, ready to -smite him if he should fail of his promise. And now all the house began -to shake around them, and the doors to rattle. Yet was not the maid -dismayed, but watched the villain as he undid the charm. And now the -chain was broken from off the lady’s hands, and that which did bind her -to the pillar was severed, and the pillar itself fell into ruins, and -the steel by which her life-blood was drained away came forth from the -wound, no one drawing it, and the wound itself was closed and the lady -herself restored to her first estate. - -When she found herself thus whole again, she poured out her heart in -thanks to the maid, throwing herself upon the ground before her. “Gentle -lady,” said Britomart, “it is reward enough to have done you this -service. And now forget your trouble, and take comfort to yourself and -comfort also the true knight who has suffered so much for your sake.” -Right glad was Amoret to hear such kindly words of the man whom she -loved. Then did Britomart take the chain with which Amoret had been -bound and bind the Enchanter with it. And this was a fit beginning of -the punishment which was to fall upon him. This done, they turned to -depart, and as they passed through the Enchanter’s abode, lo! all the -grace and glory had departed from it; all the fair picturings were -defaced, and when they came to the fiery porch, the flames were -vanished, and the place was like to a torch that is half burned. - -But as nothing in the world is without trouble, so to their great -trouble they found no one awaiting them; neither did Amoret see Sir -Scudamore, nor Britomart her squire. - - - - - CHAPTER XIX - OF SIR PARIDELL AND OTHERS - - -It was, in truth, a great deliverance that Britomart had worked for the -Lady Amoret. Nevertheless this same lady was somewhat in doubt how she -should bear herself to her deliverer. For, on the one hand, she was well -aware that all her love and homage was due to Sir Scudamore, nor was -there aught in her heart that hindered her from rendering it. It should -be told indeed that she was not only betrothed to this same Scudamore, -but verily wedded, only it had come to pass on the very wedding-day, -when the guests were somewhat overtaken with wine, that the enchanter -Busyrane had entered the palace, and, under cover of a jest, had carried -her away into captivity. So now she said to herself: - -“This is a very noble knight, and it irks me to show him any -discourtesy; yet, on the other hand, I fear me much lest I should seem -in any wise disloyal to my own dear lord,” for she knew not that -Britomart was a maid. And Britomart, on her part, desiring that the -secret should not be known, bore herself with a certain freedom. Nothing -unseemly did she say or do; but none had guessed her to be what she was. - -As they journeyed together they came to a castle, where a great company -of knights and ladies had assembled to hold a tournament. Now it was a -custom of tournament that every knight entering the lists bore the -colours of some lady, and averred that she was the fairest of all -ladies, and that he would prove it with spear and sword. Thus it came to -pass that when the knights were gathered together, and the master of the -ceremony asked of each his lady’s name, a certain young and lusty knight -cried out, “My lady is the fair Amoret, and that I will avow with spear -and sword.” - -When Britomart heard these words she was not a little wroth; -nevertheless she dissembled her anger, and said only, “I am loath to -make strife; but this young man must needs make good his words!” So they -jousted together, and the knight was easily overthrown, being thus made -to suffer for coveting that which was not his. But Britomart, seeing -that he was a brave man, and being herself as courteous as she was -strong, cast about how she could save his honour. She said, therefore, -to the master of the ceremony: “Let me have this knight for my -champion.” And as she spoke she doffed her helmet, and her golden hair, -which had been cunningly coiled up within, fell down to her very feet. -All that stood by, both ladies and knights, were not a little amazed. - -Some said, “This is wrought by magic!” others, “This is Bellona’s self -that has come among mortal men.” As for the young knight, he worshipped -her as though she were divine, and the fair Amoret, all her doubts being -removed, was knit to her in the closest bonds of affection and -tenderness. - -The next morning they departed together from the castle, the one ever -cherishing in her heart the thought of Sir Artegall and the other of Sir -Scudamore. After a while they were aware of two knights riding towards -them, having each a lady at his side; ladies, indeed, they were not, -save in outward appearance, for one was the false Duessa, the other was -called Até, which name by interpretation is Strife, than whom there is -no more baleful creature under the sun, and she has her dwelling hard by -the gates of hell. Many ways are there by which a man may go into that -place, but none by which he may come forth. And the walls on every side -are hung with the rent robes and broken sceptres of kings, shivered -spears and shields torn in twain, spoils of Babylon and of Rome, relics -of great empires that have been and are no more. Até herself was hideous -to behold, if one could see her as she was in truth. But now she was -fair to look at, for she had put on, as can all evil things, the -semblance of beauty. - -The knight who rode by her side was a certain Blandamour, gallant and -strong, and most expert in arms, but of a fickle and inconstant heart; -and he that was companion to the false Duessa was Sir Paridell. When Sir -Blandamour saw from afar Britomart and Amoret, he said to Sir Paridell: -“See you, my friend, that knight with a lady by his side? There is a -fair adventure for you!” But Sir Paridell, for now they were near enough -to discern the fashion of Britomart’s arms, perceived that this knight -bore the like scutcheon to one by whom he had of late been worsted in -battle; nor was he minded to tempt his fate again. - -“I know that knight full well, Sir Blandamour,” he said; “he proved his -skill on me, and I count it folly when he who has escaped a danger -challenges it again.” - -“Then I,” replied Sir Blandamour, “will try my fortune; take you, -meanwhile, this dame in charge.” And he laid his spear in rest and -charged. Britomart, on her part, made ready to receive him, and gave him -an uncouth welcome. Scarce had they met than he found himself lying -helpless on the ground. Meanwhile his conquering adversary rode on, not -deigning so much as to say a single word. - -When his companions saw in what an evil plight he was, they hastened to -his help, and put him on his steed, for mount himself he could not, and -held him up as he rode. Ill-content he was that he had ventured so much -and won so little. - -After that they had journeyed awhile, they saw two knights coming -towards them across the plain. When Sir Blandamour perceived them, he -grieved more than ever for his late mishap, for he saw that one of them -was his old enemy Sir Scudamore, knowing him to be such by the device -that he wore, to wit, the god of love with his wings spread out on this -side and on that. “Here,” he said to himself, “is evil fortune! Yonder -is my enemy, and I am so bruised with this late encounter that I cannot -do battle with him.” Then he said to Sir Paridell: “My friend, will you, -of your affection, do somewhat for me, even as I have done for you? My -hurts keep me back from battle, but I have just cause of enmity against -yonder knight. Will you, therefore, maintain this my cause against him?” - -Sir Paridell answered: “Trouble not yourself. There is a proverb that -the left hand rubs the right. As you have fought for me, so will I for -you.” Forthwith he laid his spear in rest, and charged, swift as an -arrow from a bow. Nor was Sir Scudamore slow to make himself ready. So -they met in fierce encounter, and with so great a shock, that both were -driven from their saddles, and they lay stretched upon the ground. Sir -Scudamore was soon on his feet again, and said to the other: “Laggard, -why lie you so long?” But Sir Paridell lay tumbled in a heap, without -sense or speech, all unheeding of his adversary’s reproach. Then his -companion ran to him, and unlaced his helmet, and loosened his coat of -mail, and so brought him back to feeling; but not a word did he speak. -Then said Sir Blandamour: - -“False knight, you have overcome by craft a better man than yourself. It -is well for you that I am not in such good case to-day that I can avenge -him.” - -To this Sir Scudamore made no answer, though there was great anger in -his heart. Then the false Duessa, not seeing how her ends would be -served by a quarrel between these two, would have made peace between -them. But, on the other hand, Até made up a fresh contention, for she -turned Sir Scudamore against Amoret, slandering that true lady with -false tales of how she had given her love to a stranger knight, who, -indeed, was none other than Britomart. Nor was she content with this, -but she made a quarrel also between Paridell and Blandamour. And the -contention between these two grew so hot that they were ready to do -battle with each other. What had been the end thereof none can say, but -by good luck there came that way a certain squire who was well known to -both, and not a little beloved by them. No easy thing was it for him to -get hearing from the two, so full of fury were they. Yet, at the last, -he persuaded them to stay their hands. This done, he said: “Brave -knights, you ought to be at peace and not at variance. There are those -that seek your harm, and you would do well to ally yourselves against -them.” Thus he persuaded them to swear friendship again. So being -reconciled, they pursued their journey. After a while they saw two -knights and two ladies with them, and they sent on their squire to -inquire who these might be. And when the squire came back to his company -he said: “These are two famous knights, brave Cambell and stout -Triamond; and the ladies are Cambina, who is wife to Cambell, and -Canacé, who is wedded to Triamond. But would it please you, gentle sirs, -to hear their story, for I know it well, and it is worth the hearing?” - -Sir Blandamour answered, “Speak on.” So the squire told this tale that -follows. - - - - - CHAPTER XX - THE STORY OF CANACÉ AND THE THREE BROTHERS - - -There was a great lady in Fairyland, Agapé by name, who had three sons, -born all of them at one birth; and the names of the three were Priamond, -Diamond, and Triamond. Also she had a daughter, Cambina by name. Now the -Lady Agapé greatly desired to know how long her sons should live, for -they, having a mortal for their father, must needs die some day, whereas -she, being of fairy race, was immortal. Having, therefore, this thought -in her mind, she made her way to the place where the three Fates sit by -the distaff spinning the lines of Life. One sister draws out the thread, -and another turns the spindle, and yet another, sitting by with the -shears in her hand, cuts the thread when the due time is come. Deep in -the hidden places of the earth was the dwelling of the three, and the -way thereto was dark and hard to find; but Agapé had in her heart all -the wisdom of Fairyland, nor did she fail to accomplish her purpose. -When she had come to the place she sat awhile, and watched the sisters -at their work. At last, having seen all that they did, she declared why -she had come: “I have three sons,” she said, “mortal men, though I -myself am immortal; and I greatly desire to know how long they will -live.” One of the sisters, she that held the shears, was very angry when -she heard these words: “You have done ill,” she said, “in coming here on -this errand. These things are not for anyone, mortal or immortal, to -know. You deserve to be smitten with the Curse of Jupiter—you and your -children with you.” - -[Illustration: Agapé approaching the Dwelling of the Fates.] - -Agapé was greatly frightened at these words. Still she held to her -purpose, and with many prayers and entreaties prevailed upon her that -held the spindle, for she was less hard of heart than the sister who -held the shears, to show her the threads of the three youths. When she -saw them she cried, “I pray you draw them out longer and of a stouter -thread.” - -“Nay,” said the sister, “think you, O foolish one, that the purposes of -the Fates may be changed as are the purposes of men? It is not so; what -they decree stands fast for ever; the gods may not move it by one -hair’s-breadth, no, nor the ruler of the gods himself.” - -Then answered Agapé: “If this be so, if you cannot add one jot to the -thread of any man’s life, still there is a boon which you can give me. I -see the thread of my eldest son, and it is, I perceive, the shortest of -the three. Grant that when it is cut with the shears, it may be added to -the thread of the second, and that in like manner when the thread of the -second is cut, it may be joined to the third. So shall he have a treble -portion, and yet the whole shall not have been increased.” - -The sisters said, “This shall be so.” Thereupon the Lady Agapé departed -to her own home. She told her sons nothing of this journey which she had -taken, or of the things which she had seen and heard, or of the boon -which had been granted to her in the matter of their lives. But she said -to them, not at that time only, but after, whenever she could find -occasion: “O my sons, be careful and walk in safe ways; but, above all -things, love one another, whatever may befall.” And this they did all -their lives. Never was there any strife between them, but only great -friendship and concord, of which the most signal proof is now to be -told. - -There was a fair lady in those parts, Canacé by name, who was wiser than -all the women of her day. She knew all the powers of nature, and could -see beforehand the things that should come to pass, and knew the speech -of beasts and birds. And as she was wise above all others, so also did -she excel in goodness. To these things she added also a singular beauty, -so that many lords and knights of the land came to woo her. To these she -bare herself rightly courteously, but favoured none, no, not so much as -by a word or a look. But it came to pass, as is the way in such matters, -that the more she held herself aloof, the more eagerly did these lords -and knights urge their suit upon her. And not a few quarrels came about -on her account, one suitor meeting another in battle. Now this Canacé -had a brother, Cambell by name, as brave and stout a knight as ever -lived. And he, seeing that great mischief might arise out of these -quarrels concerning his sister, caused all her wooers to come together, -and made this proclamation among them: - -“Ye Lords and Knights that seek my sister Canacé in marriage, choose now -from among yourselves the three whom you judge to be the boldest and -most skilful in battle among you, and let them meet me in combat, man by -man, and it shall be that whosoever of the three shall prevail over me -shall have my sister to wife.” - -Now this Cambell was, as has been already said, a brave knight and a -stout; yet for all his strength and courage he had scarcely dared to -stand up in this fashion against so many. For, indeed, it might well -come to pass, such are the chances of battle, that one or other might -prevail over him, not being the better man, but by reason of some -accident. But there was that which encouraged him to dare so much, to -wit, a magic ring which his sister had given him. It was a ring of many -virtues, but the chief of them all was this, that if he who wore it -should be wounded, this ring straightway staunched the bleeding. - -Now this matter of the magic ring and its marvellous virtues was known -to all, and the suitors of the Lady Canacé were, for the most part, -terrified by it, so that they would not venture on the battle. “Fair she -is without doubt,” they said, “but it would be a fool’s part to venture -life even for her.” Nevertheless there were three among them who were -not of this way of thinking, and these three were the brothers Priamond, -Diamond, and Triamond. They all loved the Princess, and yet, so -brotherly were they in heart and mind, that there was not a thought of -anger or jealousy among them. “Let her choose,” said they, “between us, -and we will be content with her choice. Or, if the judgment be left to -the sword, then let him be preferred who shall overcome this her brother -Cambell.” - -So the three addressed themselves to the battle in the order of their -age. First came Priamond, the eldest, a stout knight to hold his place, -but he was not so strong to strike as are some. He loved to fight on -foot, and his arms were the spear and the battle-axe. Next to him was -Diamond; he was one to deal mighty blows, but he was not so good in -holding his ground. Whether he were on horseback or on foot he cared -not, so that he had his battle-axe in hand, for with this he loved to -fight. Last of all came Triamond. There was no man better than he, -whether to stand or to strike; the fight on horseback pleased him best, -and his arms were spear and shield. - -On a set day the lists were prepared. Barriers were made to keep off the -press of the people. At one end sat six judges, who should see that all -things were done decently and in order, and that neither this warrior -nor that should take undue advantage; and at the other was set the fair -Canacé on a stage, that she might see the battle and herself be seen. -The first that came into the lists was Sir Cambell. Noble was his mien -and assured his look, as of one that knew certainly that he should -prevail. After him advanced the three brothers, bravely attired and -shining in arms, each with his banner borne before him. Thrice did they -bow themselves before the fair Canacé, and then a blast of the trumpet -gave the signal for battle. - -First of the three to meet Sir Cambell came Priamond; well skilled in -arms were the two, and for long they fought without advantage to one or -the other. Mighty the blows that they dealt, but both had watchful eyes -and ready skill to turn the deadliest stroke aside. The first gain fell -to Sir Priamond, for his spear, whether by good fortune or by skill it -were hard to say, passed by his adversary’s shield and pierced the -shoulder where a joint of the armour gave it access. Deep was the wound, -and though no blood flowed therefrom—such was the virtue of the magic -ring—it stung the warrior to the quick with keenest pain. There are -whose spirit is quelled with pain; but Sir Cambell was not of these. The -smart did but rouse his courage to the utmost, and put new strength into -his arm. Straightway he drave his spear close underneath Sir Priamond’s -shield and smote him on the thigh. The coat of mail did not stay it, but -that it made a grisly wound, and the stout knight tottered with the -blow, even as an old oak, withered and sapless, rocks with every blast -of the wind. Nor did Cambell fail to use the occasion. He smote him yet -again upon the side, making another deadly wound, and though the spear -brake with the blow, he did not abate his onset, but drave the shaft -through the visor of Sir Priamond’s helmet, and laid him low upon the -ground. So fell the first of the three brothers; yet did not his soul -depart, but by virtue of the gift of the Fates it passed into the bodies -of the two that yet remained, making them stronger and more eager for -the fray. - -Nevertheless, when Sir Diamond addressed himself to the battle, the -lists having been cleared afresh, and the trumpet sounded a second time, -he fared no better than his brother. For a while the two stood face to -face, giving and receiving equal blows, but without advantage either to -the one or to the other. But then a great gust of wrath swept through -Sir Diamond’s soul, driving away all thought but of how he might most -speedily avenge his brother. And, indeed, the very soul of the brother -stirred within him. So he lifted high his mighty battle-axe, swinging it -over his head, and bringing it down on his adversary with all the force -that was in his body. And, surely, had the blow fallen as it was meant, -there had been an end of strife. No magic ring had availed to stay so -dreadful an onset. It had crushed out Sir Cambell’s life, whether with -or without the shedding of blood. But fortune helped him in his need, -for judging where the axe would fall, he swerved aside, so that the -stroke missed the mark, and the striker’s right foot slid from under -him. So we may see a hawk strike at a heron with all his might; so -strong is the blow, that it would seem as if nothing could turn it -aside; but the heron, a wary bird, sees it come, and lightly avoids it, -so that the hawk is well-nigh brought to the ground ere the force of his -onset is sped. So fared it with Sir Diamond; not only so, but while he -reached forward with his left arm to recover himself, he left his side -unguarded by the shield. Which thing Sir Cambell did not fail to -perceive, for swinging his axe, he smote him between the topmost rings -of the coat of mail and the lowest rings of the helmet, which spot is -ever dangerous to the warrior, how well soever he be armed. There did -Sir Cambell smite Sir Diamond, with an arm so sure and deadly that he -shore his head from his body. - -And now ensued the fiercest fight of all, yea, and also the strangest. -Well might a man wonder to see how Sir Cambell stood up, neither faint -nor weary, for all that he had been changing blows for the space of an -hour and more. Yet did he seem even fresher and brighter than at his -first taking of arms, just as some great serpent wakes from the long -sleep of winter, when the warm breath of spring has touched him, and -throws off the ragged skin of his old estate, and raises himself in the -sunshine with all the glory of his youth renewed. Such freshness and -vigour did the magic ring work in calling out all the strength that he -had, for all the magic in the world had not availed to help a coward or -a sluggard. Against him stood a worthy foe, with the might of three -stout champions in his heart and in his limbs. Once and again, yea, many -times, did it seem that this or that warrior had prevailed. Now was -Cambell beaten to his knee, till all the company thought he must needs -lose the day, and now was Triamond stretched upon the ground, like to -one who has received a mortal wound. And once, indeed, the two lay -together at full length, as though they had been dead. The judges rose -from their place, and the marshals of the lists came forward as to carry -the two corpses to the appointed place, and the fair Canacé cried out in -her despair, for it seemed as if both brother and lover had been taken -from her at once. But lo! in a moment the two were standing on their -feet again, and addressing themselves anew to the battle. What had been -the end, whether the virtue of the magic ring had overcome the triple -might of him in whom dwelt the spirits of three brave men, who can say? -For now there was heard such a clamour, such a confusion of voices, such -a shouting of men and wailing of women and shrill crying of children, -that all turned their faces to look, and the two champions by common -consent stayed their hands till they could see what strange things had -happened. And, indeed, it was a marvellous sight that they saw. There -came speeding along the ground, fast as a thunder-cloud that rides the -sky, a chariot richly adorned with gold and purple in the Persian -fashion. Two lions from the forest drew it, mighty beasts, such as could -not be surpassed for strength and fierceness in any land, but now they -had forgotten their savageness to obey the pleasure of their driver. And -this was a lady of wonderful beauty, and not less wise than fair, for -she had been taught all the arts of wholesome magic by the fairy, her -mother. In her right hand she carried a wand with two serpents twined -about it, and in her left a cup filled to the brim with nepenthe, the -wondrous drink of which he that tastes straightway forgets all grief and -anger and care. - -This was the Lady Cambina, daughter of Agapé, and sister to Sir -Triamond, and she, knowing by her art in what deadly peril her dear -brother stood, came to his help. All the people made a way for her to -pass, so that she could approach the lists. These first she struck with -her wand, and they fell at the stroke. Then she said to the two -champions, “Cease now your strife and be at peace.” And when they would -not hear, but made as if to renew the battle, she cast herself upon her -knees and besought them with many prayers and tears to cease from their -anger; and when they still hardened their hearts, she smote them lightly -with her wand. So soon as they felt the touch, the swords dropped from -their hands. Then, as they stood astonished, not knowing what had -befallen them, she gave the cup first to one and then to the other; and -they, as being consumed by mighty thirst, drank each a mighty draught. -Straightway the magic liquor turned all their strife to love; they -clasped hands, and plighted troth to each other, and swore that they -would be friends for ever. And such indeed they were to the end of their -days; ay, and Cambell took to wife Cambina, and Triamond wedded the fair -Canacé. - - - - - CHAPTER XXI - THE STORY OF FLORIMELL - - -It has been related before how Sir Guyon and Prince Arthur parted -company with Britomart with the purpose of relieving a fair lady in -distress. Now the name of this same lady was Florimell. She was courted -by many knights of high degree, but her love was given to Sir Marinell, -the same that was overthrown by Britomart in the passage by the sea; but -he, on his part, had no thought for her, being mindful of his mother’s -counsel that he should hold himself aloof from all womankind. So fast -did Florimell fly, for she was in grievous fear, that the two knights -who followed with intent to give her help, could by no means overtake -her. After a while the strength of the white palfrey on which she rode -wholly gave out, and she, alighting, made her way on foot, a thing which -she had never done in all her life before, so delicately bred was she. -But need teaches many lessons, this being chief among them, that Fortune -holds the lots of all in equal scales, and has no respect of persons. So -travelling, she came to a hillside, from which, looking down, she espied -a valley thickly covered with trees, and through the tree-tops a thin -vapour of smoke issuing forth. “Here,” she said to herself, “is a -dwelling of man, where haply I may find shelter and rest.” So she bent -her steps thither, and after a while reached the place, being now sorely -spent with trouble and weariness. A dwelling there was, but of the -humblest kind, a little cottage, built with reeds and wattled with sods -of grass. In this there dwelt a witch woman. Most sparely did she live, -careless of all common things, for her mind was wholly given to her art, -for the better and more secure practice of which she lived far from all -neighbours. - -When Florimell came in the witch was sitting on the ground, and was so -busied with one of her enchantments that she was taken wholly unawares. -At the first she was overcome with fear, for she would not that any -should surprise her while she was busy with her art. Then, her fear -changing to anger, as, indeed, it is commonly wont to do, she cried in a -loud voice: “Stranger, what mischief has brought you hither? Here, of a -truth, you will find no welcome.” - -Florimell answered: “Mother, be not angry with a simple maid, who has -been brought to your dwelling by hard chance, and asks only for leave to -rest awhile.” And as she spoke the tears came trickling down her cheeks, -and she heaved a sigh, so softly and sweetly, that there could be no -creature so hard and savage that would not have pitied her. Even the -witch, for all that her soul was given to mischief, was much moved at -the sight, and sought to comfort her in such rude fashion as she knew, -for even in her the sight of such beauty and virtue moved the hidden -sense of womanhood. So, wiping the tears from the damsel’s eyes, she -bade her rest awhile. This she was nothing loath to do, and sat down -upon the dusty floor, as a bird spent with tempest cowers upon the -ground. After a while she began to set aright the garments that she -wore, and to put in order her golden hair. All this the witch woman saw -with wonder that still waxed greater and greater. “Is this a mortal -maid,” she said to herself, “or one of Diana’s train?” - -This same witch woman had a son, very dear to her, and in a sort the -comfort of her age, but a lazy, evil-minded loon, always idling away his -time, and loath to follow any honest trade. He was abroad when Florimell -came to the cottage, and when he returned, he was not a little amazed to -see so fair a creature sitting by his mother’s hearth. But the maiden -bore herself so meekly, fitting herself to the low condition of the -place, that she soon ceased to be strange to mother and son. This was a -thing to be desired; yet it had in it this discomfort, that the witch’s -son began to love her. He would bring gifts for her, such as birds which -he taught to speak her name, and squirrels which, he said, were as -fellow-slaves with himself, and flowers to make garlands for her head. -All these she graciously received. Nevertheless she was not a little -troubled in her heart, for she could not but perceive the love which the -young man bore her. Therefore she determined in herself to depart. - -By this time her palfrey was well rested from its weariness, for, -indeed, the young man, the son of the witch, had tended it with all -care. Early, therefore, one morning she put its strappings on the beast, -and so departed. - -Great was the anger of the witch and her son when they knew that -Florimell was gone. As for the disappointed lover, his fury passed all -bounds. He beat upon his breast and scratched his face, and tore his -flesh with his teeth. When his mother saw him in so evil a plight, she -did all that she could to comfort him. Tears and prayers she used, and -charms and herbs of might; but all were of no avail. When she saw this, -fearing lest, in his despair, he should bring himself to a violent end, -she said within herself: “I must bring the creature back.” So she called -out of the cave a hideous beast that served her. It was a creature -likest to a hyena, for its back and sides were covered with spots. But -never was seen anything that could be matched with it, so fierce of -aspect was it, and so swift. The witch said to him: “Follow this woman, -and do not leave following till you overtake.” - -So the monster followed Florimell, and, as she rode leisurely, soon -overtook her. When she saw him, she set spurs to her palfrey, and he, so -long as he was fresh and full of breath, kept her out of the creature’s -reach. But when his breath failed him, then the monster drew near. This -Florimell perceiving, leapt from her saddle and fled away on her feet. -Now it chanced that she was close to the seashore, and she, being minded -to be drowned, rather than be overtaken by so foul a beast, ran to the -very edge of the waves. There, by good hap, she saw a little shallop -lying, in which the fisherman, an old man and poor, lay asleep, the -while his nets were drying. Into this she leapt, and pushing off the -shallop with an oar, was safe awhile. The monster would not venture on -the sea, for it was not to his liking, and so set out to return to his -mistress the witch, to tell her how his quest had failed. But first he -turned upon the palfrey and rent it. - -Scarcely had the beast done this, when there came that way a gallant -knight, Sir Satyrane by name, the same that had befriended the Lady Una -in her distress. He, seeing the palfrey lie dead upon the ground, knew -it for that on which the Lady Florimell had been wont to ride; also he -found the golden girdle which she had been wont to wear, for it had -fallen from her in the haste of her flight. These things greatly -troubled him, and when, looking round, he also saw the monstrous beast -which had pursued her, standing by, his fear was changed to anger, and -he flew upon it and dealt it many blows with all his might. Many wounds -did he give it, causing much blood to pour out of its carcase; but the -beast he subdued not, with such spells had the witch woman fortified it -against all assault. At the last he threw away his sword, for in truth -the steel seemed to avail nothing against the creature’s hide, and -caught it in his arms as if he would have crushed the life out of it; -also he took the girdle of Florimell and bound the beast with it. Never -in truth had it known such constraint, for in a moment all its rage was -quelled, and it followed him meek as a lamb which the shepherd has -rescued from the lion’s mouth. And this, without doubt, it had continued -to do, but for this chance, that Sir Satyrane was called away upon -another adventure. He spied a giantess riding on a dappled grey steed, -holding before her a squire fast bound with chains of wire, and a knight -pursuing her. Therefore he made haste to put himself in her way. She -would have passed him by, but he would not suffer it, running at her -with his spear. Thereupon she was constrained to deal with him, and -would have smitten him with a great mace of iron which she carried in -her hand, and with which she had already slain not a few. But ere she -could deal the blow, his spear came full upon her shield. So great was -the shock, that her horse staggered to and fro; but she was not moved -one whit in her place, nor was the shield broken. Rather the shaft of -the spear was shivered on it, for all it was big and strong. Nor did she -delay to strike him with the mace of iron. Full on his helmet’s crest -she smote him, and that so sturdily that he bowed his head upon his -breast and reeled to and fro like to a drunken man. Which the giantess -perceiving, caught him in her arms, and put him on the saddle before -her, for the squire she had already cast to the ground. Then truly had -Sir Satyrane been in an evil plight, but for the knight that was -pursuing. He, indeed, seeing what had chanced, made the greater haste to -overtake her, but she, not desiring another battle, or because she -especially feared the other knight, threw Sir Satyrane to the ground, -and thus he was delivered. But meanwhile the witch’s monster had -departed. - - - - - CHAPTER XXII - OF THE FALSE FLORIMELL - - -The monster sped on as fast as it could to the dwelling of its mistress, -the witch woman. When she saw it, she perceived how it was bound with -Florimell’s girdle. At this she rejoiced greatly, and showed the thing -to her son, thinking that he also would rejoice. “See,” said she, “this -thankless creature has not escaped. Behold her girdle.” - -But he was otherwise minded. “Surely,” he cried, “she is dead, this -fairest of all maidens!” And it seemed as if he would have torn the very -heart out of his breast. So mad was he with anger and grief, that he -would have slain his mother where she stood. Only she hid herself in a -secret place where she was wont to call up the evil spirits which served -her. And now she summoned them to her help, telling them what had come -to pass. “Counsel me,” she said, “for my son is distraught with anger -and grief and love, and either he will lay violent hands on himself, or -he will slay me, though I have done my very best to serve and help him.” - -So the spirits took counsel together in the matter, and by their advice, -her own wicked wit helping, she contrived a marvellous thing. She set -herself to make another Florimell, a false maid, like in all things to -the true, so far as concerned shape and outward semblance. The substance -of which she made her was snow, which she gathered in a secret glade of -the Thracian hills, the spirits of the mountains having revealed to her -the place. This snow she tempered with fine mercury and virgin wax, -which had never been touched with fire. These she mingled with -vermilion, so making a rosy red in the cheeks. And for eyes she set two -lamps, whose fire was marvellously attempered to the likeness of life; -and hair she made of golden wire, more marvellously light than ever was -hair of woman; and for life to make this dead mass move and breathe—for -dead it was for all its beauty—she put one of the spirits which served -her. A wicked spirit was this, none more wicked or crafty, or with a -more cunning art to take the semblance of goodness. There was no need to -teach him how to bear himself. This he knew already; there was no -subtlety or craft in all the wit of woman with which he was not -acquainted. Such was the false Florimell. - -This creature she arrayed in some of the garments which the true -Florimell had left behind her, and so brought her to her son, where he -lay groaning on the earth. “See, my son,” she said, “the maid herself -has come back to us.” And when he saw her, he leapt from the ground, and -would have caught her in his arms. But she held back, for the spirit -within her knew well how women bear themselves in such a case, neither -seeming too fond, yet giving such encouragement as might the more -confirm him in his passion. Such was the charge which the witch woman -laid upon him. - -One day, as the son was walking with the false Florimell in the wood, -there chanced to come by a certain knight with a squire attending him. -And now it must be said who this fellow was, for, indeed, he was no true -knight. It has been already told how that Sir Guyon, when he was helping -a traveller in distress, had his horse and his spear also stolen from -him. The thing was done by a vain fellow, Bragadocchio by name, who, -seeing the horse and spear ready to his hand, thought that by taking -them he might make himself into a veritable knight. Little had he of his -own but a ready tongue; but this same tongue was no small help with the -more foolish sort. He then, mounting the steed, and taking the spear in -hand, rode on, and so vain was he, and full of self-conceit, that he -hoped to be courteously received for what he seemed to be. And in this -notion his first adventure confirmed him. As he rode along he saw a man -sitting idly on a bank; and he said to himself: “Here is one whom I will -make captive to my spear.” With that he smote his steed upon the flank, -and set his spear in rest and charged. The man, when he saw him coming -on, fell flat on the ground for fear, and cried for mercy, holding up -his hands. At this Bragadocchio took a wonderful conceit of his own -strength and courage: “Who are you, caitiff?” he cried. “You are not -worthy to breathe the air along with honest men. Prepare for death, or -yield yourself to be my prisoner for ever. ’Tis no small favour that I -give you time to answer!” - -The man cried: “Hold your death-dealing hand, my lord, I am your -thrall!” - -“So be it,” said the sham knight, “your fate has baulked my will, and -given you life when I had purposed death. So be it; life I give you. -Fall on the ground, and kiss my stirrup. So pay your homage.” - -Then the wretch threw himself on the ground, and kissed the stirrup, and -declared himself to be Bragadocchio’s man. For a while he held his -master in great respect, but when he found out how hollow was his show -of courage, then he grew bolder, and practised upon him for his own -ends. Trompart was his name, which, being interpreted, means deceiver; a -worthy squire he was for such a knight. - -They had not long companied together when they chanced to meet -Archimage, who was looking out for some men-at-arms to help him in his -evil designs. He, coming close to Trompart, said to him under his -breath: “Who is this mighty warrior, who has a spear only and no sword?” - -Said Trompart: “He is indeed a mighty warrior; as for his sword, he has -made a vow that he will use none till he shall be avenged for a certain -wrong that has been done to him. Meanwhile his spear is enough: he can -do to death with that as many as he will.” Then Archimage, louting low -before him, told a false tale about the Red-Cross Knight and Sir Guyon, -which when Bragadocchio had heard, he cried with a loud voice: “Old man, -tell me where these false knights are hiding themselves. I will soon -punish them for all their misdeeds.” - -“That will I do without delay,” answered Archimage, “and will help you -also when you come to deal with them. Meanwhile I would give you this -counsel, that you give no odds to your adversaries, but provide yourself -with a sword before you do battle with them, for, indeed, they are -sturdy fighters.” - -“Old man,” said Bragadocchio, “you dote. Doubtless your wits have failed -you by reason of age, or you would not judge of a man by his coat of -mail or his sword. A man, be he indeed a man, can quell a host without -sword or shield. Little do you know what this right hand of mine has -achieved; but they who have seen it can tell if they will.” - -Not a little abashed was Archimage at these high words; well he knew in -his heart that whoso should do battle with the Red-Cross Knight or Sir -Guyon would need all his arms, and yet he feared to offend this knight. -Then Bragadocchio said further: “Once upon a time I slew seven knights -with one sword. And I took a great oath, having done this, never again -to use a sword in battle, unless it should be the sword of the very -noblest knight in all the world.” - -“Wait you for that,” said Archimage, “then you shall have it by -to-morrow at this time. ’Tis the sword of Prince Arthur, and it flames -like a burning fire. Lo! I go to fetch it.” And as he spoke he vanished -into air. - -“What is this?” thought the two to themselves in sore dismay, for they -liked little to have aught to do with such a sword. And they fled from -the place as fast as they could to hide themselves in a wood which was -near at hand. This they had scarcely reached when they heard the clear -ringing of a horn. Thereupon Bragadocchio leapt from his horse and hid -his coward head in a thicket. As for Trompart, he was not easily moved, -but abode in his place to see what should happen. Soon there came into -the glade where they were a very fair lady dressed in huntress fashion. -She had a fair white tunic with an edge of gold and gilded buskins, and -a boar-spear in her hand, and on her shoulder a bow and a quiver filled -with steel-headed arrows. And all about them flowed loosely down her -golden hair. When she spied Trompart she said: “Saw you a hind with an -arrow in her right haunch? If so, tell me which way she went, that I may -follow up the chase.” But while she was speaking, she saw the bush stir -in which Bragadocchio lay hid, and thinking it was some beast of prey, -would have shot an arrow into it. - -But Trompart cried: “Forbear, I pray you, whether you be nymph or mortal -maid. That is no mark for your arrows. My master, a famous knight, rests -awhile under the shade.” So she stayed her hand, and Bragadocchio came -forth from his hiding-place on his hands and knees, and after stood up, -making as if he had been newly roused from sleep. After this they talked -awhile, and when the lady had passed on, Bragadocchio said to Trompart: -“I had from my birth this grace, not to fear any mortal thing. But of -the heavenly powers and of the fiends in hell I do stand, I do honestly -confess, in great dread. And when I heard that horn, I took it for some -signal from the sky, and hid myself for fear. And now let us depart -hence.” - -Such was Bragadocchio, the false knight who came upon the son of the -witch woman as he was walking in the wood with the false Florimell. When -he saw the two, and perceived that the lady was very fair to look upon, -and that he who was with her was no man of war, he rode up, with his -spear in rest, crying, “Clown, how is this? This lady is my love. -Gainsay it if you dare!” - -The churl dare not answer him a word, but yielded the damsel to him; and -he, mounting her upon Trompart’s horse, rode on, not a little proud of -the valiant deed which he had done. Nor had he ridden long when there -came in view a stranger knight, who cried: “Ho there! Yield the damsel -to me; I have a better right than you!” - -Sorely dismayed was Bragadocchio at such a challenge, but dissembled his -fear, saying, “Think you, Sir Knight, to steal away with words what I -have won by many blows? Yet, if you will have trial of my strength or -prove your own, let it be so.” - -“Turn your horse,” said the stranger, “or I will strike you dead!” - -“So be it,” answered Bragadocchio, “if nothing else will content you. -Let us then retire our horses for a furlong either way, and tilt -together as is the custom.” So they turned their horses, and retired -each a furlong’s length; but Bragadocchio came not again, but fled away -as fast as his horse could carry him. - - - - - CHAPTER XXIII - SIR SATYRANE’S TOURNAMENT - - -By sundry adventures, which there is no need to set forth in their -place, the girdle of Florimell came into the possession of Sir Satyrane, -who forthwith resolved to hold in honour of it a great tournament. In -this same tournament there should be, so he proclaimed, two contests; -first, a contest of knights, who should joust with each other, so -showing who excelled in strength and courage; second, a contest of fair -ladies, she who should most fittingly wear the said girdle being -adjudged the most excellent. - -The beginning of the tournament was that Sir Satyrane came forth from -his pavilion, holding in his hands an ark of gold. This ark he opened -with much solemnity, and drew forth from it the girdle. A wondrously -fair thing it was, curiously embossed with pearls and precious stones; -they were all costly things, but the workmanship was costlier yet. This -he held up for the general view; and all eyes were drawn to it, for -indeed it was a thing greatly to be admired; nor was there one in all -that company but said in his heart: “Happy the knight who shall win so -fair a prize! Happy the dame who shall be deemed to wear it most -fittingly.” - -The girdle having been thus displayed in the sight of all the concourse, -the knights disposed themselves for the jousting. And first of all Sir -Satyrane came forth holding in his hand the great spear which he was -wont to wield; no man in those days bore one greater, or, indeed, so -great. He was the challenger, and it became him thus to be first in the -field. Behind him were ranged the knights of Fairyland, owning -allegiance, all of them, to the great Queen Gloriana. On the other side -was ranged a great company of knights, who had come from all parts. -First of these rode up a pagan knight, Sir Bruncheval, surnamed the Bold -(he jousted with Sir Satyrane), whose mastery of arms had been tried in -many battles. Fierce was their onset, so fierce that neither could -resist the other; but both were tumbled on the plain, holding, indeed, -their spears in their hands, but not able to move them so much as a -hair’s-breadth. When Sir Ferramont saw his leader in this plight, he set -spurs to his horse, and rode forth. Against him came out Sir Blandamour, -putting all his strength into his stroke; but his strength availed him -nothing, for he was tumbled on the ground, he and his horse together. -And when Sir Paridell rode forth to his rescue, he fared no better. The -next in turn to contend was Bragadocchio, but the thing was not to his -liking, and he stood still in doubt what he should do, or rather in -fear. Thereupon Sir Triamond, vexed indeed that a brave-seeming knight -should bear himself so basely, but rejoicing in the occasion, rode forth -with his spear in rest, and charged on Sir Ferramont with all his might. -So sure was the stroke, that both man and horse were laid prostrate on -the ground, nor could they lift themselves again for a space. And when -Sir Devon rode forth from the Fairyland array he fared no better; nor -did Sir Douglas, nor Sir Palimord, when in turn they made trial of him. -Either they were stretched on the plain or went sorely wounded. - -By this time Sir Satyrane had woke out of the swoon in which he had lain -so long. Looking round, he was sorely dismayed to see the havoc which -Sir Triamond had wrought among the knights of Queen Gloriana. “Truly,” -he said to himself, “I had rather been dead than laid here helpless -while such deeds were done.” Then, gathering strength, he laid hold of -his spear, which lay close beside him; his horse also, by good fortune, -was at hand. Mounting, therefore, he rode forth again to where the brave -Triamond was carrying all before him. Not a man could stand up against -him, so heavy were his strokes, so deadly was his hand. But now there -came a stay to his achievements; Sir Satyrane smote him on the side with -his great spear, and the point made a most grievous wound. So grievous -was it, that though he was not forthwith overthrown, he was fain to -withdraw himself from the field. Then the challengers ranged over the -lists, claiming to be conquerors, and, indeed, no one was ready to take -them in hand. And now the night fell, and the trumpets sounded a -retreat. That day, therefore, Sir Satyrane was adjudged to have won the -prize. - -On the second day of the tournament Sir Satyrane rode forth, with Queen -Gloriana’s knights following him, to challenge all comers. And on the -other side also were many famous warriors, eager all of them to win the -prize for himself. But Sir Triamond was not one of these; his wound was -so grievous that it hindered him from making a trial of arms. So he was -constrained to stand aside, but it grieved him sorely. This his close -friend Sir Cambell perceiving, said to himself: “I cannot cure his hurt, -nor undo the thing which has been done; but this I can do; I can win -honour for him.” Therefore he took Sir Triamond’s arms, none knowing, -neither Sir Triamond himself, nor anyone else, for he said to himself: -“If I fare ill in this matter, the blame will not fall on my friend.” - -He went therefore to fight, no one doubting that he was the veritable -Triamond. When he was come, he found Sir Satyrane, full of joy and -triumph, for no one was able to stand up against him. At him, therefore, -he charged, with his spear in rest; nor did Sir Satyrane, on his part, -draw back from the encounter. With so great a shock did they meet that -both were driven from their saddles to the ground. Rising, therefore, -they drew both of them their swords, and fought therewith such a fight -as had scarce been seen before in that land. And now Sir Satyrane’s -horse, for, by this time, they had both again mounted their steeds, -chanced to stumble, so that his rider was well-nigh cast to the ground. -This Sir Cambell perceiving, was not slow to seize the occasion, but -dealt him so sore a blow on the crest of his helmet that he fell to the -ground. Then Sir Cambell leapt from his steed, and would have spoiled -him of his arms. But this, which, indeed, is a custom of the battlefield -rather than of the tourney, the knights who were of Sir Satyrane’s party -would not suffer. Hastening to their comrade’s help, they closed his -adversary in so close a ring that though he laid about him most bravely, -yet could he not deliver himself—for what could one against so many? So -he was taken prisoner and led away. - -It chanced somehow that the news of what had befallen Sir Cambell came -to Sir Triamond where he lay in his bed. In a moment of time he leapt -therefrom, wholly forgetting his wound, and sought for his armour. He -sought, but he found it not, for indeed, Cambell was wearing it at the -very time. But the arms and armour of Sir Cambell he found. These he -donned without delay, and issued forth to take such chance as might -befall him. There he saw his friend and companion Cambell as he was led -away captive in the midst of a great press of knights, and the sight -moved him to great wrath. He thrust himself into the thickest of the -press, and smote down all that were in his way till he came to where -Cambell was led a prisoner between two knights. Fiercely did he assail -these two, and they, for their own lives’ sake, were constrained to let -him go. Then he, seizing a sword from one of them, laid about him with -all his might, for both his own wrong and the wounding of his friend -stirred a great wrath in him. So these two made great havoc over all the -field, till the trumpet sounded the end of the battle for that day. By -common consent the prize of the day was adjudged to these two, Cambell -and Triamond, but to which of the two was doubtful, for they strove -together, each advancing the other’s cause, so that the matter was -postponed. - -On the third and last day of the tournament many valiant deeds were -done, not without great hurt and damage to many that contended in the -field. There might be seen that day full many a shivered shield, and -swords strewn upon the ground, horses also running loose without their -riders, and squires helping their lords who were in evil plight. But, -for the most part, the knights of the Queen fared the better, and among -the knights there was not one that fought with better success than the -brave Sir Satyrane. Now and again his fortune failed him; but ever it -returned again, and he was the best stay and support of his side. - -But when it was now past noon, there came forth from the other side a -strange knight whom no one knew. Strange he was and strange was his -disguise, for all his armour was covered with moss from the wood, and -his horse had trappings of oak leaves, and on his shield, which had -ragged edges, was written this motto: _Salvagesse sans Finesse_. He, as -soon as he had come upon the field, charged the first knight that was in -his way. This was the stout Sir Sanglier, a valiant man, well approved -in many battles; but now he was laid low at the very first encounter. -And after him Sir Brianor came to a worse fate, for he was killed -outright. Seven knights, one after the other, he overthrew; and when his -spear was broken, then he worked no less damage with his sword. Shields -and helmets he broke through, and wasted all the array of knights, as a -lion wastes a flock of sheep. So Satyrane and his party were turned to -flight, for, indeed, no man could stand before him. And when they would -find out his name, no one knew it, so that they were constrained to call -him the Savage Knight. But he was in truth Sir Artegall. - -It was said by a wise man of old time that no man should be accounted -happy before the end, because it cannot be known what change of fortune -may befall him. And so it proved that day with Sir Artegall. For when -the sun was laid low in the heavens, but before the trumpet had sounded, -there came forth from the ranks of the Queen’s knights a stranger. First -he charged at Sir Artegall and tumbled him backwards over his horse’s -tail, with so heavy a fall that he had small desire to rise again. This -when Sir Cambell saw he charged with all his might; and he, too, could -be seen lying on the plain. In like manner fared Sir Triamond when he -would have avenged his friend’s disgrace. Nor did Sir Blandamour succeed -where these had failed. Many another famous knight was overthrown that -day, yet without loss of honour, for they had to yield to the enchanted -spear of Britomart. So when the trumpet sounded on the third day of Sir -Satyrane’s great tournament, the honour rested with the knights of Queen -Gloriana. - - - - - CHAPTER XXIV - OF FLORIMELL’S GIRDLE - - -The tournament being ended, the next thing in order to be done was to -adjudge the prizes. For the first day the prize was given to Sir -Satyrane, as has been told before, because, having been first at the -beginning, he was also first at the end. For the second day Sir Triamond -was held to have excelled all others: Cambell, indeed, was victor, but -then Triamond had saved him from imprisonment, and he who saves the -victor is, without controversy, first of all. For the third day the -prize was adjudged to Britomart, or, as men called her, the Knight of -the Ebony Spear, for who she was in truth no one knew. Nor could this -judgment be disputed, for, whereas the Savage Knight had overthrown all -others, so was he overthrown by her. And this third prize was held to be -the most honourable of all, and the knight to whom it was given the -first of all. And because by good right beauty and valour go together, -there must needs be a trial of the dames, who should be reckoned the -fairest, with the girdle of Florimell for prize. - -First came Sir Cambell, leading his wife, the fair Cambina, clad in a -veil which covered her from head to foot, which being taken away, such -was her beauty that all hearts were won. Nevertheless, when Sir -Triamond, coming next, showed his wife Canacé, they were not less moved -by the sight. And some greatly admired the false Duessa, when Sir -Paridell led her forth before the company, for some hearts are moved by -one thing and some by another. Nor did the Lady Lucida, whose champion -was Sir Ferramont, want for worshippers; nor, indeed, did any one of the -hundred dames assembled in that place, lack some to champion her. Yet, -doubtless, the great number of the votes had been given to Amoret, when -Britomart led her forth, but that she also was surpassed in the common -judgment by Sir Blandamour’s Florimell, not the true Florimell, it must -be understood, but the false which the witch woman had made. For in -comparison of her all others seemed but base, even as the stars seem to -grow dull when the moon is shining at her full. “This,” said they all, -“is no mortal creature, but an angel from heaven.” - -Even so when some cunning smith overlays base metal with covering of -gold, he lays upon it so fair a gloss that it seems to surpass the true -gold itself. So they who had looked upon the true Florimell thought to -themselves, “The dame is fairer than ever before!” For ever it is that -false things do seem to excel the true, so weak and false are the -judgments of men. - -Then, by common consent, the girdle was adjudged to her as being the -fairest of all; but lo! when they thought to bind it round her waist, -they could not prevail to do it. So soon as they fastened it, it seemed -to loose itself and fall away, as if there was some secret hindrance and -want of fitness. And so it fared with many other dames when they assayed -the same; when they would have girt the thing about their waists, they -could not. However fast it seemed to be, it was soon seen to be loose. -Then a certain squire, who thought scorn of women, cried aloud: “Surely -this is a sorrowful sight, that out of so many fair dames not one can -fit to herself the girdle of beauty! Shame on the man who thought of -this fatal device! May he never find fair lady to love him!” At which -saying all the knights laughed loud, and all the ladies frowned. - -And now the gentle Amoret, coming last of all that company, took the -girdle in her hands, and put it around her waist, and lo! it fitted to a -marvel. But the false Florimell snatched it away as if in anger, and -would have clasped it round her own waist. She clasped it, but it fitted -as ill as before. Nevertheless it was adjudged to her as her right, for -such the common voice had been; and she herself was assigned to the -Knight of the Ebony Spear, that is, to Britomart. But she was -ill-content: “Nay, nay,” she said, all thinking that it was the Knight -of the Ebony Spear that spoke, “I am no light of love; I am still -steadfast to my own Amoret.” Then she was adjudged to the Savage Knight, -but he had already departed in great wrath; and then to Triamond, but he -was faithful to his Canacé; and after Triamond to Sir Satyrane. He -indeed was well content. But then arose great strife, and, like enough, -there had been a drawing of swords, but for this strange happening. Sir -Satyrane stood forth and said: - -“Surely we have had enough of battles; why should we fight again the old -quarrels? Let the fair lady choose for herself. Surely the love that -comes of her will is the sweetest of all!” To this they all consented. -And so the choice was given to the false Florimell. Long looked she upon -each gallant knight, for it seemed as if she would willingly have -pleased them all; but at the last she turned to Bragadocchio, for he -also stood among the rest, and said: - -“This is the man I choose!” Great was the wrath of all the company of -knights, for they knew not how fitting it was that the false beauty -should choose the valour that was false. - - - - - CHAPTER XXV - OF BRITOMART AND ARTEGALL - - -Britomart grew not a little weary of these strivings of knights and -dames. Therefore she departed, taking with her the Lady Amoret, for she -was still bent on finding the Knight of the Mirror. An unlucky maid she -was, in truth, thus seeking one who had been her adversary, to whom she -had been so near, though she knew it not. Great was her grief, and great -also her toil, for neither grief nor toil did she spare, thinking that -could she find him, there would be both an end of her own toil and a -solace for her grief. The gentle Amoret also, who was her companion, had -a sorrow of her own, for she sought for her Scudamore; but he, unhappy -man, had his heart full of hatred and revenge. For that evil hag, whose -name was Até or Strife, had poisoned it with suspicion. The very one who -had best served him, he hated most, even Britomart. Neither could -Glaucé, for she went with him, serving him as a squire, abate his rage, -for all that she could say. - -And now, as though the evil counsels of Strife had not wrought trouble -enough for him, he must needs put another burden on his soul. As they -journeyed on, the night came upon them unawares, very heavy with cloud -and rain. They, seeking some place where they might find shelter, -perceived upon a steep hillside what seemed to be a poor man’s cottage. -And underneath there ran a little stream, but the water was muddy and -thick, and had an evil smell. As they came near they heard the sound of -hammers, and judged that it must be a blacksmith’s forge. Entering in, -they found the goodman of the place busy with his work. He was of a mean -and wretched aspect, spent, it would seem, with weariness. His eyes were -hollow, and his cheeks fallen in, like to one who had been many months -in a prison cell; his face was begrimed with smoke and his beard ragged, -as if neither comb nor shears had ever passed upon it. Rude were his -garments, and hanging in rags, and his hands were blistered with -burning, with nails long left unpared. Care was his name, and his trade -was the working of wedges of iron. To what purpose they could serve, -neither he nor anyone knew. Such are the idle doubts and fears which -Care drives into the hearts of men. Nor was it he alone that was busy -with this toil; six stout workers stood about the forge, all with huge -hammers in their hands, which they plied in order. Much did Sir -Scudamore wonder to see their work; but when he had watched it awhile, -he asked them of its purpose, saying, “What make you?” But they answered -not a word, nor did they hold their hands for a moment; the bellows blew -like to a cold blast from the north, and the din of the hammers ceased -not. - -When the knight saw that no one answered, he laid himself down upon the -floor, seeking to rest his weary limbs; Glaucé did the like; and sore -was her need of rest, for she was old and feeble, and they had journeyed -that day a long and weary way. She slept indeed, but to Sir Scudamore -there came no sleeping. Now he would lie on this side, now on that; now -he lay in one place, now in another. Anon he would rise from his place, -and then lie down again. But every change was to no purpose, and every -place seemed full of pain. Also the dogs howled and barked all the night -long, and the cocks crowed, and the owls hooted; and if by chance -slumber came down upon his eyes, then one of the workers smote his -headpiece with a hammer, for they indeed rested not all the night. As -morning drew near, he fell into a sleep, so utterly wearied was he, but -sleep was worse than waking, for it brought evil thoughts of those whom -he was most bound to love and trust. - -The next day Sir Scudamore and Glaucé, serving him as his squire, -started betimes from the house of Care, for his was the dwelling where -they had spent the night. After a while they espied a knight sitting -beside a wood, while his horse grazed in the field hard by. The man -mounted, so soon as he saw them, and rode forward, as did also Sir -Scudamore. But when the two were near enough that each could discern -what arms the other wore, the Knight of the Wood lowered his spear and -turned his horse aside, saying, “Gentle Scudamore, pardon me, I pray -you, that I had unknowingly almost trespassed against you!” - -“I blame you not,” answered Sir Scudamore; “such happenings may well be -to knights who seek for adventures. But, sir, as you call me by my name, -may I be bold enough to ask you yours?” - -The other made answer: “I pray you pardon me if I withhold my name for a -time; the time serves not that I should make it known. May it please you -to call me the _Savage Knight_, for thus I am commonly known.” - -Sir Scudamore said: “This place seems to suit well the arms which you -are pleased to wear. But tell me, have you any special purpose to serve -that you abide in this place?” - -“Sir,” replied the other, “be it known to you that a stranger knight did -me but the other day a great shame and dishonour, and I wait till I can -take vengeance on him.” - -“Tell me,” answered Sir Scudamore, “who it is that wronged you.” - -“His name,” said the Savage Knight, “is unknown, yet he himself is known -to many, especially by the ebony spear which he carries. It was but the -other day that with this spear he overthrew all that met him in the -tourney, and reft from me the honour of the day; not only so, for of -these things a knight may not complain, but he took from me the fairest -lady that ever was, and withholds her still.” - -Then Sir Scudamore knew that he spoke of Britomart, who, as he thought, -had taken from him his love. All his heart was full of rage, and he -cried out: “Now, by my head, this is not the first time of this knight’s -playing an unknightly part, for I know him by this same spear which he -bears. From me also did he carry away my love. If you purpose to take -vengeance on him, I will give you all the help that I can.” So these two -agreed to join together in wreaking their wrath on the Knight of the -Ebony Spear, that is to say, on Britomart. - -While they were communing together on this matter, they saw in the -distance a knight riding slowly towards them, somewhat strangely -attired, and bearing strange arms, whom approaching they perceived to be -the very one of whom they were speaking. - -Then said Sir Scudamore: “I beseech you, Sir Savage Knight, that as I -was first wronged, so I may first take vengeance. And if I fail, then -the lot comes to you.” - -[Illustration: Sir Scudamore overthrown by Britomart.] - -To this the other gave his assent. Thereupon Sir Scudamore charged at -her with all his might and at his horse’s top speed, which she -perceiving, made herself ready, and gave him so rough a welcome that she -smote to the ground both horse and man; and this so strongly, that -neither had any mind to rise therefrom. This Sir Artegall perceiving, -felt in himself a yet greater anger than before, and laying his lance in -rest, charged also with all his strength. But he also was laid upon the -ground, for there was nothing that could withstand the enchanted spear. -Nevertheless he fared better than his fellow, in that he rose lightly -from the ground, and drawing his sword, leapt fiercely at his adversary. -So sore were his strokes, that though she was on horseback, she was -constrained to give place before him. As they turned this way and that, -it chanced that a blow which Sir Artegall aimed at the Princess, -glancing down the corslet which she wore, lighted on the back of her -horse, wounding him so sorely upon the back, in the rear of the saddle, -that she was compelled to alight. Not a whit was she dismayed at this -mischance, and casting down her enchanted spear, betook herself to use -sword and shield. And now the fortune of the fight changed somewhat, for -he was not a little spent by long fighting on foot, and she, having been -mounted hitherto, had the advantage. Hence it followed that she drove -him backwards, and even, so heavy were her blows, wounded him through -his coat of mail. And now behold! another change. She was over-hasty in -her assault, and her breath began to fail; and he on the other hand -reserved his strength, and dealt his blows as thick as the hailstones -fall upon a roof—unhappy man, who came so near to slaying the fairest -creature in all the world! Still was the battle waged between these two, -but ever Sir Artegall grew the stronger and Britomart the weaker. At -last he dealt a stroke that, had it been aimed aright, had surely gone -near to slay her; but, by good chance, it did but shear away the visor -of her helmet, so that her face could plainly be seen, somewhat reddened -indeed by long toil, and with the sweat standing on it in great drops, -but yet fair beyond all comparison. And at the same time her hair, its -band being broken, fell down as it were a river of gold flowing about -her. Already had the knight lifted his hand to strike again; but when he -saw the fair face and golden hair his arm was, as it were, benumbed, his -sword dropped from his hand, and he himself fell upon his knees. - -“Surely,” he said to himself, “this is some goddess that I see before -me.” She stood, indeed, in great wrath, for she had been in sore -straits, and anger ever follows close on fear, and made as if she would -strike him, but he could do nothing but ask for pardon. Nor was Sir -Scudamore less amazed, for he had by this time recovered from his swoon, -when he saw the sight. - -And now Glaucé, glad at heart to see again the mistress whom she had -missed so long, drew near, and made her a reverence, saying: “Truly I -rejoice to see you safe after so many toils and dangers. And now, dear -daughter, as you love me, grant these knights a truce.” - -“So be it,” Britomart made answer. Thereupon they lifted up their -visors, so that their faces could be seen. And when Britomart looked on -the face of Artegall, behold it was the very countenance of the knight -whom she had seen long since in the magic mirror! And as she saw it her -haughty spirit abated. She could never again lift hand against him; nay, -when she thought to use her tongue, and reproach him with angry words, -even her tongue failed her. - -And now Sir Scudamore, greatly rejoiced to know that all his fears and -suspicions were false, drew near and said: “Surely it makes me glad, Sir -Artegall, to see you who were wont to despise all dames, bow yourself -before one in so lowly a fashion.” And when Britomart heard the name of -Artegall, her heart leaped within her breast, nor for all her feigning -could she hide the gladness which she felt. Then said Glaucé again: -“Gentle knights, be thankful for the happy chance which has brought so -strange an ending to your fears and troubles. Here is no thief that -would take away from you the ladies whom you love. And you, Sir -Artegall, who call yourself the Savage Knight, count it no shame that a -maid has so bravely held her own against you, and strive no longer -against love, which is the very crown of knighthood. And you, fair lady, -turn away your wrath; if there is fire in your heart, let it be the fire -of love.” Britomart blushed deep to hear these words, and Sir Artegall -was glad at heart. - -And now Sir Scudamore, who was divided between hope and fear concerning -his Amoret, spoke, saying: “Pardon me if I ask you for tidings of my -Amoret. I know that you delivered her at no small peril from the -Enchanter’s prison. Where is she? for I would seek her, as is, indeed, -my bounden duty.” - -Britomart answered: “Sir Knight, it grieves me much that I cannot tell -you what you seek to know. After I had delivered her from the Enchanter, -as you know, I kept her safe. And truly there never was companion more -dear to me than she. But one day, as we travelled, we lighted from our -steeds by the wayside, to rest awhile. Then I laid myself down to sleep; -but when I woke from my sleep, she was nowhere to be seen. I called her; -I sought her far and near; but nowhere could I find her, or hear tidings -of her.” - -When Sir Scudamore heard these words, he was greatly troubled, and stood -like to a man who has received a mortal blow. But Glaucé said: “Be not -discouraged, fair sir; hope still for the best; why should you trouble -yourself in vain?” - -Little comfort did he take of these words, but when Britomart said, -“Truly you have great cause for trouble; yet take comfort, by the light -of day I swear that I will never leave you till I find and give her back -to you,” then was he not a little comforted, for he had a great trust -that what Britomart promised she would surely perform. - -Then they all journeyed together to a castle that was near, Sir Artegall -being their guide. There they rested till their wounds were healed and -their strength repaired. Meanwhile Sir Artegall paid court to Britomart, -who, after much persuasion, though, indeed, she was not unwilling in her -heart, consented to take him for her husband. Nevertheless their -marriage could not be yet, because Sir Artegall was bound on a great -adventure which he must needs carry through. Nor could she refuse to -allow him to depart, seeing that his honour was bound in the matter. -Only it was agreed that when three months had waxed and waned, then he -should return. So the knight departed, Britomart going with him for a -part of his journey. Full loath was she to leave him, finding ever new -occasions for delay. And when these were all spent, then with a heavy -heart did she return to the castle, for she also had business in hand, -even to seek together with Sir Scudamore for the lost Amoret. - - - - - CHAPTER XXVI - OF THE FORTUNES OF AMORET - - -It shall now be told how the fair Amoret was lost. She and Britomart, -riding away from the place where Sir Satyrane had held his tournament, -chanced in their journey upon a wood. There it seemed good to them to -rest awhile. Britomart, being not a little wearied with fighting in the -lists, fell fast asleep, but Amoret walked in the wood. As she walked a -giant rushed out of a thicket hard by and seized her; she cried aloud; -but Britomart heard her not, so deep was she in slumber. A horrible -monster to behold he was, feeding on the raw flesh of men and beasts, -with a face red as blood, and two great ears, like to the ears of an -elephant. He was covered with shaggy hair, and in his hand a young oak -with sharp snags that had been hardened in the fire, till they were as -steel. He carried her through the wood to his cave, and threw her in. -For a while she lay without sense; then, being somewhat recovered, she -heard someone sighing and sobbing, and inquired who it was that spoke. - -Then that other said: “Listen, unhappy one, and I will tell you my -story, from which you may learn in what plight you yourself are. Twenty -days have I dwelt in this dreadful place; and in these twenty days have -I seen seven women slain and devoured. And now he has for store three -only, yourself and me and an old woman yonder; and of these three he -will surely devour one to-morrow. And if you ask my history it is this. -I am daughter to a lord of high degree, and it happened to me to love a -squire of low degree. Of low degree he was, but so comely as to be a fit -mate for the proudest lady in the land. Nevertheless, my father, loving -me well after his fashion, and seeking my advancement, would have none -of him. But I, being steadfast in my mind, made a resolve to flee far -from my home, and take with my lover such a lot as fortune might bring. -On a certain day, therefore, it was appointed that I should meet him at -a certain place. To which place I came, but he, alas! was not there. -Then this monster found me, and carried me away as an eagle carries off -a dove.” - -After they had talked awhile, lo! the monster himself came back to his -cave. And Amoret, as soon as she saw him, leapt from her place, which -chanced to be near to the mouth of the cave, and fled away on her feet -as fast as she could; and the monster, perceiving her flight, pursued -her. Fleet of foot was she, but it had fared ill with her but for a -happy chance which brought her help beyond all hope, as shall now be -told. - -There dwelt in those parts a famous huntress, Belphœbe by name; this -Belphœbe was own sister to Amoret. That day she was following the chase, -pursuing leopards and bears, of which beasts there was a great multitude -in those woods. With her were her companions, the forest nymphs, and -also a gentle squire, who was her lover. Now the squire chanced to be -separated from the rest of his company, and so came to the very place -where the monster was in chase of Amoret. By this time he had overtaken -her and caught her up in his arms. And when the squire perceived it, and -set upon him, seeking to deliver her out of his hands, the villain used -this crafty device. When the squire would have thrust at him with the -hunting-spear which he carried, then the monster would shield himself -with the body of Amoret. And when the squire held back his blow, or when -the blow chanced to fall ever so lightly on the dame, then the monster -laughed aloud. So they two contended awhile; but at the last the squire -dealt his adversary a shrewd blow and wounded him sorely. But this did -not abate his rage, for, throwing Amoret on the ground, he set upon the -squire so fiercely with his club, that the man had much ado to save -himself from being beaten down. Nor can it be known what had been the -issue, for now Belphœbe, hearing the sound of the strokes through the -wood, and guided by her ear, drew near, holding her bow in her hand, -with an arrow upon the string, ready to be despatched. When the monster -saw her, he, knowing how deadly was her aim, turned and fled. Nor did -she fail to pursue; swift of foot was she, and ere he could reach his -cave, she smote him on the back of the neck with an arrow. He fell to -the ground with a great crash, and when she came up, thinking to put an -end to him, lo! he was already dead. Thereupon she went into the cave, -and while she wondered that a place could be so foul, she heard a -whispering and a low sort of groaning. Then she said to herself: “Are -these spirits that suffer in this place of dread and darkness?” and -afterwards aloud, “If there be any here, let them come forth, if only -they be free to move.” Thereupon Æmilia stood up from the place where -she had been lying, and told her story. “Come forth,” said Belphœbe, -when she heard the tale; “haply, I may give you help.” So she led her to -the place where she had left the squire and the fair Amoret. And now -there befell an evil chance which brought about no small trouble. - -Amoret was in a piteous plight, as may easily be believed. For first she -had been affrighted almost to death by the monster, and then she had -been sorely bruised when he cast her so roughly to the ground. So she -lay as one without life, and the gentle squire was full of compassion -when he saw her hurts, especially the wound which he himself had made -with his hunting-spear, when the monster held her before him as a -shield. And now Belphœbe, coming back from the cave, saw him looking at -her, as it might be, in lover’s fashion, and a great pang of jealousy -and anger moved in her heart. At first she thought to slay them both -with the arrow which she held in her hand. But keeping herself back from -this, she cried: “Is this, then, the faith you keep?” And, with the -word, she turned her face and fled into the wood. The squire, knowing -that he was wrongly blamed, made haste to follow her, yet, overtaking -her, he did not dare to come near; and when he would have told her the -truth, she would not listen, but made as if she would slay him with an -arrow. So, after having long followed her in vain, he turned back, and -finding a solitary place in the depth of a forest, made there a cabin -for himself, where he dwelt in most unhappy sort. His weapons of war he -broke, and vowed never to use them again. Also he swore a great oath -that he would never more speak to woman; his garments, which were of the -seemliest fashion, he cut into the strangest shape, and his hair he -suffered to grow as it would and fall untrimmed about his shoulders. So -he lived for many days. - -It chanced one day that a turtle dove which also had lost its mate came -near, and, as if it could understand what was in his heart, behaved in a -most friendly and familiar fashion. And this it did again and again. The -bird would sit upon the branch of a tree hard by, and sing to him; and -he, by way of guerdon for its song, would share with him such slender -meals as he had. On a certain day he brought out from a certain place -certain gifts which Belphœbe had bestowed upon him in the days when the -affection between them was yet unbroken. Among these was a ruby of the -finest water, with a gold setting in the shape of a heart and a chain of -gold fastened to the setting. This jewel he took, and binding it with a -riband of his lady’s colour, tied it round the neck of the dove, and -solaced his mind by gazing on it. But no sooner had the bird felt the -jewel tied about his neck than he spread out his wings and flew away. -Not a little troubled was he at this matter, for he had lost, not the -companionship of the bird only, but the jewel also. So was his trouble -not a little increased. But the bird flew in a straight line to the -abode of Belphœbe, and found her sitting in an arbour, taking rest from -the toils of the chase. For she still followed in the ways of a -huntress, though, in truth, she was not a little troubled that she had -lost her lover. So soon as she saw the bird, she spied the jewel about -his neck, and knew it for her own gift, and the riband also wherewith it -was bound. Thereupon she rose from her place, and would have caught it -in her hand, but the bird flew away. For a short space it flew, and then -tarried for a space, and then when Belphœbe came near, flew away once -more. So it drew the lady on from place to place, ever seeming ready to -be caught, yet ever again escaping, till it brought her to the place -where the squire dwelt in his unhappiness. There it perched on his hand, -and sang a song, sweet and sad, as if to suit his sorrowful estate. So -spent was he with grief and trouble that the lady knew him not, but only -saw that he was in great misery, yet judged that he had fallen into it -from better things. Thereupon she said: “Unhappy man, what has brought -you into this evil plight? If it is Heaven’s will, then we must submit; -but if it is of man’s wrongdoing, then may the wrong be set right. But -if it is of your own will, know that no man should so neglect the gifts -of God, who wills that all should be happy.” - -“O lady,” answered the squire, “surely it is no one but yourself that -has brought me into this trouble.” And he showed her the whole truth. - -So peace was made again between the two. - - - - - CHAPTER XXVII - OF SIR ARTEGALL AND THE KNIGHT SANGLIER - - -It is now time that the story of Sir Artegall should be told; how he was -bred up in the ways of justice. Now this story, as it was commonly -reported, was this: Astræa, who was the Goddess of Justice, found him -when he was a child playing with other children of a like age; she, -liking him well, and finding him innocent and without guile, took him -away with her to a solitary place where she dwelt—for as yet she lived -upon the earth—and there instructed and trained him to be such an one as -she desired. She taught him to weigh right and wrong in equal scales, -and to measure out equity according to the rule of conscience. And -because there were no men in the place, she taught him to seek -experience of the right way among the beasts of the forest; for these -also oppress their own kind. Also she caused him to be instructed in the -use of arms, in which use he became in due time most expert, so that he -came to be held in high repute, as being one who could not only -distinguish most truly between right and wrong, but could also maintain -the same by force of arms. Also she gave him a sword of great repute -which Jupiter himself had used in his war against the Titans; Chrysaor -was its name, which, being interpreted, is “Sword of Gold.” Of finest -temper was it, and beautiful to behold. Also she gave her servant to -attend upon him—Talus was his name. This same Talus wielded an iron -flail with which to thresh out falsehood and separate the truth. - -This Artegall, being now come to years of manhood, betook himself, as -was the wont of all worthy knights in those days, to the Court of Queen -Gloriana. And she gave him as the task which he should accomplish, the -succouring of a distressed lady, Irene by name, from whom a tyrant, whom -men called Grantorto, withheld the heritage which was rightly hers. For -she judged that there was no man who could better discern the right, and -having discerned it could more effectually cause it to prevail. - -So it came to pass that he and Talus, who was his squire, rode off on -their errand. On their way they saw as sorry a sight as ever was seen by -mortal eyes, a squire sitting upon the ground in most doleful fashion, -and hard by him, lying on the ground, the headless corpse of a lady. It -was indeed a piteous thing to see the gay apparel of the dead, most -cruelly drenched in blood. - -“Now tell me,” cried Sir Artegall, “by what foul mischance this dreadful -thing has happened.” - -“Oh, sir,” answered the squire, “as I sat here with the lady whom I -love, there came riding by a knight who had in his company this fair -dame whom you see lying here. And whether he was taken with the sight of -my love, or was weary of his own, I know not; but this he said: ‘Ho! -fellow, let us make exchange.’ And when I denied his request, and the -two ladies also cried out upon him, then he threw down the dame his -companion on the ground, and lawlessly taking away from me my own, set -her upon his horse. And when his lady saw what he had done, and how he -was riding away, she followed him as fast as she could, and laying hold -of his arm, cried out: ‘Leave me not in this fashion; slay me rather!’ -And he in a fury drew his sword, and with a single stroke shore off her -head, even in the place where now she lies. And now he has gone, taking -my love with him.” - -“Tell me,” said Sir Artegall, “by which way he went. Tell me also by -what signs I may know him.” - -“But, fair sir,” the squire made answer, “he has gone so long that you -can scarce hope to overtake him. Yet, if you would know the way, he rode -across the plain.” And he pointed with his hand to the course which the -knight had followed. “As for the marks, know that he carried on his -shield a broken sword on a field of blood; and, indeed, it seemed to be -a fitting emblem.” - -“Follow him,” said Sir Artegall to his page Talus. And the page followed -him swift as a swallow flies over a field. Nor was it long before he -overtook the knight—Sir Sanglier he was called—and bade him come back -with him, and answer for his deed. No little scorn did the knight feel -to be so commanded, and, setting down the lady whom he carried on his -steed, rode at the page Talus with all his force. Full on the body he -struck him, but moved him no more than a rock is moved by some stone -that is thrown at it. On the other hand, Talus dealt him such a blow -that he laid him prostrate on the ground. Ere he could recover himself, -Talus had seized him in an iron grip, and forced him to follow him, the -lady also, though she would have fled in her fear, following. So they -came to Sir Artegall. - -“What is this that you have done?” said Sir Artegall. - -“Nay,” said the knight, “I did it not: I am guiltless of the blood of -this dame, and this I will prove on the body of this false squire, if he -will meet me hand to hand.” - -Now the squire was not of such prowess as to meet so doughty a knight. -Then said Sir Artegall: “This is a doubtful cause, which it were not -well to try by arbitrament of battle. Will you therefore commit the -matter to me, and abide by my judgment and sentence?” - -To this they both consented. Then said Sir Artegall: “Since each of you -denies that this lady came by her death through his deed, and each -claims the living lady as his own, my judgment is that both the living -and the dead shall be equally divided, and each shall have his part both -of one and of the other. Also I decree that if either of you two shall -reject this my sentence, he shall carry this head as a penance for -twelve months, by way of witness that he brought about her death.” - -Sir Sanglier gladly accepted the doom, but the squire was ill-content, -for he really loved the dame who had been reft from him. “Nay,” said he, -“I would rather by far that she should live, though I lose her.” - -“’Tis well said, squire!” cried Sir Artegall, “and now I perceive that -you are indeed guiltless in this matter. As for you, Sir Knight, who -care so little for the living or the dead, take this head and carry it -for a twelve months’ space, to be a witness of your shame and guilt.” -Sir Sanglier was ill content with this sentence, and would have refused -to abide by it. Only, when he saw Talus approaching with intent to -compel him, he made his submission, for he knew by experience how great -was his strength. - -Then said the squire: “Oh, sir, you have done me such service as I can -never repay. Let me therefore attend you as your squire, and that -without fee or favour.” - -“Not so,” Sir Artegall made answer, “I am well content to be as I am. Do -you follow your own affairs. As for me, Talus here will be sufficient -for my needs.” - - - - - CHAPTER XXVIII - OF OTHER ADVENTURES OF SIR ARTEGALL - - -As Sir Artegall, with Talus following, rode on, he met a dwarf who was -travelling with all the speed that he could use. “Stay awhile,” he said, -“for I have somewhat to ask of you.” And the dwarf, though somewhat -loath, could not but yield. Now the dwarf’s name was Dony, and he served -the fair Florimell. Not a little of his discourse, therefore, concerned -the said Florimell. He told how Marinell was recovered of the grievous -wound which Britomart had given him, and how he was to wed the fair -Florimell. - -“Say you so?” cried Artegall. “Tell me, therefore, when the marriage -shall be, for I would fain be present at the celebration.” - -“In three days’ time, as I am informed,” answered the dwarf, “and I too -should be there, and the place is the castle by the seashore; only there -is a hindrance in the way, for a little farther on from this place, a -cruel Saracen keeps the bridge by which one must needs pass. Much harm -has he done already to travellers, and men are fain to shun the way that -lies thereby.” - -“Tell me more about the villain,” said Sir Artegall. Then Dony set forth -the whole matter. - -“He is a man of great strength, and expert in battle. Moreover, he is -not a little helped by the charms with which the wicked witch, his -daughter, supports him. Thus he has gathered together much wealth, store -of gold, and lordships and farms. This wealth he daily increases, -greatly by means of this same bridge which he holds by force of arms. No -one will he suffer to go over unless he first pays a toll, be he rich or -poor. If the traveller be poor, then a squire whom he sets over this -business extorts from him this tribute. As for the richer sort, these he -deals with himself. Men call him Pollenté, which, being interpreted, is -‘Powerful,’ and the name is fitting, for much power he has. And besides -the power he has not a little cunning, for he is wont to fight on this -same bridge. Exceeding long is it and narrow, and full of pitfalls which -he knows, but a stranger knows not. And often it happens that the -stranger falls through one of these said pitfalls into the river -beneath. And while he is confused with his fall, Pollenté leaps into the -river and takes him at a disadvantage, and either slays him outright or -causes him to drown. Then he takes the spoils of them who perish in this -fashion, and brings them to his daughter, who dwells hard by. Thus she -has gathered together great store of wealth, so that she exceeds even -kings. Her they call Munera. Very fair is she, and gorgeously attired; -many lords have sought to have her for a wife, but in her pride she -thinks scorn of them all.” - -This is the story which Dony the dwarf told to Sir Artegall. When the -knight heard it, he cried, “Now, by my life, I will go none other way -but this, God helping me.” - -So he went on with Talus, and the dwarf followed. When they came to the -bridge, there came to them an evil-looking villain, who said, “Give me -the passage-money, according to the custom of the place!” - -“Here,” answered Sir Artegall, “is my passage-money,” and therewith -dealt him such a blow that he fell dead upon the ground. When the -Saracen knight saw this, he was very wrath, and charged at Sir Artegall -full tilt; nor did Sir Artegall lag behind. They met in the middle of -the bridge, where there was a trap cunningly devised. The Saracen looked -that his adversary should fall into it unawares and be sorely bruised -and wounded; but Sir Artegall, having been forewarned by the dwarf, -leapt into the river, clear of all that might do damage to horse or man. -The Saracen leapt in like fashion, and the two met in the water, not one -whit less hotly than had they been on the dry land. And here the pagan -had no small advantage, for he was accustomed to fight in this fashion, -and his horse also could swim like a fish. Sir Artegall, perceiving that -the odds were against him, saw that he must close with his adversary -without delay. Long they wrestled together, and Sir Artegall never -loosened his grip one whit, and at last forced him from his saddle, so -that he no longer had the advantage of the swimming of his horse. And -yet the issue of the fight was doubtful awhile, for the Saracen was both -brave and expert in arms. Nevertheless Sir Artegall had the better -breath, as one that followed temperance in all things, and so prevailed -until the Saracen was compelled to turn from the river to the land, -hoping so to escape. Yet even as he lifted his head from the stream to -the brink, the knight dealt him so heavy a blow that it clean shore the -head from the neck. And this being done, then he went his way to the -castle where the pagan’s daughter dwelt. - -[Illustration: Sir Artegall and the Saracen.] - -Here he was denied entrance, being received with so great a shower of -stones that he was forced to retreat. Then he sent Talus, bidding him -compel an entrance. And this he did without damage to himself, and with -his iron flail he battered the door so fiercely that the whole place -shook from the foundation to the roof. All who were within were greatly -dismayed, and the Lady Munera herself came out, and stood upon the -castle wall. When she saw in what peril she was, she used all the -devices which she could imagine to deliver herself. First she besought -the adversary with many prayers to cease from his attack—and, indeed, -she was not wont to beseech in vain. Then she tried what enchantments -could do, and of these she had a great store at her command. And when -she found that prayers and enchantments availed nothing, she thought to -corrupt the man with great gifts. She caused sacks of gold and precious -things to be brought, and poured from the castle wall, thinking to -herself that he would surely cease from his battering, and give her, at -the least, some respite and delay. - -But the riches moved him no more than the entreaties and enchantments. -Still he battered with his iron flail till he broke down the door and -made a way for his master to enter. No one dared to lift a hand against -them: all through the castle they moved at their will. The Lady Munera -for a while they could not find. At the last Talus, than whom a -bloodhound was not more keen to scent a runaway, found her hidden under -a heap of gold. Thence he drew her from her lair, pitying her not at -all. For now even Sir Artegall, seeing how fair she was, had some -compassion in his heart, and when she knelt before him would have given -her some remission of the penalty. But there was no such thought in the -heart of Talus. He cared for naught but to do justice to the full. So he -took her by the waist, she crying loudly the while, and cast her into -the river. And when he had wrought this justice upon her, he took all -the pelf that he found in the castle, and ground it small to powder, and -threw it into the water. This done, he razed the castle to the ground, -destroying it utterly, so that no one in days to come should think to -set it up again. After this Sir Artegall reformed the evil customs of -the bridge, ordering that in time to come it should be free for all to -pass over. - -This good deed accomplished, they journeyed on to the castle by the sea, -where the nuptials of Sir Marinell and the fair Florimell were to be -celebrated with great honour. There were great feastings and rejoicings, -to which an infinite concourse of lords and ladies resorted from all -quarters; no knight that was held in repute for valour and deeds of arms -was absent. When the banquet, which was furnished with all rare meats -and drinks that the heart of man could desire, was finished, then the -company addressed themselves to feats of arms. First came forth Sir -Marinell and six knights with him, declaring to hold the field against -all comers, in right of Florimell, and to affirm that she was the -fairest of all the ladies upon earth. Against these there came from all -parts such as desired to try their fortune in the lists—none were -debarred. Many feats of arms were wrought that day; many knights were -unhorsed, and some were wounded; but none, so it was judged by common -consent, bore themselves more bravely than did Sir Marinell. His name, -therefore, did the heralds proclaim as the champion of the day. And on -the second day the event was the same. There was much fighting, many -suffered loss and overthrow; and in the end the heralds proclaimed, as -they had done before, the victory of Sir Marinell. But on the third day -things fell out otherwise, for the knight pursuing his adversaries when -he had put them to flight, somewhat rashly, was surrounded by them and -taken prisoner. While they were leading him away, it so chanced that Sir -Artegall came into the tilting-yard, and close behind him followed -Bragadocchio, who had in his company the false Florimell. - -When Sir Artegall understood what mishap had befallen Sir Marinell, he -said to Bragadocchio: “I would fain help this brave knight; but I would -not have anyone know who I am: therefore, I pray thee, change shields -with me.” And Bragadocchio full willingly did so, thinking that he might -thus win to himself renown without cost or danger. Sir Artegall, -therefore, taking Bragadocchio’s shield, set upon the knights who were -leading away Sir Marinell. There were a hundred in all. Of these fifty -assailed him, and the other fifty stayed behind to guard the prisoner. -But for all that there were so many they could not stand against him. -The fifty who assailed him he speedily put to flight, and the fifty who -would have kept the prisoner did not hinder Sir Artegall from setting -him free. Then Sir Marinell being delivered and armed anew, for they had -taken his arms from him, the two joined their forces and drove their -adversaries out of the field. There was not one among them who could -hold up his head or make a stand against them. When Sir Artegall had -accomplished this, then he gave back the shield to Bragadocchio, who had -stayed to see the issue of the day, keeping with him the false -Florimell. - -After this the trumpets sounded, and the judges rose up in their place -and summoned the company, saying: “Hear! All ye knights who have borne -arms to-day, and know to whom the prize of valour is awarded.” Then came -forth the fair Florimell from the place where she sat, as queen of the -tourney, that she might give to each knight his proper guerdon, and to -him who should be held to have best acquitted himself, the first prize -of all. Loudly did they call for the stranger knight who had wrought -such prodigies of valour and strength in delivering Sir Marinell. He did -not come forward, but in his stead Bragadocchio presented himself, with -the shield bearing the device which all men knew—namely, a sun shining -in a field of gold. When the company saw this, they, thinking that this -was indeed the champion, set up a great shout, and the trumpets sounded, -and Florimell rose up and greeted him most graciously, thanking him for -his championship. But all this praise turned the vain fellow’s mind. -“Not for your sake, madam,” said he, “but for my own dear lady’s sake -did I this,” adding other words such as could not pass the lips of a -true knight. Then he called to Trompart his squire, saying, “Bring forth -the fairest of all dames!” Thereupon Trompart led forth the false -Florimell; for he had her in keeping, hidden by a veil from the common -sight. - -Great was the astonishment of the company when they saw her. “This -surely is Florimell,” they said to themselves, “or, if it be not, then -it is one fairer than she.” Never were men more perplexed than the -guests that day. Nor was Sir Marinell himself less amazed than the rest, -and, as he gazed, the more and more steadfastly did he believe that this -false Florimell was indeed the true. - -But now Sir Artegall, who stood in the press of the crowd, closely -disguised, heard the false boaster’s words, and could not contain -himself any more, but came forth and cried with a loud voice: “False -boaster, strutting thus in borrowed plumes, and doing dishonour to -others with your lies, verily when each shall have his due, great will -be your disgrace! ’Tis true that the shield which you bear was this day -borne by him who delivered Sir Marinell, but yours was not the arm which -struck the blow. And now hold forth your sword and let it show what -marks of battle it bears, and if you bear in your body the mark of a -wound, let this company behold it; nay, boaster, this is the sword which -won the victory, and these the wounds which were endured in the -winning!” And here he showed his sword, which bore the dint of many a -blow, and the wounds which he carried on his arms and his body. “And,” -he further said, “as for this Florimell of yours, I warrant she is no -true dame, but only a fit companion for such as you.” Then he took the -true Florimell by the hand and led her, she blushing the while, for the -colour on her fair face was of roses mixed with lilies, and set her by -the side of the false. And then, lo! a great marvel! The false dame -melted away as snow melts in the sunshine! In a moment naught remained -of her save only the empty girdle which once had compassed her waist. So -on a day of storm we see a rainbow spanning the sky with all its goodly -colours, and in a moment it vanishes from our sight, so did this lovely -creature, the false Florimell, vanish from before the eyes of that -company. And now Sir Artegall took up the golden girdle which alone -remained of all that fair show, for this, indeed, was true, while all -else was false. This he presented to the true Florimell, and she -forthwith fastened it about her waist. Many a fair dame before had -essayed to do it, but not one had found it truly and rightly fit. - -But the end of these things was not yet, for now Sir Guyon came forth -from the crowd to claim his own good steed, which, as has been told, had -been stolen from him in time past by this false thief. With one hand he -seized the golden bit, and with the other he drew forth his sword from -its sheath, for he would have smitten the knave with a deadly blow, but -that the press hindered him, for now there was a great tumult in the -place. Thereupon Sir Artegall came forth and would fain know how the -knight had been robbed of his horse. Then Sir Guyon told the story how, -while he was busy setting right a grievous wrong, some knave had stolen -his horse. “And now,” said he, “I challenge the knave who robbed me of -it to deadly combat.” So he spoke, but Bragadocchio held back. He had no -liking for such things. - -Then said Sir Artegall: “This is truly the law of knighthood, that if -one man claim a thing and offer to make good his claim by might of arms, -and the other will not, the judgment goes against the latter by default. -Nevertheless, for further and clearer discovery of the truth, can you -who claim this horse as your own declare some tokens in proof?” - -To this answered Sir Guyon: “Most truly I can. Such a token there is: a -black spot in the beast’s mouth like in shape to a horse’s shoe.” But -when they thought to look into his mouth so as to discern the token, he -wounded first one and then another so sorely that they were like to die. -From no one would he suffer such a thing. But when Sir Guyon called him -by his name—Brigador—he, hearing the voice, stood still, as if he had -been bound, and suffered them to open his mouth, so that all could see -the mark as it had been described. Nay more, he would follow Sir Guyon, -breaking the band with which he was tied, and frisked right gaily, ay, -and bent his knee. - -Then said Sir Artegall: “Now it may be plainly discerned that the horse -is indeed yours. Take it therefore, with its saddle of gold, and let -this boaster go horseless, till he can win a steed for himself.” - -Much was Bragadocchio moved to be so shamed in the presence of all that -company—so moved that for a while he laid aside his very cowardice, and -broke forth into angry words against Sir Artegall. The knight made as if -he would have slain the knave with his sword, but Sir Guyon stayed him. -“Sir,” said he, “it would ill suit your dignity to vent your wrath on -such a knave as this. The meetest punishment for him is to be put to -open shame in the sight of all this company.” - -But Talus was not minded to let the knave escape so easily. He caught -him by the neck and led him out of the hall, and shaved his beard, and -reft away his shield, and blotted out the escutcheon, and defaced all -his arms. Nor did the false squire, Trompart, fare better, though he -cunningly had essayed to fly, for Talus overtook him and served him in -the like way. So may all makers of falsehood fare! - - - - - CHAPTER XXIX - SIR ARTEGALL DOES JUSTICE - - -The marriage of Sir Marinell and the fair Florimell having been duly -celebrated with much rejoicing and great festivity, Sir Artegall set -forth again upon his travels. On his way, which for a while lay by the -seashore, he came upon two men who were wholly taken up with a great -quarrel. They were brothers, as might clearly be seen by the likeness -between them. Near them stood two fair dames who would fain have -reconciled them; but the brothers took no heed of their words, whether -they spoke gently or in threatening fashion. Between them stood a strong -chest, bound about with bands of iron; it seemed to have been much -battered, whether by the violence of the sea or by the chances of long -travel from foreign parts. It was indeed for this that the two seemed to -be contending, for now the one and now the other would lay his hands -upon it; so did they well-nigh come to blows, but the two damsels had so -far hindered them from coming to this extremity. Not the less were they -bent on trying their cause by the sword. It seemed as if it could not be -decided in any other fashion. But when they were on the point to do so, -notwithstanding all that the damsels could say or do, then did Sir -Artegall appear. - -“Sirs,” said he, “are you content to tell me the cause of your strife?” -To this the two gave a common consent. - -“Sir,” said the elder—Bracidas was his name—“our father, who was a -knight, Milesio by name, divided between us, by his testament, his -estate, that is to say, two islands which you see yonder. One is but a -little mount, but in years past it was fully as long and broad as that -which you see on the other side of the bay. To me he bequeathed that -island which you see to be so small; for the sea, as years have passed -by, has wasted it, and in so doing has largely increased the other, for -what the waves took away from my land they added unto his. There is also -this to be told. I was betrothed to that fair lady who stands yonder, -Philtera by name, and with her I was to receive a goodly dowry, so soon -as we should be linked together in bonds of wedlock. My younger brother, -whose name is Amidas, was betrothed to that other dame whom you see -yonder, Lucy by name. She had but small dower, but much of that which is -far better—to wit, goodness. Now when the lady Philtera saw that my -lands had been greatly decayed and the lands of my brother not less -increased, she deserted me and betook herself to my brother, who, that -he might receive her, deserted his own betrothed, to wit, the fair Lucy. -Thereupon this damsel, in her unhappiness, thinking it better to die -than to suffer such a contumely and pain, threw herself into the sea. -But while she floated among the waves, being, I take it, buoyed up by -her clothing, she chanced upon this chest which you see. And now there -befell her what has often befallen others in like case. She, who had -thought death to be better than life, when she saw his terrors close at -hand, changed her mind, and desired to live. Catching hold, therefore, -of this chest, she clung to it, and after much tossing by the sea, was -at last thrown upon my island, and I, chancing at that time to be -walking on the shore, espied her; and she being by this time much spent -with hunger and cold, and little able to help herself, I did, so to -speak, save her from death. And she, being not a little grateful for -this same help, bestowed upon me the dowry which fortune had given her, -to wit the chest on which she had chanced, and what was far more -precious, her own self. When we had opened the chest, we found in it a -great store of treasure, and took it for our own use. But now this -damsel, Philtera, maintains that this chest is hers by right, that she -was bringing it from foreign lands that she might deliver it to her -husband, and that she suffered shipwreck by the way. Whether this be so -or no, I cannot say; but this I do maintain, that whatever by good -fortune or by the ordering of God has been brought into my hands is -verily mine, I not having in any wise contrived the same. My land he -has, and also my betrothed, though of that I take no count, but my good -luck he shall not have!” - -To this the younger of the two made this answer: “As for the two -islands, it is as my brother has said. I do not deny the truth. But as -for this chest and the treasure therein, which has been cast by the sea -upon his island, that I do affirm to belong to the Lady Philtera, my -wife, as she can prove by most certain signs and tokens, and I do claim -that it be straightway rendered up to her.” - -Sir Artegall said: “It were no hard thing to decide this matter, if you -would refer it to the judgment of some just man. Are you content so to -do?” - -“Yes,” said the two with one voice, “you shall be a judge between us, -and we will abide by the judgment that you shall give.” - -“Then lay down your swords under my feet,” said Sir Artegall, and they -laid them down. - -Then Sir Artegall, turning himself to the younger of the two brothers, -said to him: “Tell me now by what right you hold for yourself, and -withhold from your brother, the land which the sea has taken from him -and added to you?” - -“I do so,” the man made answer, “because the sea bestowed it upon me.” - -“You are in the right,” said Sir Artegall; “it is yours, keep it.” Then -turning himself to the elder, he said: “Bracidas, by what right do you -hold this treasure of which your brother and his wife affirm, and not -without reason, that it is theirs?” - -“I hold it,” said he, “because the sea bestowed it upon me.” - -“You also are in the right,” said Sir Artegall; “it is yours; keep it.” -Then, speaking to both, he thus declared his sentence: “That which the -sea has taken is his own. None who before possessed it has claim upon -it. He may bestow it as he will. The land which he took from Sir -Bracidas he gave to Sir Amidas; let it therefore remain in his hand. The -treasure which he took from Sir Amidas, or from the Lady Philtera, his -wife, he gave to Sir Bracidas; let him also keep it.” - -The matter being settled, the knight went on his way. After a while he -espied a great rout of people, and turned aside from the road that he -might discover what it might mean. When he came near he saw a great -crowd of women, in warlike array, with weapons in their hands. And in -the midst of them he saw a knight, with his hands tied tightly behind -his back, and a halter about his neck; his face was covered, but his -head was bare. It was plain that the man was about to be hanged. And, as -they went, the women reviled him in bitter words. When Sir Artegall came -near, he said: “Tell me, pray, what this may mean.” - -To this they gave no answer, but made as if they would assault him. -Then, at the knight’s bidding, Talus went among them, and with a few -strokes of his iron flail sent them flying hither and thither. Then he -took the knight, who would otherwise have been put to death, and brought -him to Sir Artegall. - -“Sir Turpine, unhappy man”—it so chanced that he knew the man—“how came -you into this evil plight? How is it that you suffered yourself to be -thus enslaved by women, who should rather be subject to men?” Sir -Turpine was sore ashamed and confounded, and could say but little in his -excuse for himself; but this was the story which he told. - -“I was desirous, as was indeed my knightly duty, to find some adventure -which would be praiseworthy in itself, and also bring me to honour. And -I heard a report that there was a proud amazon who was accustomed to -defy all the knights of Queen Gloriana. Some she had put to shame, and -some she had slain. And the cause of her rage was this. She had loved -the bold Bellodant, and when he disdained her, then her love was turned -to hatred, not towards him only, but towards all knights, to whom she -worked, as, indeed, she still works, all the mischief that she can -devise. Any whom she can subdue, either by force or fraud, she treats in -the most evil fashion. First she takes from them their arms and armour, -and then she clothes them in women’s garments, and compels them to earn -their bread by women’s work, spinning and sewing and washing and the -like. And all the food that she gives them in recompense is but bread -and water, so as to disable them from taking their revenge. And if -anyone is of so manly a mind that he sets himself against her pleasure, -him she causes to be hanged out of hand on that gibbet which you see -yonder. And in this case I stood. For when she overcame me in fight, -then she put me into that base service of which I have spoken; and when -I refused, then she sent me with that rabble of women whom you -dispersed, that I might be done to death.” - -“By what name do they call this amazon?” said Sir Artegall, “and where -does she dwell?” - -“Her name,” answered Sir Turpine, “is Radigund; a princess is she of -great power and pride, well tried in arms and skilled in battle, more -than I could have believed had I not known it by my own experience.” - -“Then,” said Sir Artegall, “by the faith which I owe to my queen, and -the knighthood which I bear, I will not rest till I have made trial of -this same amazon, and have found out for myself what she has of strength -and skill. And now, Sir Turpine, put off these unseemly clothes which -you wear, and come with me that you may see how my enterprise shall -prosper, and whether I shall avenge the cause of knighthood upon this -woman.” - -To which request Sir Turpine consented with all his heart. - - - - - CHAPTER XXX - RADIGUND - - -Radigund the amazon dwelt a mile or so from the place where the gallows -had been set up, in a city which she had called Radigone, after her own -name. On the walls of the city were set watchmen to warn the queen of -the coming of strangers. One of these espied Sir Artegall and his -company, and gave warning accordingly, saying: “I see three strangers; -one of them is a knight fully armed, and the others have a warlike -look!” Thereupon all the people ran in haste to arm themselves, like to -bees when they come forth in a swarm from their hive, and Radigund -herself, half-arrayed as a man, came forth from her palace. Meanwhile -the three drew near to the city gate, and when the porter, thinking -scorn of them because they were so few, did not trouble to open to them -the gate, they beat upon it with many blows, threatening the man also -that he should suffer much for his insolence. - -When the queen heard this she fell into a great rage and cried: “Open -the gate; these fellows shall soon know to what a city they have come!” -So the porter threw wide the gate, and the three pressed forward, -meaning to pass through. But lo! of a sudden there fell upon them such a -storm of arrows that they had perforce to halt. - -“These women,” said Sir Artegall, “are stout fighters; let us be careful -what we do.” And when they halted, the rout set upon them more fiercely -than ever. As for Queen Radigund, when she saw Sir Turpine, and knew -that he had escaped from the doom which she had decreed for him, and was -now dealing blows to her women, she was carried away with rage, and flew -at him headlong, as a lioness flings herself at an ox, and dealt him so -fierce a blow as brought him headlong to the ground. And when she saw -him lying she set her foot upon his neck, with intent to make him pay -with his life for his disparagement of her authority. So does a bear -stand over the carcase of an ox, and seem to pause awhile to hear its -piteous crying. When Sir Artegall saw what had befallen Sir Turpine, he -made all haste to help him, and dealt the queen so mighty a blow that it -reft her of her senses; nay, but that she somewhat broke its force, for -she was expert in arms, it had laid her dead upon the ground. For a -while she lay without speech or hearing; then, recovering herself, she -would have assailed him with all her might, for never before had she -endured such disgrace. But when her maidens saw it, for a great company, -armed for battle, accompanied her, they thrust themselves between; for -they deemed that she was not wholly in fit condition for fighting. Thus -were Sir Artegall and Queen Radigund perforce kept apart. As for the -rest, Talus, with his iron flail, drove them hither and thither, -breaking their bows and marring their shooting, and they fled before him -as sheep fly from a wolf. - -When evening came, Queen Radigund bade the trumpeters sound a recall, so -that the soldiers should cease fighting. All the people she made pass -back into the city; and she caused all them that were wounded to be -carried to houses where their hurts might be healed. Then Sir Artegall -caused his tent to be pitched, on the open plain, not far from the gate -of the city. There he and Sir Turpine took their ease, but Talus, as was -his custom, kept watch all the night. But Radigund was ill-content with -what had happened that day; never before had her pride been so rebuked. -She could not rest, but cast about in her mind how she could avenge -herself for the shame which had been put upon her that day, and that for -the first time in her life. After a while she made this resolve in her -mind; that she would meet the knight in single combat and make trial of -his strength, for that her people should suffer such waste and ruin as -she had seen that day was a thing not to be endured. Then she asked for -one of her maidens, Clarin by name, whom she judged to be most -trustworthy, and fit to do her errand, and said to her: “Clarin, go -quickly, and bear a message to the stranger knight, who has so -distressed us this day, saying that I will meet him to-morrow in single -combat, that we may see whether he or I be the better. Say also that -these are my conditions: If I overcome him, then he shall render me -obedience and be bound for ever to my service; and I, if he should -vanquish me, do promise to do the same. Go, therefore, taking with you -six of your fellows, arrayed as finely as may be, that they may be -witnesses of this covenant! Take with you also wine and meats, that he -may eat. Verily, if I have my will, he shall sit hungry many a day!” - -So the damsel did as she was bidden, taking with her six companions, and -meat and drink also. When she came to the gate of the city she bade the -trumpeter blow a blast for warning to the knights. And when Talus came -forth, she said that she would fain speak with his master. So being -brought with her companions into the tent, she delivered to him the -message of the queen. Sir Artegall received her right courteously, and -when she had departed—not without gifts—he betook himself to sleep. - -The next day the two adversaries made themselves ready for battle. Sir -Artegall was accoutred as knights commonly are; not so Queen Radigund. -She wore a purple cloak, embroidered with silver, with ribands of -diverse colours, nicely ordered upon it. This cloak, for easier motion, -she shortened to her thighs; but when she pleased, she could let it fall -to her heels. She had for defence of her body a cuirass of chain-mail; -buskins she had, finely embroidered with bars of gold; at her side she -had a scimitar hanging to a most gorgeous belt; her shield was finely -decked with precious stones, it was like the moon when it is at the -full. In this guise she came out of the city gate, a noble sight to see; -about her was a bodyguard of maidens, some of whom made music with -shawms and trumpets. Her people had pitched a pavilion for her, where -she might rest till the fight should begin. After this Sir Artegall came -out of his tent, fully armed, and first entered the lists. Nor did -Radigund long delay to follow him. And when the lists had been barred -against the crowd, for a great multitude of people were gathered to see -the issue of the battle, the trumpets sounded the signal, and the combat -began. - -The queen charged first in the most furious fashion, as if she would -have done her adversary to death out of hand. But he, having had much -experience in such matters, was not carried out of himself by her rage, -but was content to defend himself from her assault; the greater was her -fury, the more calmly did he bear himself. But when her strength began -to fail her, then he took the other part; even as a smith, when he finds -the metal grow soft, plies his hammer with all his might. Even so did -Sir Artegall deal blow upon blow as if she were an anvil; and the sparks -flew from her armour, and from her shield also, for with this she -guarded herself in right skilful fashion from his assault. But now -things began to go ill with her; for off this same shield the knight -with one stroke shore away a full half, so that her side for half its -length was exposed. Yet not one whit was she dismayed, but, smiting him -with her scimitar, wounded him on the thigh, making the blood flow -amain. Loud did she boast when she saw the blood, thinking that she had -wounded him to death; but he, provoked by her boasting, struck at her -with all his might, and when she put her shield to ward the blow, lo! -this was shattered altogether, and fell in pieces on the plain. Next, as -she was thus left without defence, he smote her again, this time upon -the helmet; so that she fell from her horse, and lay upon the plain, -like to one that was dead. When he saw her lying thus, he leapt from his -steed and unlaced her helmet, with intent to sever her head from her -body. But when he had unlaced her helmet, lo! her face was discovered to -him. So fair it was, even though covered with blood and sweat, that he -stood amazed; it was as when a traveller sees the face of the moon -through a foggy night. And at the sight, all the cruel purpose departed -out of his heart. So great was his pity that he threw his sword from -him, for, indeed, there is no heart so hard but that the sight of beauty -will soften it. - -As he stood thus astonished, she recovered herself from her swoon, and -saw the knight standing by her side without a weapon. Then she lifted -herself from the ground and flew upon him with all her former rage. He, -indeed, could but ward off her blows with his shield, as well as he -could. And now, being without hope, he entreated her to withhold her -hand. “Not so,” said she, “till you have yielded to me your shield in -token of submission.” Nor could he refuse so to do. He had overcome her -in fair fight, yet now was he himself overcome by his own misdoing, for -he had of his own accord given up his sword, and so lost that which he -had attained. Then she struck him on the shoulder with the flat of her -sword, in token that he was from henceforth her subject. As for the -unhappy Sir Turpine, he was indeed born under an unlucky star, for they -took him back to the place from which he had escaped, and there hanged -him shamefully by the heels. Talus they could not take, for all that -they sought to lay hands upon him. He laid about him so unmercifully -with his flail, that they were right glad to let him escape. Many did he -wound and some he slew; the rest he put into great fear. Yet he would -not seek to rescue his lord. “Nay,” said he to himself, “Sir Artegall -has yielded himself of his own accord, and I must e’en let him be.” - -Queen Radigund took the knight who had thus made himself her subject, -and despoiled him of all his arms and armour, and put upon him woman’s -clothing, with a white apron in place of a breast-plate. Having thus -arrayed him, she brought him into a great chamber, on the walls of which -were many memorials of other knights whom she had dealt with in the same -fashion. His arms and armour she caused to be hung up among these, and -his sword, lest it should work mischief to her, she broke in twain. When -he was come into this place, he saw sitting there many brave knights -whose names he knew right well, bound all of them to obey the amazon’s -law, and spinning and carding wool. This they did under constraint, for -they were bound to finish their task by the appointed time, nothing -being given them whereon to dine or sup but what they could earn by this -woman’s work. The queen set him in the lowest place of all, and put a -distaff into his hands, and bade him spin flax and tow. Truly it is the -hardest of all lots to be a woman’s slave! But he consented to her will, -saying to himself: “She vanquished me in battle, and I must abide by my -own word.” - -After a while the queen began to feel the beginning of love for the -knight. Long time she strove against it, thinking shame to be so -overcome; but finding that her passion was not to be put away, she sent -for the same Clarin, whom she had before made her messenger, and said to -her: “Clarin, you see that fairy knight, who has been made my subject, -not by my valour, but by his own honourable mind. He gave me my life, -when it was lost; why should he suffer there in this cruel bondage? Why -should I recompense him with ill for so good a deed? I would fain give -him his freedom, yet in such a fashion that in giving it to him, I may -win his free goodwill. I would loose him, and yet have him still bound -to me, not with the bonds of violence and compulsion, but of benevolence -and love. Now if you can by any means win him to such a mood, but -without discovering, mark you well, my thought, you will win a goodly -reward from him, and have me also greatly beholden to you. And now, that -you may be able to pass freely to and fro, I give you this ring as a -token to Eumenias”—this was the keeper of the knights’ prison. “Go then, -my Clarin; use to the best all thy wits, employing both enticing looks -and fair speeches.” - -So Clarin, promising that she would use her best endeavour to win Sir -Artegall to such thoughts as her lady desired, departed on her errand. -She had recourse to all the arts she knew to win his favourable regard, -and one day she said to him: “Sir Knight, you have had but an evil -fortune; you sit drowned in despair, and yet you might raise yourself, -if you were but willing, to something better.” - -He was in doubt what this speech might mean, and so made answer: “Fair -damsel, that you regard me with compassion is in itself a kindness for -which I am in your debt. But you must know that a brave heart bears with -equal courage fair weather and foul, frowns of ill fortune or smiles of -prosperity. At this moment my life is overcast with cloud, yet I hope -for sunshine to come.” - -“Yea,” answered the maiden, “and what say you if you should see an -occasion ready to your hand for entering on better things?” - -“Truly,” answered Sir Artegall, “I count him to be unworthy of good -fortune who should not promptly take such occasion, so that it come -within his reach.” - -Then said Clarin: “Why do you not set about to win your liberty by -seeking the favour of the queen? ’Tis true that she has passed her days -in war, yet she is not born of tigers or bears. She scorns the love of -men, yet she does not forget that she is herself of the kindred of man.” - -To this Sir Artegall replied: “Believe me, fair damsel, that not from -obstinacy or disdain have I neglected to seek her favour. ’Tis lack of -means that has kept me back from so doing; and if you can in any way -supply this lack, then shall I be bound to you for ever.” - -“This fish bites at the bait,” said the damsel to herself, “but it is -not yet surely caught.” But even while she spoke, she herself, foolish -maiden that she was, was caught herself. For, as a fisher who, while he -seeks for the prey, falls into the brook, so Clarin, seeking to serve -her mistress’s ends, conceived a great pity for this captive knight, and -from pity it is but a short journey to love. But her love she durst not -tell, neither to the knight, lest haply she should be disdained, nor to -anyone else, lest that by any means it should come to the knowledge of -the queen, for that she knew would mean a sure sentence of death. -Therefore she kept the matter in her heart, watching for such occasion -as might arise. - -Queen Radigund, growing impatient of the delay, bade her unfold the -truth. “How have you fared?” she said, “What is the temper of the man? -Has captivity brought him to a more humble mind?” - -“Not so,” said Clarin; “he is as stern and obstinate as ever. He scorns -all offers and conditions; he would sooner die—so he declares—than look -with any favour on those who have done him so great a wrong. This in -brief is his resolve; in truth these are his very words: ‘My body may be -thrall to the queen, but my heart is free.’” - -When she heard these words the queen fell into a mighty rage. But coming -to herself, and perceiving that anger would profit her nothing, she said -to her minister: “Clarin, what remains for us to do? It were a shame to -have laboured in vain, and still more a shame to sit down content when -this fellow flouts us in such fashion. Nevertheless, that his guilt may -be seen to be the greater, and my grace the more admirable, I will bear -with this folly of his till you shall have made another trial of him. -And you I charge to leave nothing that can be done or said to work upon -him. Leave nothing unpromised that may help to persuade him. Tell him -that he shall have life, freedom, grace, and store of gifts, for by -gifts even the hearts of gods are touched. And to these promises add all -your arts and woman’s wiles. And if your arts avail nothing, then let -him feel the weight of your hand. Diminish his victuals; maybe he is too -proudly fed; put more labour upon him, and with harder conditions; let -him lodge less softly, lying upon straw; do aught that may abate his -courage and his pride; put a chain of cold iron upon him, and deny him -all that he may desire. And when you have done all this, tell me how he -bears himself. If need be, I will deal with him, not as a lover, but as -a rebel.” - -All this Clarin heard, and made pretence to fulfil her lady’s commands. -But her mind was turned to quite another thing, that is to say, to play -her mistress false, and to gain the knight’s love for herself. To him -therefore she made as great a show of goodwill as she could, telling him -that she was making suit for him to the queen, that she should set him -at liberty, but that she could not persuade her. - -“The more I entreat her,” she said, “the sterner and the harsher she -is.” Then from the knight she would go to the queen and say: “The more -grace I show, the more haughty and unbending is he.” As for Sir -Artegall, he spoke the woman fair, but never did he depart from his -loyalty to his own fair lady. - - - - - CHAPTER XXXI - HOW SIR ARTEGALL WAS DELIVERED - - -While Sir Artegall lay thus in evil plight under the tyranny of Queen -Radigund, the Lady Britomart was in no small distress of mind. For now -the latest date that had been fixed for his return was long past, and -yet no tidings of him had come. Sometimes she thought that some mishap -had befallen him in his adventure, and sometimes that his false foe had -entrapped him, and sometimes—and this was the most grievous fear of -all—that he had bestowed his love upon another. She knew no ill of him, -nor ever had heard any; yet could she not forbear to think ill. Now she -blamed herself, and now she condemned him as being faithless and untrue. -Then again she would think to herself: “Surely I have miscounted the -time,” and she reckoned the days and weeks and months again; and, -indeed, the days were as weeks and the weeks were as months. Also she -considered within herself what she should do; should she send someone to -search for him, and yet who could go on such an errand but herself? She -could not rest in her dwelling, no place could please her; yet that -which displeased her least was a certain window which looked towards the -west, for it was from the west that Sir Artegall was due to come. It -chanced then that as she sat at this same window on a certain day she -saw someone approaching at full speed. No sooner did she see him, though -she could not discern his face, than she said to herself, “This is -someone from my love.” And truly, when he came nearer, she perceived -that it was Sir Artegall’s groom Talus. The sight filled her heart both -with hopes and with fears; nor could she stay in her place, but ran -forth to meet him, crying, “Where is your lord? Is he far from here? Has -he lost or has he won?” - -Talus, albeit he was made of iron, and was without feeling of pain and -sorrow, yet was conscious within himself that his news was ill, and -stood silent as if he would rather that she should discern his tidings -than that he should declare them. Then she said: “Take courage, Talus; -tell me what you have to tell, be it good or be it bad.” - -Then he answered: “If I must tell my evil tidings, so be it. My lord -lies in wretched bondage.” - -“How came that to pass?” said Britomart; “did the tyrant, his enemy, -vanquish him?” - -“Not so,” quoth Talus, “no tyrant man did vanquish him, but a tyrant -woman.” Great was the rage of Britomart when she heard these words. - -“And you are not ashamed, evil newsmonger, to come here with such -tidings of your lord’s disgrace?” And she turned her back upon him, -seeking her own chamber; and there with much self-torturing she spent -many weary hours. - -The next day she sought out Talus again, and being now in a milder mood, -she said: “Tell me now plainly how came Sir Artegall into this -captivity. Does he woo this tyrant lady?” - -“Ah! madam!” answered Talus, “he is in no state to woo; he lies in -thraldom, weak and wan; and yet, for the truth must be told, it was by -his own doing that he came into this state.” - -Then Britomart’s anger was kindled again. “Are you not leagued together -to deceive me? You say that he came into this bondage of his own accord; -is he not then false?” - -Then Talus unfolded the whole story of how Sir Artegall fought, and how -he was vanquished, not by the strength of his adversary, but by his own -compassion. When Britomart heard this same story, she was, so to speak, -torn asunder by anger and grief, nor would anything content her but that -she must straightway put on her armour, mount her horse, and ride forth -to deliver Sir Artegall, Talus being her guide. After they had ridden -for a space they came upon a knight who was riding slowly across the -plain, a man well stricken in years, and of a very modest and peaceable -bearing. He saluted Britomart right courteously, and she, though in her -sad mood she would sooner have remained without speech, answered him -pleasantly. Then he began to talk of many things, and she, though wholly -occupied in her mind with one matter, to wit, the deliverance of Sir -Artegall from his prison, made such replies as were suitable. After some -converse he said: “Friend, night is about to fall, and there are tokens -of rain in the heavens; will you not lodge with me at my house?” And -Britomart, seeing that the day was far spent, consented. - -They rode therefore to the knight’s dwelling, which was, indeed, hard -by. There he most hospitably entertained them, both with good cheer and -pleasant conversation. When the hour of rest came, Britomart was -conducted to the bower where she should sleep. There she found grooms -who offered to undress her, but she would not doff her arms for all her -host’s entreaties. “Nay,” she said, “I have vowed a vow that I will not -take off these arms till I have taken vengeance for a great wrong that -has been done to me.” - -When she made this answer, it might have been perceived that her host -was somewhat troubled. Nevertheless he took his leave right courteously, -and departed. Britomart watched all the night; if sleep seemed about to -settle for a moment on her eyes, she shook it off with a right resolute -will. And Talus watched also; outside her door did he lie in no small -trouble of mind, as a dog that keeps guard over his master’s chamber. So -night passed, but about the dawn, when the cock commonly crows for the -first time, Britomart perceived that the bed in her chamber began to -sink through the floor, and that after awhile it was raised again. And -while she waited to see what this might mean, though indeed it was clear -that it meant treachery of some sort, there came two knights to her -chamber door, with a rabble rout of followers after them. But these came -on a vain errand. Talus, having his iron flail ready to his hand, laid -about him with a right goodwill. They fled before him, both knights and -the rabble also. Some he struck to the ground as they fled, and others -as they strove to hide themselves in dark corners of the house. - -Now the true story of the matter is this. This knight, who seemed so -gentle and courteous, was one Dolon, a man of great cunning and of an -evil mind. He had been a knight in his youth, yet had achieved no -honour; only by his craft he had undone many men who were better than -himself. Three sons he had, of the same temper as himself, full of fraud -and guile. One of these, the eldest in birth, Guizor by name, had been -slain by Sir Artegall in battle, not without his deserving, for he had -sought to compass some treachery. And now this Dolon would have taken -vengeance for this injury. Britomart he took for Sir Artegall, chiefly -by reason of the page Talus, with the iron flail, whom he had seen in -his company. The next day, so soon as it was light, Britomart departed. -And when the two knights would have stayed her going, and this on the -bridge where Artegall had fought Pollenté, she vanquished them. And one -she caught up in her arms, and carrying him to the bridge end, cast him -into the water, where he perished miserably. - -After journeying awhile, Britomart, with Talus her guide, came to the -city of Queen Radigund. The queen, when she was advised of her coming, -was greatly rejoiced, for she had not had the great joy of battle for -many days, and it always pleased her greatly to have experience of a new -adversary. She commanded that a pavilion should be set up outside the -city gate for the new-comer. There Britomart rested that night, Talus -keeping watch, as was his wont, at the door. The townsfolk also kept -watch upon the walls. At sunrise the queen caused a trumpet to be blown -to warn the stranger that the hour of battle was come. Such warning -Britomart needed not, for she had slept but ill, so troubled was she in -heart with jealousy and anger. Then the two made ready for the combat. -But first the queen would have her adversary bind herself to perpetual -service if the fortune of the day should go against her. - -But Britomart cried: “I will have no such conditions, no terms will I -accept but such as are prescribed by the laws of chivalry!” Then the -trumpets sounded again, and the two ran at each other with great fury. -It seemed to them who looked on that both the one and the other had -forgotten all their skill in arms, so possessed were they with rage. -They sought not to ward off blows, but only to strike. And, indeed, none -could have said who struck the harder. - -At last Radigund, thinking that she had her adversary at a disadvantage, -dealt her a blow with all her might, saying at the same time: “You love -this man; here then is a token of your love, which you may show him; for -what could be a surer proof than to die for him?” - -But Britomart answered: “Have done with idle words about my love,” and -though she was sorely wounded by the stroke, for the blade, breaking -through the shoulder-plate of her armour, bit to the bone, she gave in -return even more than she had received. The sharpness of the pain gave a -new force to her arm, and she struck the queen so fierce a blow on the -head that it broke through her helmet and laid her senseless on the -ground. Nor did Britomart wait for her adversary to recover herself; -but, urged by injured love and pride, and the fresh smarting of her -wound, with one blow cleft both helmet and head. When her guards -perceived this dreadful sight, they fled headlong to the city, but did -not so escape, for Talus, taking up his flail, entered at the gate along -with the rout of fugitives, and dealt death in every direction. Small -need had they, I ween, of a physician on whom one of his strokes had -lighted. Verily he had destroyed them all, but that the heart of -Britomart was moved to see such great slaughter. - -“Hold your hand,” she cried; “it is enough!” Then she commanded that -someone should lead her to the prison where Sir Artegall was kept in -bonds. Much was she moved to see these knights in their womanish attire, -plying distaff and spindle. But when she espied Sir Artegall himself, -and saw how pale and wan and wasted he was, her heart was well-nigh -broken in her breast. Bitterly did she repent of her unkind suspicions: -this was no lover of women whom she saw before her in so sad a plight! - -Then she bade take him to a chamber where he might put off these -uncomely garments, and put on the apparel that belonged to a knight, and -take again his arms and armour, of which there was a great store in the -place. Not a little rejoiced was she when she saw how he became again -like to the knight whom she had seen long since in the magic mirror. - -For a while they tarried in the city, for he needed to rest, and she had -wounds which it was well to heal. And she, being now queen of the land -in the place of the dead Radigund, wholly changed the form of the -commonwealth. She did away with this same monstrous rule of women, and -ordered all things according to the ordering of nature, and showed such -justice and wisdom that the people gladly made submission to her -government. The knights whom she found in the prison-house she set free, -and made them rulers in the city, having first caused them to take an -oath to be loyal to Sir Artegall. There was but one thing that troubled -her: to wit, that her lover must now proceed on the errand to which he -was bound. - -This he did in not many days’ time, Talus travelling with him as before. -After a while they saw a damsel on a palfrey, flying as fast as she -could, and two knights pursuing her also at their utmost speed; they saw -also how another knight was riding after these two. Each was intent on -his own business, the two knights on chasing the damsel, the single -knight on chasing the two, the damsel seeking if, by any means, she -could escape. But when she saw Sir Artegall, being at her wits’ end, she -turned her course towards him, hoping that he might give her help. The -foremost of her pursuers—pagan knights both of them—continued his -course, and with his spear in rest charged Sir Artegall. But there he -had met more than his match; the Christian was both stronger and more -skilful in arms, and drove him out of the saddle full two spears’ -length, and it so chanced that in falling he lighted on his head, and so -was killed outright. - -Meanwhile his companion had fared as ill, for the single knight -overtaking him, had compelled him to stand and do battle, in which -battle he was defeated and slain. This done, he still followed, and -taking Sir Artegall for the other pagan, charged him at full tilt. They -met with a great crash, and both their spears were broken, and though -neither was driven from his saddle, yet they tottered as two towers -which an earthquake makes to rock. But when they drew their swords to -renew the combat, the damsel, seeing that her two friends were like to -come to as ill an end as had her two foes, ran up, crying out: “Oh, -sirs, stay your hands till I shall tell you how the matter stands. ’Tis -I that have been wronged, and you have brought me help, slaying these -two pagans who were pursuing me. These lie dead upon the ground; what -quarrel have you against each other? If there be still any wrongdoer or -cause of trouble, truly it is I.” - -When the two heard these words, they held their hands, and, lifting up -the visors of their helmets, looked each in the other’s face. And when -Sir Artegall saw the last comer, who was no other than Prince Arthur, he -was sure that he was a very noble knight, and said: “Pardon me, fair -sir, that I have erred in lifting my hand against you. I will make what -amends you will.” - -“Talk not of amends,” answered the prince; “I was in equal error, taking -you for this dead pagan.” So they swore friendship, and made a covenant -of mutual help. - -Then said Sir Artegall, “Tell me, sir, who were these knights that have -come by this bad end?” - -“That I know not,” answered the prince, “but know that this damsel was -in distress, and that I sought to succour her. But doubtless she herself -will unfold the whole matter to us.” - -Then the damsel told her story. “Know, sirs,” she said, “that I serve a -maiden queen of these parts, Mercilla by name, a lady known far and -wide, and envied also, for her prosperity and her goodness. Enemies she -has, and chief among these is a pagan prince, who is bent on -overthrowing her kingdom, yea, verily, and on slaying her sacred self. -To this wickedness he is stirred up by his evil wife, Adikia[2] by name. -’Tis she who, trusting in her power, moves him to all kinds of wrong. -Now my liege lady, being desirous of peace, and willing for sake of it -to give up something of her just right, sent me to make a treaty with -this same Adikia, so that there might be quietness in the land. Now, as -you know, it has been a custom of all time that such messengers have -liberty to come and go without hindrance or harm. But this evil woman, -without any offence given on my part, broke forth in railing upon me, -and not only this, but thrust me from her door as if I were a dog. Yea, -and when I had departed, she sent these two knights after me to take me -prisoner. To you, therefore, for myself and for the queen, whose -messenger I am, I render you most hearty thanks.” - -When they had heard the damsel’s story, the two knights, Sir Artegall -and Prince Arthur, counselled together what should be done in this -matter. Of which consultation the conclusion was that they should punish -those who were guilty of this wrongdoing, that is to say the sultan and -his wife and the knights who lent themselves to do their evil will. -Further, they concluded to carry out this purpose in the way now to be -described. Sir Artegall should disguise himself in the accoutrements of -one of the dead pagan knights, and should take with him the damsel to -the sultan’s court, making as though she was his prisoner. - -Sir Artegall therefore having donned the armour of one of the two -knights, took the damsel with him, as being a prisoner, and so came to -the sultan’s court. And the sultan’s wife, who chanced to be looking -from the window, saw them, and did not doubt but that her errand had -been performed, and sent a page who would show the knight what he should -do. The page therefore brought them to the place appointed, but when he -would have eased Sir Artegall of his armour, the knight refused, for he -feared to be discovered. - -Meanwhile Prince Arthur, coming to the gate of the city, sent to the -sultan this message: “I demand that there be delivered to me the Lady -Samient”—this was the damsel’s name—“being the ambassador of Queen -Mercilla, whom you wrongfully detain in custody.” - -When the sultan heard this message, he was filled with anger, and -commanded that his armour should be brought. This he straightway put on, -and mounted his chariot. This same was armed in dreadful fashion with -iron hooks and scythes, and was drawn by savage horses, whom he was wont -to feed on the flesh of men. The poor wretches whom in his cruelty he -slew, he was wont to give when they were but half dead to these beasts. -In this guise he came forth from the city gates, where he found Prince -Arthur awaiting him, mounted on his steed, with Talus standing at his -stirrup. - -The sultan drove straight at his adversary, thinking to overthrow him by -the rush of his chariot, and that his horses would trample him in the -dust. But the prince perceiving his design, withdrew himself a pace, and -so escaped the danger. Nor was he hurt by the dart which the sultan cast -at him as he passed; this also he avoided, and it was well that he did -so, else of a certainty it had pierced either him or his horse from side -to side. But when Prince Arthur sought to approach the sultan, the -horses carried the chariot out of his reach, so swift of foot were they. -On the other hand, the sultan, having a store of darts ready to his hand -in the chariot, cast them at the prince, and with one of them pierced -the prince’s cuirass, and made a grievous wound in his side. So did the -combat rage between these two, the prince being at this disadvantage -also, that his horse could not endure the look of the sultan’s horses, -so fierce and fiery of aspect were they. At the last, finding that all -other means were of no avail, he drew the covering from his shield—a -thing which he was not wont to do save in the last extremity—and held it -so that the light shining from it fell full on the eyes of the sultan’s -horses. As a flash of lightning did it fall upon them, and they -straightway turned and fled. Nor could the sultan stay their flight. The -reins were of no avail; they heeded them not; and when he called to -them, they would not hear. Over hill and dale they carried him, he -vainly dragging at the reins, and cursing aloud; while the chariot, -swaying from side to side, tossed him to and fro. Still the prince -followed close behind, but still found no opportunity to strike. Nor, -indeed, had he need, for coming to some rocky ground, the horses overset -the chariot, and the sultan was torn in pieces by his own contrivance of -scythes and hooks. Then the prince took up his shield and armour from -where they lay, sorely bent and broken, upon the ground. These he -carried back to the city, and hanged them on a tree before the palace -door. When the wicked wife saw what had happened, she ran down from her -chamber like to one mad, saying to herself, “I will be avenged on that -damsel who has brought upon me all this trouble.” And she ran, knife in -hand, to the place where she had been put. But Sir Artegall stayed her -hand. And she, being made yet more furious, ran forth into the woods, -and there abode, in the form—so some men said—of a tigress. Sir Artegall -meanwhile vanquished the sultan’s knights, and established a new order -in the city. - - - - - CHAPTER XXXII - OF THE KNAVE MALENGIN - - -The two knights delivered the city, when they had ordered it anew, to -the Lady Samient, to hold for Queen Mercilla. This done, they would have -departed on their own business, but Samient was not content that they -should depart without seeing the queen, and this, overborne by her -entreaties, they consented to do. As they journeyed, the damsel said to -them: “There abides in this region a very sturdy villain, who is wont to -rob all the country round about; and carries the spoil to a rock which -he makes his dwelling, and to this place no man can get, so hard of -access is it. Also he is marvellously light of hand and nimble of foot, -smooth of face, and so subtle in his talk that he can deceive well-nigh -anyone.” - -When the two knights heard this tale, they desired with one accord that -the damsel should take them to the place where this villain abode. - -“That would I willingly do,” said she, “only that the going thither -would hinder your journey to Queen Mercilla.” - -“Let not that stay you,” said the prince, and Sir Artegall gave also his -consent. - -So they travelled onwards together. After a while the damsel said to the -knights: “We are close to the place!” Then Sir Artegall and Prince -Arthur consulted together what was best to be done. They agreed that the -damsel should sit by the robber’s cave, and raise a great uproar, and -that when he should come to see what was the cause of the disturbance, -they should set upon him, and hinder his return. So the Lady Samient -went to the cave, and there threw herself upon the ground, and then made -a great uproar, with much wailing and many cries of grief. When the -villain heard it he came forth from his den, thinking that something had -come in his way. A dreadful creature he was to see, with hollow eyes, -and long curling hair which fell over his shoulders, and a most uncouth -and ragged garment. In his hand he carried a long staff with iron hooks -at the end of it, and on his back he bore a wide net. This he used, not -for fishing in the brook, but to catch such prey as he desired on the -dry land, taking them unawares. - -When the damsel saw this strange creature standing close by her she was -not a little dismayed, and cried out for help in good earnest. But he, -with guileful words, would have persuaded her that she had nothing to -fear; and then, while she listened, as she could scarce refrain from -doing, suddenly he threw his net about her, and lifting her from the -ground ran with her to his cave. But when, as he came near to the cave -mouth, he saw the two knights barring the way, he threw down on the -ground his net with its burden, and fled away: like to a wild goat did -he leap from rock to rock, and he ran along the cliff-side without fear, -into places where Sir Artegall, for all his courage, durst not follow -him. So the knight sent his iron man, Talus, to follow him. And when the -knave saw that the new-comer was not less swift of foot than he was -himself, and did not grow weary or scant of breath, then he left running -on the hills and came down again to the plain. And here he had recourse -to a new device, changing himself into various shapes. First he made -himself into a fox, but Talus was not slow to hunt him as a fox is -hunted; then into a bush, but the iron man beat the bush with his flail; -and from the bush he made himself into a bird, but Talus threw stones at -the bird, and with so sure an aim that he soon brought it to the ground, -as if it had been itself a stone. This Talus took from the ground and -brought it to the knights, and gave it to Sir Artegall, saying at the -same time: “Take it, Sir Knight, but beware! Hold it fast!” And lo! even -while he held it fast, it was changed into a hedgehog, and pricked the -knight’s hand so sorely that he threw it away. And the villain returned -to his own shape and would have fled. But when Talus perceived it, he -followed and overtook him and led him back. Then did he change himself -into a snake; but this Talus struck so heavily with his iron flail that -he broke all his bones, and left him dead for the fowls of the air to -devour. - -After this they came to the palace of Queen Mercilla, as fair and noble -a palace as was ever seen upon the earth. The porch stood open day and -night, so that all comers might enter in. But a warder of giant form sat -there, to keep from entering all that harboured guile or malice, and -such as with flattery and dissembling work such harm in the courts of -kings. The warder’s name was Awe. Such as were permitted to pass in were -marshalled in the hall by another warder, whose name was Order. There -they saw many noteworthy things, and chief of all the Queen Mercilla -herself, where she sat on her throne, with a sceptre in her hand, a -pledge of peace and clemency. And under her feet lay a great lion, very -fierce of nature, but wholly tamed in that presence. So then the two did -obeisance, and stood aside while the queen judged affairs of state, and -ministered justice and equity to her people. Of all these affairs the -chiefest was the trial of a great lady who stood before the throne, most -fair and royally arrayed. Many accusations were brought against this -lady, the prosecutor being one Zeal. Nor could this be wondered at, for -this great lady was no other than the false Duessa. It was surely proved -against her that she had deceived knights, and brought them to shame, -and even to death; also that she had wrought upon two vain knights, -Blandamour and Paridell, to devise hostility against Queen Mercilla -herself. Sir Artegall was so moved by these accusations that, being a -lover of justice, he was firm in taking the contrary part against her. -Prince Arthur, on the other hand, was not a little touched by the -pleadings on her behalf. When all had been heard on either side, Queen -Mercilla gave judgment, and although Duessa’s guilt was clear beyond all -doubt, yet she, being true to name and nature, did not adjudge the -extreme penalty of death, but ordered that she should be so kept as not -to do any mischief more. - - - - - CHAPTER XXXIII - OF THE LADY BELGÉ - - -While the two knights tarried at the court of Queen Mercilla, being -entertained by her in the most liberal fashion, there came two youths -from a foreign land, praying for help for their mother, the Lady Belgé. -It was a piteous story that they told before the Queen Mercilla and all -the knights and ladies of her court. The Lady Belgé had been in former -days among the most fortunate of women. She had to husband a most worthy -and noble prince, of wide dominions and great wealth; she had also a -very fair progeny, even seventeen sons, fair children, and of great -promise. Anyone who saw them in those days would surely have said that -not Niobé herself, before she moved the wrath of Apollo and Diana, was -more blessed in her progeny. Now the beginning of troubles to this -honourable lady was that her husband died in his prime, before any of -his children had come to such an age that they could fill his place. And -because the times were ill-suited to a woman’s rule, she was constrained -to look for someone who should give her help and protection. Now there -was in those parts a monstrous creature, Geryoneo by name, son of that -Geryon who was slain by Hercules. He was terrible to look upon, and -marvellously strong, for he had three bodies joined in one, the legs and -arms of three men, as it were, to help him in the fighting. He, feigning -himself to be just and kind, proffered his service to the Lady Belgé -while she was yet in the first trouble of her widowhood, undertaking to -defend her against all enemies both from within and from without. This -proffer she gladly accepted, and he, for a time, kept the promise which -he had made well and loyally. But having established himself in the -country, and Belgé having given into his hands all the power, he began -to bear himself most cruelly. Many wrongs did he do to this most unhappy -lady, but of all the wrongs the worst was this, that he took of her -children, one after another, to offer up in sacrifice to a horrible idol -which he had made of his father Geryon. Twelve had he taken, one by one, -so that now there were left to the unhappy mother but five only. And -now, all other hope having been lost, she bethought her of the gracious -Queen Mercilla, and sent her two eldest sons to entreat her help. - -When they had told their story there was for a while silence in the -court, no one caring to take this adventure upon himself. And when -Prince Arthur saw that no one offered himself, he stood forth and said: -“Grant me leave, gracious queen, to succour this distressed lady!” - -“Readily do I grant it,” said the queen. Thereupon he began straightway -to prepare himself for his journey, for he would not lose time; even on -the morrow would he start on this adventure. And so it was. So soon as -the next morning came the prince set forth, not without gifts from the -queen. Sir Artegall he left to follow his own business, but the two -young sons of the Lady Belgé went with him, guiding him on his way. - -It was but a short journey to the place where the Lady Belgé dwelt. The -tyrant had shut her out from the cities of her land, and from all the -pleasant spots; she had her abode in the midst of marshes and fens, and -was glad to find shelter in them from the cruelty of her oppressor. In -such a dismal region did Prince Arthur find her, living quite alone, for -her children had left her, seeking safety elsewhere. And she herself, -when she caught sight of a man clad in armour, made ready to fly. But -then, spying her own two sons, she took heart, and looked up joyfully, -for she knew that the stranger was come to give her help. Then she threw -her arms round the necks of the two lads as they knelt before her, -crying, “Oh, my sweet boys, now I seem to live again, so joyful a thing -is it to see you! Surely the sun shines brighter than its wont, thanks -to your coming and to the presence of this noble knight.” Then turning -to Prince Arthur she said: “Noble sir, who have taken all this trouble -to help a miserable woman, may heaven reward you for your goodness. -Reward have I none to give, for all that is left to me is bare life, and -that life so full of misery that it is more like to a lingering death!” - -The prince was not a little moved at these sorrowful words, and sought -to comfort her. “Take heart, dear lady,” he said, “for help is at hand, -and these, your troubles, will have an end. But now come with me, and -find some spot where you may more conveniently dwell than in this -miserable place.” - -“Ah sir,” she answered, “to what place shall I go? The enemy dwells in -my palaces, my cities are sacked, my towers are levelled with the -ground, and what were abodes of men are fields where the wild flowers -grow. Only these marshes, the abode of efts and frogs, are left to me.” - -“Nay, good lady,” answered the prince, “think better things than these. -We will find some place to harbour us. And if it yield not itself -willingly, then will we compel it; for all that your adversary may do, -we will purchase it with spear and shield; and if not, then the open -field shall give us welcome; earth has a lodging for all its creatures.” -With such words did the prince encourage her, so that she made ready to -go with him. - -They set out therefore and came to a city which once had been the Lady -Belgé’s own, but had been taken from her by her enemy. He had pulled -down its stately towers, closed its harbour, marred the trade of its -merchants, and brought its people to poverty. And he had built a great -fort from which he dominated the place. For a while the city had -resisted his tyranny, but had now submitted itself to him, so purchasing -life, but losing all else that is worth the having. Many things did it -suffer from his tyranny, but of all that it endured the worst was this, -that it was compelled to offer sacrifices of human life to a hideous -idol which the tyrant had set up in a chapel which he had built and -adorned with costliest fittings of gold and ivory. In this city he had -put a strong garrison, and in command of this garrison he had set a -seneschal, a very stalwart knight, who had vanquished hitherto all the -knights that had ventured to come against him. He had vanquished them, -and when he had them in his power he had dealt with them in the most -shameful fashion. - -[Illustration: Prince Arthur slaying the Seneschal.] - -When the Lady Belgé knew the place, she said to the prince, “Oh, sir, -beware what you venture; very many knights have been undone at this -place.” To this warning he paid no heed, but riding up to the wall of -the city, called to the watchmen, “I challenge to single combat the -seneschal of this fortress.” Nor did the man delay to come, but donning -his armour, rode forth from the city gate. The two combatants met in -full tilt in the open field, charging each the other with his spear full -upon the shield. But the spear of the seneschal made no way, of so pure -and well-refined a metal was the prince’s shield. Broken was it into -pieces without number. But the spear of the prince passed through the -pagan’s cuirass, and made a deep wound in his body, so that he fell from -his horse to the ground. There the prince left him to lie, for he was -dead almost before he touched the ground, and rode straight to the -fortress seeking entrance. But as he rode he spied three knights -advancing towards him at the top speed of their horses. All three -charged him at once, all aiming their spears at one place in his armour. -But the prince did not swerve from his straight seat in his saddle, no, -not by a hair’s-breadth. Firm as a tower he sat, and with his spear he -smote that one of the three who had the middle place. Nor was his -smiting in vain, for he drove the spear through the shield and through -the side of the man, so that he fell dead straight-way on his -mother-earth. When his fellows saw how easily he had been overcome, they -fled away as fast as their steeds could carry them. But the prince -followed yet faster, and overtook them hard by the city gate. There, as -they hasted to enter, one hindered the other, and the prince slew the -hindmost. The third, striving to shut the gate in his adversary’s face, -was hindered by the carcase of his companion, for it lay in the way. So -he fled into the hall which stood at the entering in of the gate, hoping -so to save himself, but the prince following hard after him, slew him -there. When they that were left of the garrison saw how it had gone with -these three, they were sore afraid, and fled in great terror, escaping -by a postern door. When the prince found no more to oppose him, he -returned to the Lady Belgé, and brought her into the city, her two sons -being with her. Many thanks did she render for the good service which he -had done her. - -When the tidings of what had befallen the seneschal and his knights came -to the sultan, he was carried out of himself with rage. Nevertheless -there was something of fear mingled with his rage, for his conscience -smote him with the thought that the recompense of his evil deeds was at -hand. Nevertheless he comforted himself with this: “There is but one of -them, and he cannot always prevail.” Therefore he armed himself: also he -took with him all the followers that he had, and marched to the gate of -the city, and there demanded entrance, saying, “Yield me up this place -straightway, for it is my own.” - -To this summons the prince made no answer, but rode forth through the -gate, ready armed for battle. And being on the farther side he said, -“Are you he that has done all this wrong to the noble Lady Belgé, -exiling her from her own land in such fashion that all the world cries -shame on you?” - -The tyrant answered, “I stand on my own right; what I have done, that -will I justify!” So saying he ran furiously at the prince, beating upon -his armour with a great battle-axe as if he would have chopped it in -pieces. So fierce was his onset that the prince was constrained to give -place awhile. So heavy were his strokes, one had thought they would have -riven a rock asunder. Also he had the advantage of his threefold form. -Three pairs of hands he had, and he could shift his weapon from one to -the other as occasion served. So crafty was he and so nimble, that an -adversary scarce could know where and when he should defend himself. But -the prince was his match and more. Ever he watched the motion of his -hands, and parried the blow wherever it might fall. And the tyrant, -being thus baffled again and again, roared for very rage, till, at the -last, gathering up all the strength of the three bodies into one stroke, -he thought to fell his adversary to the ground. What had happened had -the stroke come upon the man none can say, but it lighted on the horse -and brought him to the ground. So now the prince was constrained to -fight on foot, and the giant laughed aloud to think that he had him at a -disadvantage. But the fortune of the fight went not so. Now this arm and -now that did the prince shear away with his good sword, and he himself -was sheltered safe under his shield; so faultless was its temper, that -no blow could shatter it. And ever the giant was more and more carried -away by his rage, till, at the last, offering his whole side to the -attack of the prince, he was brought to the ground a corpse, nay, three -corpses, for all were smitten to death by the one stroke, and lay a -bloody heap upon the plain. - -All this while the Lady Belgé watched the fortunes of the fight from the -city wall, with her two sons standing on either hand. And when she saw -the issue she hastened to greet him; the people of the city also, who -had waited to see to whom the victory should fall, hastened to do him -homage. Right glad were they to be rid of the giant’s tyranny. - -When the Lady Belgé had rendered the prince her thanks, which he -received with due modesty—“’Tis not the strength nor courage of the -doer,” said he, “but the justice of his deed that should be looked -to”—she said: “O noble sir, you have freed me from my chief foe; -nevertheless there remains yet something to be done. I pray you not to -stay your victorious arms till you have rooted out all that remains of -this vile brood, and established my peace for ever.” - -“Tell me, lady,” he answered, “what is this that remains?” - -“Sir,” she answered, “in this temple hard by there is, as you have -heard, a monstrous idol which this tyrant set up, and to which he -offered up sacrifices, taking, alas! of my dear children, and many -children also of this people. Now in a cavern underneath this idol there -lies a most hideous monster, which is wont to feed upon the flesh of -these sacrifices. No man, they say, has ever looked upon its shape, so -fearful is it, and lived.” - -When the prince heard this he was occupied with a great desire to deal -with this same monster, and demanded that the queen should show him the -place where it abode. “It is beneath the altar,” said she; and he -uncovered his shield, for the need was such as to demand the help. The -idol he saw, but not the monster. Then he took his sword, and with the -naked blade he struck three times, as if in defiance, and at the third -time the monster came from out its hiding-place. Hideous it was to see, -huge of size, as long, it seemed, as the whole chapel, with the face of -a woman and the body of a dog; its claws were like to lion’s claws; it -had a tail with a deadly sting, and eagle’s wings. Nevertheless, for all -its strength, it was dismayed to see the knight, and especially the -burning brightness of his shield. It would have fled again to its -hiding-place, but that the prince would not suffer. Seeing, then, that -it had to fight, the monster flew at the prince’s shield, and caught it -with its claws, purposing either to break it, or, if that might not be, -to wrench it out of his hands. Long did they struggle together, but at -the last the prince, with a stroke of his sword, shore off the monster’s -claws. Exceeding loud was the bellowing which it made, seeming to make -the whole chapel rock to its foundations. Next it struck at the prince -with its great tail, and well-nigh brought him to the ground; but before -it could strike a second blow, he had severed the last joint with his -sword. Last of all, it raised itself on its great wings and flew at his -head; doubtless it had hurt him sore but that he held his shield -between. While he so warded off the attack, he struck full at the -monster’s belly, and so did it to death. - -Great was the rejoicing in the city when the people knew that the -creature which had oppressed them so long was slain. They crowned the -prince with bays, and led him through the streets with solemn pomp. -After this he tarried awhile in the city, establishing Queen Belgé on -her throne, and setting all things in due order, till the time came when -he had to depart for the completing of his task. - - - - - CHAPTER XXXIV - OF SIR ARTEGALL AND GRANTORTO - - -While these things were doing, Sir Artegall set forth to accomplish his -task, having Talus with him as before. After he had journeyed awhile, he -overtook an old man who was travelling alone, and perceived that he was -the same that had attended the Lady Irene when she came to the court of -Queen Gloriana. He had been a famous knight in his day, but had long -since foregone the use of arms, being stricken with age. - -“Hail, Sir Sergis,” he cried, “there lives no truer knight, I know; but -tell me, what is your errand? How fares the Lady Irene? How comes it -that you have left her? Is she in prison? Does she yet live?” - -“She lives,” answered the old knight, “but she is in sore trouble. -Trusting to your promise that you would come to be her champion, and do -battle with him who was oppressing her, she came at the appointed time, -but found you not. And now Grantorto has thrown her into prison, and has -appointed her a day, saying that if by that time no champion shall -appear to justify her and prove her clear of the crimes of which she is -accused, she shall suffer death.” - -Sir Artegall was sorely troubled to hear these words, knowing that she -suffered these things through his default. “Verily,” he said, “I am to -blame for this fair maiden’s trouble, in that I was not present to -maintain her cause; but, as you know, I was not wholly to blame for that -which hindered me. But tell me, how many days has the tyrant allowed for -the finding of this champion?” - -“Ten days he has given,” answered the old knight, “but he knows that -’tis only a form, for he guards all the coasts and approaches by which -such a champion might come. Indeed, he counts her to be already dead.” - -“Turn again, dear knight,” said Sir Artegall; “surely, if I live, she -shall have the champion whom she needs within the appointed time!” So -they two went on together. - -As they rode they were aware of a great rout of people who seemed to be -looking on at some affray. Coming nearer, they perceived a number of -rude fellows setting on a single knight, and chasing him to and fro as -if they would make him prisoner. And he, on the other hand, sought to -make his way to a lady who might be seen in another part of the field, -holding up her hands and praying for help. Wheresoever he turned they -gave way before him, yet ever returned and renewed their attack, and, so -great were their numbers, pressed him sorely. So harassed was he with -their assailing, that he threw away his shield, a most dishonourable -thing for any knight to do, and one that marks him with shame without -end. When Sir Artegall saw in what an evil plight the man stood, he rode -forward to his help, yet he was himself so rudely assailed that he was -constrained to give place for a while. But when Talus began to use his -iron flail, then the multitude fled for their lives, being scattered as -the wind scatters the chaff on a threshing-floor. When the knight had -given thanks for his deliverance, Sir Artegall said to him: - -“What is the occasion of this uproar? Who are you, and who are these -villains that attacked you so furiously?” - -The knight answered: “My name is Burbon; I have won honour as a knight, -and have been in good repute till of late trouble has overtaken me. This -lady is by name Fleur de Lys; my love she is, though of late she has -scorned me; I know not whether by her own choice or by constraint of -others. It cannot be denied that she was once betrothed to me of her own -free choice; but a certain tyrant, whom men call Grantorto, won her by -gifts and lying words. This host of villains he sent to take her away -from me by open force.” - -Then said Sir Artegall: “I see, Sir Knight, that you have suffered -grievous things, yet not without fault of your own. But let us first rid -you of these villains. That done, we can make a settlement of other -matters.” - -This then they did, Talus greatly helping with his flail. But when they -came to the lady, who had been left by them who had taken her prisoner, -they were in no little doubt in what mind she was, for she seemed to be -neither glad nor sorry. One thing was certain, to wit, that she was -wondrous fair and clad in splendid robes. When Sir Burbon, lighting from -his horse, ran to her and would have clasped her in his arms, she turned -from him in high disdain. “Begone,” she cried, “and touch me not.” Then -said Sir Artegall: “Fair lady, you cast a very great blemish on your -beauty, if you change a plighted faith. Is there aught on earth so dear -and so precious as faith and honour? Love surely is dearer than life, -and fame is more to be desired than gold; but a plighted troth is more -to be honoured than even love or fame.” At this rebuke the lady seemed -much abashed, and Sir Burbon, lifting her in his arms, set her on her -steed, nor did she repulse him. So they rode away, but whether wholly -agreed or not, no one can say. - -These matters being accomplished, Sir Artegall with Sir Sergis pursued -his journey till they came to the seashore. There by good fortune they -found a ship ready equipped for sailing. This they hired, that it should -take them whither they would, and embarking in it, found wind and -weather serve them so well that in a single day they came to the land -which they sought. There they saw drawn up on the shore great hosts of -men who should hinder them from landing. But they did not for this -forego their purpose. So soon as they approached so near to the shore -that they could see the bottom beneath the waves, Talus leapt from the -ship into the sea. The enemy sought to overwhelm him with stones and -darts, but he heeded them not at all. Wading through the waves he came -to the shore, and once having put his foot upon the land, chased all the -multitude away, even as an eagle chases a flock of doves. The way being -thus made clear, for there was now no one to hinder them, Sir Artegall -and the old knight landed, and made their way to a city that was hard -by. The tyrant Grantorto, being made aware of their coming by some of -those that had fled from Talus, gathered a host of men and came against -them. But these also did Talus discomfit with his flail, pursuing them -till Artegall himself bade him hold his hand, for he would settle the -quarrel in more orderly fashion. Therefore he called a herald and bade -him take a message to King Grantorto to this purport: - -“I came not hither to fight against your people, but to maintain the -cause of the Lady Irene against you in single combat. Do you therefore -call your people back that they may suffer no further damage, but fix a -time and place for us two to fight together in the cause of the Lady -Irene.” - -That night he pitched his tent outside the city, and would suffer none -to come near him; only Sir Sergis kept him company, and gave such -services as were needful. Now the Lady Irene had not heard of the coming -of Sir Artegall, and this being the day on which, lacking a champion who -should defend her cause, it was appointed for her to die, she arrayed -herself in squalid garments, fit for such occasion, and prepared herself -for her doom. But her mood was changed to joy when, coming to the -appointed place, she found Sir Artegall ready to do battle for her. - -And now, the lists having been made ready, Grantorto came forth prepared -for battle. He was clad in armour of iron, with a steel cap, rusty brown -in colour, on his head, and in his hand he carried a huge pole-axe. He -was of mighty stature, standing up as a giant among other men, and -hideous of aspect. Very expert in arms was he, and of great strength; no -man had ever stood against him in fight and held his own. - -Then the trumpets sounded and the two met. Fast and furiously did -Grantorto rain his blows upon his adversary. This was his manner of -fighting, to wit, to overbear his foe by the fierceness of his attack, -giving him no respite or breathing-time. But of this Sir Artegall was -well aware, and bore himself accordingly. It was as when a sailor sees a -storm approaching and strikes his sails and loosens his main-sheet. So -did Sir Artegall stoop his head, shunning the great shower of blows. -Small shame it is to stoop if a man shall thereafter raise his head the -higher. For a time, indeed, it might seem that the tyrant would prevail, -so heavy was the shower of blows that he poured upon him, and so many -the wounds which the great pole-axe made even through his armour. But -ere long the occasion came for which the knight had waited. When the -tyrant raised his arm high to strike what should be, he hoped, a mortal -blow, Sir Artegall smote under his guard and drove his sword deep into -his flank, so that the blood gushed forth in a great stream. Meanwhile -the blow of the pole-axe had fallen, and, despite the shield which the -knight had raised to defend his head, had bitten so deep that the giant -could by no means loose it again. Then Sir Artegall let go his shield, -and struck Grantorto on the head with such strength that he brought him -to the ground, and, as he lay, with yet another stroke severed his head -from his body. - -Then all the people, glad to be rid of the tyrant, joyfully hastened to -pay their homage to Queen Irene. So she was established on her throne. -Sir Artegall tarried awhile to order all things in peace and justice, -Talus helping much in the seeking out and punishment of offenders. - - - - - CHAPTER XXXV - OF SIR CALIDORE AND THE LADY BRIANA - - -As Sir Artegall was returning from his latest enterprise, he met a -certain Sir Calidore, who was in high repute among the knights and dames -of Fairyland for his courtesy and honesty. These two had been friends in -old time, and now were right glad to meet. - -“Hail, noble sir,” said Sir Calidore, “tell me, I pray you, how you have -prospered in your enterprise.” - -And when the other had unfolded the whole matter in order, what -hindrances he had encountered, and what success he had achieved in the -end, “Happy man,” he said, “that have accomplished so great an -enterprise! You are at the end of your labours, but I am but beginning -mine, nor do I know where to begin; the way is all untried. I know not -what dangers await me, nor what provision I must make.” - -“What, then, is this enterprise of yours?” said Sir Artegall. - -“I pursue,” answered the other, “the Blatant Beast, a monster that, -having been nurtured in the regions below, has now come forth on the -earth to be the plague and bane of men. My task is to follow him, if -need be, all over the world, till I can destroy him.” - -“Such a creature I myself saw,” said Sir Artegall, “after that I left -the Savage Island. It seemed to have full a thousand tongues, and with -all of these it bayed and barked at me; I heeded him not, and this -seemed to move him to still greater rage.” - -“Doubtless,” answered Sir Calidore, “that is the monster which I -follow.” - -“Go on and prosper,” said Sir Artegall; and so they parted in all -friendship and amity. - -After Sir Calidore had travelled a mile or so, he came upon a squire, a -comely youth to behold, whom his enemies had bound to a tree. The same -loudly called on him for help, which he, without waiting to ask -questions, promptly rendered. When he had loosed his bonds he said: -“Tell me, unhappy man, how you came into this evil plight; who was it -that captured you and bound you in this fashion?” - -“Sir Knight,” said the man, “be assured that it was by misfortune only, -not by fault committed, that I came into this condition. Not far from -this place there is a very strong castle, where they keep this evil -custom. No man may pass along the road—and the road so lies that none -may pass without leave obtained from them who hold the castle—without -payment of toll. And the toll is this—from every lady her hair, and from -every knight his beard.” - -“As shameful a custom as ever came to my ears!” cried Sir Calidore, “and -one speedily to be overthrown! But tell me how it came about, and what -was its beginning?” - -“In this castle,” the squire made reply, “there dwells a certain lady, -Briana by name; there is no one on earth more proud, and it vexes her -sorely that she loves a certain Sir Crudor, and that he will not deign -to return love for love, until she shall make for him a mantle lined -with the hair of ladies and the beards of knights. And she to gain this -end uses the castle, having for her minister in the matter a certain -Maleffort, who, indeed, does her will in the most cruel fashion. This -very day, as I journeyed by the road with the lady whom I love, this -Maleffort made an assault upon us. Me first he took prisoner, for I -could not withstand him, so strong was he. This done, he pursued the -damsel, binding me to this tree until he should come back. But whether -he has found her or not, I know not.” - -While he was yet speaking, they heard a loud shriek from hard by, and -looking to the place saw the knave holding a lady by her garments and -about to shear the tresses from her head. When Sir Calidore saw this he -was greatly moved with wrath; the squire he left, and turned to pursue -the villain. “Hold!” he cried, “leave that evil doing, and turn to -answer me!” - -The fellow, trusting in his strength, which, indeed, had never failed -him, answered him scornfully. “Who,” said he, “are you that defy me in -this fashion? You take this maiden’s part; will you then give your -beard, though it be but little, for her locks? Nay, nay, you may not -purchase them so cheaply.” So saying he ran at Sir Calidore in a mighty -rage, and rained upon him a great shower of blows. The knight, who was -well skilled in arms, held back awhile, standing on his defence, and let -him spend his strength. But when he perceived that he was failing -somewhat, then he began to press him; the more he gave way the more -strongly he assailed him. At last the fellow lost heart, and turned to -fly, hoping to gain the castle and find shelter. So he fled, Sir -Calidore pursuing; and now he had reached the gate and cried aloud that -they should open to him without delay. This indeed they who were within, -seeing in what extremity he was, made haste to do, but even as he stood -in the porch Sir Calidore dealt him a mighty blow with his sword, and -cleft his head from the crown to the chin. He fell down dead where he -stood, and when they would have shut the gate, they could not, for the -carcase blocked the way, and Sir Calidore entering in, slew the porter -where he stood. Then all who were in the castle set at him, but in vain; -he swept them aside full easily, as an ox, standing in a meadow on a -summer day, sweeps away the flies which trouble him. So he passed from -the porch into the hall, where the Lady Briana met him, and assailed him -with angry words, calling him villain because he had slain her steward, -and was now come to rob her of her possessions. - -“Nay, nay, fair lady,” he made answer, “I deserve not these reproaches. -I came to abate an evil custom that you wot of. Such things do dishonour -to the laws of courtesy. I pray you, therefore, of your own accord, to -do away with this evil. Rather show kindness and hospitality to all such -as pass by this way; so shall you gain a glory that is better far than -earthly love.” - -These words did but make her wrath more strong. “Know, sir,” she cried, -“that I disdain all this talk of kindness and courtesy, and defy you to -the death.” - -“I hold it no shame,” answered Sir Calidore, “to take defiance from a -lady; but were there one here who would abide the trial with his sword, -gladly would I prove my words upon him.” - -Then the lady in great haste called to her a dwarf who served her, and -taking from her hand a ring of gold, gave it to him, saying: “Take this -with all speed to Sir Crudor; and tell him that there is a knight here -who has slain my steward and done much damage to my people;” for it had -been agreed between them, that when urgent need should arise she should -send this ring. So the dwarf departed with the ring, and travelled all -that night. Meanwhile Sir Calidore abode in the castle, the lady being -now scornful, now angry, and he enduring her moods with all patience and -courtesy. - -The next day, before the sun rose, came the dwarf, bringing a message -from Sir Crudor that he would come to her help before he had broken his -fast, and would deliver to her the enemy alive or dead; and he sent his -helmet as a true token. Greatly did the Lady Briana rejoice to have such -news, and behaved herself more scornfully than ever to Sir Calidore. He -took no heed of her ways, rather rejoicing that he should have someone -with whom to settle this quarrel. So he donned his arms, and waited for -the coming of Sir Crudor. Nor did he wait long. Right soon did he espy a -knight riding across the plain. “This,” said he to himself, “is the Lady -Briana’s champion,” and without staying to ask of anyone who this -new-comer might be, he rode forth to meet him. The two came together in -the middle of the plain with so strong a shock that both were rolled -upon the ground, each rider with his horse. Sir Calidore rose lightly -from the ground, while his adversary still lay without sense or speech, -but he disdained to do him any damage; it would ill become a courteous -knight to strike a sleeping foe. But Briana, where she stood upon the -castle walls, thought that her champion was dead, and loudly bemoaned -him, and made as if she would throw herself from the walls to the earth. - -After a while Sir Crudor raised himself from the ground, but in listless -fashion, like to one who can scarcely rouse himself from sleep. But when -he saw his adversary, his spirit returned to him as before, and he -renewed the fight, hoping that he would fare better on foot than he had -fared on horseback. Long did they fight, dealing each to other fearful -blows. Not once, so fierce were they, did they pause to take rest. At -the last, when, as if by common consent, both lifted their swords high -in the air to deal what might be a final blow, and so finish the fight, -either for this champion or for that, Sir Calidore, being more nimble -and quicker of sight than his adversary, was beforehand with him, and -struck him with so sharp a blow upon his helmet that he brought him to -his knee. Nor did he fail to follow up his advantage, but redoubling the -fierceness of his strokes, brought him altogether to the ground. As he -lay there he would have unlaced his helmet, and given him his -death-blow, but the vanquished man begged for mercy. Then Sir Calidore, -mastering his anger, such was his courtesy, said: “Mercy I grant with -all goodwill. Do you learn not to treat strangers with such rudeness. -This ill befits a knight, for his first duty is to conquer himself. And -now I give you your life on these conditions, that you help to the best -of your power all wandering knights, and also give aid as you can to all -ladies in need.” - -These things the knight, being thus delivered beyond all hope from the -fear of death, promised to do, and swore fealty to Sir Calidore as being -his liege lord for all his life. All this time the Lady Briana was -looking in great dismay and trouble of mind; and now Sir Calidore, -bidding her to approach, told all that had been agreed between him and -Sir Crudor. She was overcome by so great a courtesy, and thanked him -with all her heart, for indeed it was in her inmost heart that she was -moved. She threw herself at his feet, and declared herself to be wholly -bound to him. After this they all betook themselves to the castle, where -the lady entertained them in most joyous fashion. - -The banquet ended, she said: “Sir Calidore, I do bestow this castle upon -you freely and without price, by way of token of how great is my debt to -you.” - -Then answered Sir Calidore: “Lady, I thank you for this gift; but I am -not minded to take any hire or reward for any good deed that it may be -given me to do.” So he gave the castle to the squire, that he and the -damsel might dwell there. And when he had tarried there certain days, -and was now made whole of his wounds, he went forth again on his quest. - - - - - CHAPTER XXXVI - OF THE VALOUR OF TRISTRAM - - -As Sir Calidore went on his way he saw a young man of great stature -fighting on foot with a knight on horseback. Not far from these two -stood a lady, clad in very poor array. Sir Calidore would have inquired -of her the cause of the strife, having it in his mind to part the two -combatants, if this might be done. But before he could come at the -place, the youth had slain the knight, a thing at which he wondered not -a little. This same youth was very goodly to look at, slender in shape, -and of but seventeen years or so, as it seemed, but tall and fair of -face. He was clad in a woodman’s jacket of Lincoln green, embroidered -with silver, with a huntsman’s horn hanging by his side. He had a dart -in his right hand, and in his left a boar-spear. - -“What means this?” said Sir Calidore. “You, who are no knight, have -slain a knight, a thing plainly contrary to the law of arms.” - -“I would not wish,” answered the youth, “to break the law of arms; yet -would I break it again, sooner than suffer such wrong as I have of this -man, so long as I have two hands wherewith to defend myself. The quarrel -with him was not of my seeking, as this lady can testify.” - -“Tell me therefore,” said Sir Calidore, “how things fell out.” - -“Sir Knight,” answered the lad, “I was hunting in the wood, as I am wont -to do for lack of graver employment, for which my years are not fit, -when I saw this knight, who lies dead yonder, passing over the plain, -with this lady in his company. He was on horseback, but she followed on -foot, and when she lagged behind, as she must needs do, so rough was the -ground, then he smote her with the butt of his spear, taking no heed of -her tears and prayers. This sight I saw with no small indignation, and -being moved with wrath said: ‘Surely, Sir Knight, you should rather -takeup this lady to ride behind you than make her travel so uneasily.’ -To this he answered in angry words, bidding me hold my peace, nor meddle -with things that concerned me not. ‘Or,’ said he, ‘I will whip you as a -malapert boy should be whipped!’ So after some angry talk, he struck me -twice with his spear, and I threw at him a dart, fellow of this which -you see here in my hand; nor did I throw it in vain, for it struck him -beneath the heart so hard that presently he died.” - -Sir Calidore was not a little pleased with his manner of speech, so bold -and honest was it, and he admired also the sturdiness of the stroke -which had broken to such effect the coat of mail. And when, after -question put to the lady, he found that it was even as the lad had told, -he said: “I do not condemn this youth, but rather hold him free of -blame. ’Tis the duty of knights, and indeed of all men, to bear -themselves kindly and courteously to women, and he did well to maintain -this good custom. But now I would have you tell me, lady, if you will, -how it came about that the man whom he slew treated you in so unseemly a -fashion?” - -“Sir Knight,” answered the lady, “I am loath to bring accusations -against the dead; yet I must needs declare the truth. This day, as this -knight and I were passing on our way, we came upon a glade in the wood -where there sat two lovers, a comely knight and a fair lady. The knight -my companion being taken with the lady’s beauty, bade me dismount. And -when I was unwilling to do so, thrust me out of my seat with violence. -Which when he had done, he said to the other: ‘Now, yield me up that -dame!’ And when the other—though, indeed, he was not prepared for -battle—refused, then he wounded him sorely with his spear. This he did, -though the other had proffered to do battle with him, if only he would -appoint a day when they might try their strength on equal terms. -Meanwhile the lady had fled into the wood, and had hidden herself to -such good purpose, that when my knight sought to find her, he spent all -his labour in vain. At this baulk he was greatly enraged. He would not -set me on his horse again, but constrained me to follow on foot, smiting -me with his spear if ever I lagged behind, and taking no heed of my -tears and complaining. So we went on till we fell in with this young -man, and he, being moved with pity at my evil plight, rebuked the -knight. How the matter ended you have seen for yourself.” - -“This boor has received his due,” said Calidore. Then turning to the -lad, he said: “Tell me now who you are, and how you came to be in this -place. Never did I see greater promise in anyone, and I would help you -to bring it to as good fulfilment as may be.” - -“Sir Knight,” the youth made answer, “it may be that the revealing of my -name and lineage may be to my hurt, for of such danger I have been -warned; nevertheless, so courteously have you borne yourself to me, that -I will tell you the whole truth. I am a Briton, Tristram by name, son of -good King Meliogras, who once reigned in the land of Cornwall. He dying -while I was yet of tender years, his brother took the kingdom. Thereupon -my mother, Queen Emiline, conceiving me to be in danger from this same -uncle, thought it best to send me into some foreign land, where I should -not be within his reach, if the thought of doing me a mischief should -arise in his heart. So, according to the counsel of a wise man of whom -she inquired in her perplexity, she sent me from the land of Lyonesse, -where I was born, to the land of Fairy, where, no one knowing who or -what I was, none would seek to do me wrong. I was then ten years of age, -and I have abode in this land ever since, not wasting my days in vain -delights, but perfecting myself in all the arts of hunting. But now it -is time, I hold, to look to higher things. Therefore, this being such an -occasion as might not again befall, I would entreat of you that you -advance me, unworthy though I be, to a squire’s degree, so that I may -duly learn and practise all the use of arms. And for this I have this -beginning, to wit, the arms of this knight, whom I slew in fair -encounter.” - -Sir Calidore answered, “Fair child, I would not by any means baulk this -your honourable desire to follow the profession of arms; only I could -wish that I could set you to some service that should be worthy of you. -Kneel therefore and swear that you will be faithful to any knight whom -you shall serve as squire, and be true to all ladies, and never draw -back from fear of any deed that it may be fitting for you to do.” So -Tristram knelt down upon his knees, and took his oath to do according to -these words. - -Thereupon Sir Calidore dubbed him a squire, and he bloomed forth -straightway in all joy and gladness, even as a bud opens into a flower. -But when Tristram besought him that he might go with him on his present -adventure, vowing that he would follow him to the death, Sir Calidore -answered: “I should be right glad, most courteous squire, to have you -with me, so that I might see the valour which you have show itself in -honourable achievement, but this may not be. I am bound by vow to my -sovereign, who set me this task to accomplish, that I would not take -anyone to aid me. For this reason I may not grant your request. But now, -seeing that this lady is left desolate, and is in need of safe convoy, -you will do well to succour her in this her need.” - -This service the youth gladly undertook, and Sir Calidore, taking leave -of him and the dame in courteous fashion, set forth again on his quest. -He had not travelled far before he came to the place where the knight -who had been so discourteously treated by him whom Tristram had slain, -lay in a most sorrowful plight. He was bleeding from many wounds, so -that all the earth about him was red; and the lady sat by him weeping, -and yet doing all that she could with careful hands to dress his wounds -and ease his pain. Sir Calidore, when he saw this sorry sight, was -well-nigh moved to tears; from which, scarce refraining himself, he -said: “Tell me, sad lady, if your grief will suffer you, who it was that -with cruel hand wrought such mischief to a knight unarmed, for surely, -if I may but come near him, I will avenge this wrong upon him.” - -The lady answered: “Fair sir, this knight whom you see here and I sat -talking in lover’s fashion, and this man charged him, unarmed as he was, -and dealt him these deadly wounds. And if you would know what manner of -man he was, he was of tall stature, clad in gilded armour, crossed with -a band of blue, and for device on his shield he had a lady rowed in a -summer barge across rough waves.” - -When Sir Calidore heard this, he was assured that this indeed was the -knight whom Tristram had slain, and he said: “Lady, take to yourself -this comfort, that he who so foully wronged your knight lies now in yet -more evil case. I saw him with my own eyes lying dead upon the earth, a -just recompense for the foul wrong that he did to your fair knight. And -now bethink you what we may best do for this wounded man, how you may -best convey him hence, and to what refuge.” - -She thanked him for his courtesy and friendly care, yet knew not what to -say, for being a stranger in that country she could not think of a -fitting place, nor could she ask him to carry the wounded man. This he -did not fail to perceive, and said: “Fair lady, think not that I deem it -a disgrace to carry this burden; gladly will I help you.” Taking -therefore his shield, and first pouring the healing balm, which he -always carried with him for such needs, into the knight’s wounds, he put -him thereon, and bare him, the lady helping, to a castle that was hard -by. And it so chanced that the lord of this castle was father to the -wounded knight, a man far advanced in years, who had been a famous -man-at-arms in the days gone by, and was of most courteous and -hospitable temper. Aldus was his name, and his son’s name was Aladine. -Great was his grief when he saw his dear son brought home in such a -plight. - -“Dear boy,” he cried, “and is the pleasure with which I thought to -welcome you to this your home turned to such sorrow!” Nevertheless he -put a brave constraint upon his sorrow, and turned himself to entertain -his guests with all hospitality. To this welcome Sir Calidore made a -courteous return, but the lady, whose name was Priscilla, could not by -any means be cheered. She was daughter to a noble lord that dwelt hard -by, and had seen and loved this same Aladine, though he was of meaner -birth and smaller estate; and now she was much troubled, thinking both -of her lover’s perilous state and of how her father would take the -matter. So, while Sir Aldus entertained Sir Calidore, she sat and tended -the wounded man, and at the last, with infinite pains, brought him out -of the swoon in which he lay, and restored him to himself. - -The next day, when Sir Calidore came to see how the wounded man was -faring, he found him not a little bettered in state of body, but anxious -in mind, especially for his lady’s sake, because of the displeasure -which her father might have concerning her love for him. Thereupon he -told to Sir Calidore the whole story of his love, and besought his help, -which he, much moved by pity for their sorrowful case, gladly promised -that he would give. This promise he most fully did perform. First he -went to where the carcase of that misbehaved knight lay upon the ground, -and shore the head from the body. This he took in his hand, and brought -the lady to her father’s house. He, indeed, was greatly troubled to -think what had befallen his child, and was much rejoiced to see her -again safe and sound. - -Then said Sir Calidore: “Your daughter was like to suffer wrong from an -evil knight; but he suffered for his evil intent—lo! here you see his -head.” - -Then did the noble lord most gladly receive her again to her home, and -Sir Calidore, after a short sojourn, departed again upon his quest. - - - - - CHAPTER XXXVII - SIR CALEPINE AND THE LADY SERENA - - -As Sir Calidore passed on his way he came upon two lovers, Sir Calepine -and the Lady Serena, as they sat talking together. They were abashed to -see him, and he, being the very soul of courtesy, made most humble -apology for so disturbing them. Then said Sir Calepine: “Sit down and -rest awhile, and let us talk together;” to which Sir Calidore -courteously assented. While they talked, the Lady Serena, tempted by the -fairness of the place, and seeking to make a garland of flowers, of -which there was great store, wandered away. - -Thereupon the Blatant Beast, the same monster which Sir Calidore had it -in charge to seek, rushed out of a wood that was hard by, caught her in -his mouth, and carried her away. She cried aloud to the two knights for -help, and they, hearing her voice, started up to succour her. Sir -Calidore, being the more swift of foot of the two, overtook the beast -before it had gone far. Thereupon it cast down the lady out of its mouth -and fled. Nor did Sir Calidore delay to pursue the beast. “The lady,” -said he to himself, “will be cared for by her own knight; but as for me, -I must not abandon my quest.” How he fared in the pursuit will be told -hereafter; but we will follow in the meanwhile the fortunes of the two -lovers. - -Sir Calepine found the lady in very sad plight, being sorely wounded on -both sides by the monster’s teeth, so that she lay upon the ground in a -swoon, as if she were dead. With much ado he brought her back to life, -and, setting her on his horse, held her up with his arms, till they -could find some place where she might rest and be healed of her wounds. -So they journeyed till they came to a river, on the other side of which -stood a fair castle, in which he hoped that he might find shelter. But -when he came to the water’s edge he found that the stream could scarce -be forded on foot. While he doubted what it were best to do, there came -a knight to the river’s side, with a lady riding on a palfrey by his -side. Thereupon Sir Calepine, with all due courtesy, made a request of -the new-comer, that he would take this wounded lady to the other side. - -“Not so,” replied the other; “if you have no horse of your own you shall -have no help of mine. Go on foot, and let this lady do the same. Or, if -you like it better, carry her on your back, and so prove yourself a -man.” - -The lady on the palfrey was much displeased at the rudeness of this -speech, and, pitying the plight of Serena, would have helped her with -her own palfrey. For this courtesy Sir Calepine thanked her, but, being -very angry with the knight, would have none of her help. Stepping down, -therefore, into the river, he held himself up against the stream with -his spear in one hand, and with the other hand stayed the lady on his -horse. All the while the discourteous knight stood on the bank jeering -and laughing. - -When Sir Calepine had won in safety to the farther bank, he called aloud -to the other, saying, “Unknightly man, disgrace to all who bear arms, I -defy you. Fight if you dare, or never be bold to bear arms again.” But -the fellow took no heed of this challenge, but laughed aloud, as if to -say that his adversary was of so mean estate that a man of honour need -not trouble to regard his words. So, crossing the stream, he came to the -fair house on the farther bank, for indeed this was his house. - -To this same house came Sir Calepine, for indeed there was no other -house where he could find shelter, and asked admittance for the lady’s -sake. But the porter said: “We find no lodging here for any wandering -knight, unless he is willing first to fight with the master of the -house.” - -“And who is he?” said Sir Calepine. - -“His name,” answered the porter, “is Sir Turpin; a mighty man and a -great fighter; he bears a great grudge against all wandering knights, by -reason of some wrong that was done him by such a knight in time past.” - -Then said Sir Calepine: “Go your way to your master, and tell him that a -wandering knight craves shelter for a wounded lady, and that he is -willing to fight, but craves that Sir Turpin will, of his courtesy, -postpone this issue till the day following.” To this request no answer -other than had first been delivered was made, and Sir Calepine perforce -turned away, not knowing what else he could do. All that night he -sheltered the lady under a bush as best he could. The next day he went -on his way, hoping to find some more hospitable place, and walking as -before by the lady’s side. - -But he was not suffered to proceed far; for Sir Turpin, filled with -hatred and malice, pursued after him and overtook him, and having him at -a disadvantage, for he had the charge of the lady on his hands, went -near to slaying him. Slain without doubt he had been, but for help that -came to him beyond all hope. A savage man, who dwelt in the wood, -hearing the lady’s cry, hastened to discover what had befallen. He was -as a brute beast, and had never before felt in his breast any touch of -pity; but now, seeing the knight so hardly pressed, was moved to help -him. Neither armour had he nor arms, being wont to strike with such -things as came to his hand, and for protection he had a magic charm, -which from his birth had made him proof against all wounds. He took no -thought how he could best attack Sir Turpin, but ran at him with great -fury. The knight struck him full upon the breast with his spear, but -made no wound. And when the wild man’s fury grew greater and greater, -and he caught hold of the knight’s shield, and the knight on the other -hand perceived that neither spear nor sword availed anything against -him, then Sir Turpin left his shield and his spear also and fled. Nor -had he then escaped but for the fleetness of his steed, for the savage -also was the fastest of runners. So near did he come that Sir Turpin -shrieked aloud for fear, a most unbecoming thing for a knight to do; -nevertheless, by the speed of his horse he escaped to his castle. - -The savage man, therefore, seeing his labour of pursuit to be vain, -returned to the place where he had left the knight and the lady. Both he -found in very evil case, and tended them with all care, staunching the -bleeding of their wounds with juices of healing herbs which he found in -the woods. Also he took them to a dwelling which he had in the wood hard -by, and gave them such entertainment as he could, beds of leaves on -which to sleep, and wild fruits of the wood for food, for the savage man -never would slay any living creature. - -But now there befell these lovers a great mishap. Sir Calepine, being -now whole of his wounds, was wandering in the wood, when he heard the -cry of an infant which a bear was carrying off in his mouth. This indeed -he rescued, but in the chase went so far that he wholly lost his way, -and could not by any means return to the place where he had left the -Lady Serena. Long did she wait for his coming, being in great doubt and -trouble as to what had befallen him, and when, after many days, he was -still absent, she purposed to leave the abode of the Savage Man. He -would not suffer her to go alone, but clad himself in Sir Calepine’s -armour—his sword the knight had put in some secret place—and so set -forth; nor, indeed, was ever a stranger pair seen in company. - -They had not journeyed far before, by great good fortune, they met -Prince Arthur. To him Serena told all that had befallen her and Sir -Calepine, the misdeeds of Sir Turpin, and the wandering away of the -knight. And when Prince Arthur had heard her tale, he said: “You I will -bestow with a good and wise man, a hermit, who dwells in these parts. My -squire also, who has suffered no little damage, I will leave; as for -this discourteous knight who calls himself Turpin, I will punish him -forthwith.” - -And this he did in most effective fashion, slaying him and hanging him -after by the heels upon a tree, that others might take warning by his -punishment. - -And now shall be told what befell the Lady Serena, and how it came to -pass that she and her lover were found one of another. It chanced one -day as she walked in the wood with Prince Arthur’s squire that he was -set upon by two knaves, and she, doubting to what end the battle might -come, fled away on her feet, and, losing her way, could not by any means -return to the hermit’s abode. Being wearied out with long wandering, she -lay down in the wood to sleep. - -Now there dwelt in those parts a savage tribe which was wont to live by -robbery. They did not till the ground, nor breed cattle, nor deal in -merchandise, but they lived by spoiling of their neighbours’ goods. And -they had this evil custom also, that they lived on the flesh of men, -devouring all strangers whom they might chance to find within their -borders. Some of these savages, as they wandered in the forest, chanced -to see Serena, as she lay asleep. Great was their joy to see her, not -for her beauty, but because she would make, they thought, so goodly a -meal. First they debated whether they should wake her or let her sleep. -And it seemed to them better that she should sleep her fill. “She will -be the better,” they said, “for her sleep.” Also they agreed together -that she should be offered in sacrifice to their god. “He,” said they, -“shall have her blood, and we, after the sacrifice, will have a goodly -feast on her flesh.” This they set about to do, and having built an -altar, they stripped her of her ornaments and robes and laid her upon -it; and the priest stood ready to slay her with a knife of stone in his -hand, when their evil purpose was baulked. - -Sir Calepine, by some happy chance, had come to this same grove, which -they had fixed for the place of the sacrifice, and for the feast which -was to come after. He was still searching for Serena, and having -travelled far that day, had laid himself down to sleep. And now, there -being a great noise of bagpipes and horns, for with these they -celebrated the solemnity, he started up; and, looking through the -branches that were about him, saw the altar set, and the woman lying on -it, and the priest, stretching out his hand to slay her. Who she was he -knew not, but ran to her help, as was a knight’s duty, and the priest he -slew, and not a few of the savages that were gathered round, and the -rest fled like to doves that fly before a hawk. So did Sir Calepine -recover the lady of his love. - - - - - CHAPTER XXXVIII - OF SIR CALIDORE AND PASTORELLA - - -Now must be told what befell Sir Calidore in his quest. For many days he -pursued unceasingly the Blatant Beast. Over hills and through valleys, -through forests and across plains, he made his way, and wearied not. The -monster he suffered not to rest, nor did he rest himself, save only when -Nature commanded; for he feared disgrace, if haply should he, for reason -of sloth, forego his task, and the monster should escape. Therefore he -went from Court to city, and from city to country, and in the country -nothing would content him but he must search in every farm. On a day -while he thus urged the pursuit, he came on a company of shepherds who -were playing on pipes and singing country ballads, the while their -flocks fed near them among the broom bushes with their flowers of gold. -When he came near to them he inquired of them whether they had chanced -to see such a beast as he sought. - -They answered him: “We have seen none such in this country, nor have we -anything that threatens harm to us or to our flocks. And we pray to the -good God that He will keep such creatures far from us.” And one of them, -perceiving that the knight was hot and weary, offered him drink, and if -he chanced to be hungry, something that he might eat. This courteous -offer he gladly accepted, and sat him down, well content with such -simple fare as suits the dweller in the country. When he had ended his -meal he saw a fair damsel who wore a crown of flowers tied with ribbons -of silk, being clad in a gown of home-made green which she had worked -with her own hands. She sat on a little hillock in the middle of the -company, with company of lovely maids about her, and round these again -was a ring of shepherds, piping and singing the praises of their queen, -for indeed she did shine as a queen in the midst of her subjects. Fair -of face she was and of just proportions, and commended her beauty to all -beholders by the modesty of her carriage. There was not one in the place -but honoured, and not a few sighed for her in love: but she had no -liking for anyone. - -Greatly did Sir Calidore admire both her beauty and her carriage, for -they seemed to him to far excel the shepherd’s estate. “Surely,” he said -to himself, “this may be a princess who thus disguises her high -condition.” And even while he thought the thought in his heart, Love -took him unawares. So he sat musing, and, for a while, so taken was his -heart with this new thought, forgot the chase. - -And now the evening was come and it behoved the shepherds to fold their -flocks. So there came an aged sire, Melibæus by name, who was commonly -reputed to be the father of the fair maiden—Pastorella was her name. So -indeed it was believed, but, in very truth, he had found her as an -infant lying in an open field, and taking her home, had brought her up -as his child, for child of his very own he had none. The old man said, -“Night falls, and we must fold the flocks.” Nor was there any want of -helpers to the fair Pastorella. Many were eager to manage her sheep, and -none more eager than Corydon. - -Then Melibæus, seeing how Sir Calidore sat alone, seeming to have no -place of abode, and that night was now near at hand, said to him: “Fair -sir, I have but a humble cottage; yet is this a better lodging than the -bare field; I pray you to take up your abode with me this night.” To -which Sir Calidore gladly agreed, for indeed there was nothing that he -more desired. - -A hearty welcome did the old man and his wife accord to the knight. -Shortly after, the fair Pastorella came back from folding her flock, and -they all sat down to sup in high content, and had much pleasant talk -concerning the shepherd’s life, the delights of which old Melibæus set -forth. “Let those who will seek after honour and wealth and the good -things of this world: I am content with what I have. My nights I spend -in quiet sleep, my days in honest toil. I take good care that the fox -shall not harm my lambs; I catch birds in snares, and fishes with hook -and net. When I am weary, I rest my limbs under the green tree; when I -am thirsty, I drink of the brook. Time was when I was not content with -these simple things, but must raise myself above my fellows, and seek -fortune elsewhere. So I left my home and betook myself to the King’s -Court, and worked for hire. But I perceived that in this life there was -vanity and discontent; after ten years, therefore, had passed, I came -back to my home and to peace, and I have learnt to love it daily more -and more.” While the good man talked, the knight was well content to -listen. Much he liked to hear such speech, but more to look at the fair -Pastorella. - -After a while he said to the old man, “Good father, I would gladly rest -a while in this peaceful place. The ship of my life has of late been -greatly tossed by tempestuous winds and in stormy seas. Let it therefore -find haven here, and I meanwhile will meditate what course I shall -follow for the time to come. But I would not that my entertainment -should be a burden to you. Your simple fare and such lodging as you can -give content me well; but for these you should have fair guerdon.” So -saying he drew from his pouch a great store of gold, and would have the -old man take it. But Melibæus pushed it from him. - -“I desire it not,” he said; “this is the thing that breeds such mischief -in the world. But if you are content to abide here and lead our -shepherd’s life, be it so; I am well content.” - -So Sir Calidore abode in the old man’s house, delighting himself with -the daily sight of the fair Pastorella, and bearing her company whenever -he could find excuse. Very high courtesy did he show to the maid; but -she, having been used to more lowly things, held it in but light esteem. -This the knight did not fail to perceive. So he doffed his knightly -attire, and clad himself in shepherd’s dress, and laid aside his spear -for a shepherd’s crook. One had thought him another Paris when for -Œnone’s sake he fed her flocks on the Phrygian Ida. So did the shepherd -Calidore go day by day to the fields with Pastorella’s flock. He kept -watch against the wolf while the maid sported and played, and at -even—such is the might of love—he would essay to help in the milking of -the ewes. - -These things were little to the liking of Corydon, who had long courted -the maid. He wore a scowling face and would complain that old service -was forgotten, and bore himself in most injurious fashion. Calidore, on -the other hand, never abated one jot of his usual courtesy, showing no -sign of rancour or offence, but rather seeking, as it seemed, to commend -his rival to the good opinion of the maid. So when they danced to the -piping of Colin Clout, and the others would have Calidore lead the ring, -the knight took Corydon and set him in his place. And when Pastorella -took the garland of flowers from her head and set it on Calidore’s, he -again put it on the head of Corydon, much to the youth’s content. -Another time, when the shepherds had games and contests of skill and -strength, the prize being a garland which the fair Pastorella had twined -with her own hands, Corydon stepped into the ring and challenged the -knight to a bout of wrestling. He was himself well skilled in the art, -and being supple and strong sought to put his rival to open shame. But -he was much mistaken in his man, for the knight far excelled him both in -strength and in skill, and gave him such a fall as well-nigh broke his -neck. Nevertheless, when Pastorella bestowed on him the crown, he passed -it to Corydon, saying that he in truth deserved it more, and that he had -prevailed by fortune rather than by skill. Thus did the knight, so -courteous was he and large of heart, win the fair maiden’s favour. But -there was nothing which advanced him more than that which is now to be -told. - -On a certain day when these three, to wit, Pastorella and Sir Calidore -and the shepherd Corydon, went out into the wood to gather strawberries, -a tiger suddenly rushed out from a thicket, and with wide gaping mouth -ran at the maid. She, seeing herself alone, for her companions chanced -to be divided from her, cried aloud for succour. And when Corydon, who -was the nearer of the two, heard the cry, he ran to help her. But when -he saw how fierce a beast it was that was attacking her, his courage -failed him, and he fled, putting his life before his love. But Calidore, -who also had heard the crying, coming not far behind, when he saw the -tiger and the maiden held in his claws, ran at the beast with all his -strength, and first striking him to the ground with such a blow that the -creature could not stand under it, then cut off its head and laid it at -the maiden’s feet. Small wonder is it that she gave her love to a knight -so courteous and so bold. So for a while they abode in great content, -save that Sir Calidore had put out of his mind the quest on which he was -bound, concerning which quest he had sworn to the great Queen Gloriana -that nothing should hinder him from it. - - - - - CHAPTER XXXIX - THE END OF SIR CALIDORE’S QUEST - - -It chanced one day that while Sir Calidore was hunting in the woods—it -pleased him more to be hunter than to be shepherd—a company of lawless -men who never used the spade or plough, but lived by the spoiling of -their neighbours, fell upon the shepherds’ village, and spoiled their -houses and drove away their flocks. Many of the men they slew, and many -they led away captives. Among these was old Melibæus and the fair -Pastorella and also Corydon. These the brigands carried away to an -island where they dwelt, a close place, hidden with great woods round -about, meaning, when occasion offered, to sell them to merchants who -dealt in such wares. - -When they had remained in ward for a while the captain of the brigands, -seeing Pastorella how fair she was, conceived a great love for her, and -when she spake him fair, would have had her marry him. This she was -ill-content to do, but could not devise any other means to stay his -importunities than to feign a sudden sickness. While she was making this -pretence there came to the island a company of slave merchants, who, -inquiring whether there were any of the wares in which they dealt, were -brought to the captain. - -“Sir,” said the brigands to the captain, “here be the merchants; ’twould -be well that all the captives whom we have should be brought out and -sold for such a price as may be agreed upon, and the money divided in -equal shares.” - -To this the captain could not but consent. The captives, therefore, were -brought forward, Melibæus and Corydon and the others, and the merchants -set a price upon them. This being finished, said one of the brigands, -“There is yet another captive, a very fair maid, for whom, without -doubt, you would pay much money, so beautiful is she to look upon.” - -“Nay,” cried the captain, “that maid is not for selling. She is my wife, -nor has anyone any concern with her. She, too, is now so wasted and worn -with sickness that no one would be willing to pay for her a price, -however small.” - -So he took them to the chamber where she abode. A poor place it was, -gloomy and dark, and the maiden was wasted and wan. Nevertheless the -merchants were astonished at her beauty. “The others,” said their -spokesman, “are but common wares. We will buy them, if you will, but on -this condition only, that we may buy this maiden also.” And he named for -her a price of a thousand pieces of gold. - -The captain’s wrath was much moved at these words. “My love,” he cried, -“shall not be sold. With the others you may do as you will, but to her I -hold.” - -“Nay,” said the one who was chief among the brigands, “you do us great -wrong. We have our equal share in her, and we demand that she be sold -with the rest.” - -When he heard this, the captain drew his sword from its sheath, and -shouted that anyone who should dare lay hands on her should straightway -die. On this there followed a great battle. But first they slew the -prisoners, lest haply they should turn against the weaker side. Thus did -old Melibæus die and with him many others, but Corydon escaped. This -being done, the thieves fought among themselves; and soon the captain, -who was ever more careful of Pastorella than of his own life, was slain, -and she, being wounded with the same stroke by which he was bereft of -life, fell upon the ground, being hidden under a pile of dead bodies. -The captain being dead, the strife of which he was the beginning and the -chief cause soon came to an end. The brigands, searching among the dead, -found the maid still lived, though sorely wounded; they gave her, -therefore, such care as could be found in so rude a place. - -In the meanwhile Corydon had made his way to the village where he dwelt, -and there he encountered the knight, who, seeing the house in which he -dwelt utterly spoiled and void of all inhabitants, was overwhelmed with -trouble and fear. To him he told the story of how he, with the rest, had -been led into captivity, and how the brigands had fallen out among -themselves, and how the captain had fought with the others, and had been -slain, and with him Pastorella, for so the shepherd believed. - -For a while Sir Calidore was wholly mastered by his grief. Yet coming to -himself, he considered that Corydon had not seen with his own eyes all -that he had told, because he had fled away before the strife had so much -as begun; and so hope, which is ever hard to kill in the hearts of men, -sprang up within him, and he made a great resolve that he would find her -if she yet lived, or avenge her if she had died. He therefore said to -Corydon: “Come now, and show me the place where these brigands dwell,” -which thing Corydon was at the first unwilling to do; for he was not -minded to run again into the danger from which he had escaped. -Nevertheless Sir Calidore so wrought upon him that he consented to go. - -The two therefore set out together clad in shepherd’s clothing, and -carrying each a shepherd’s crook; but Sir Calidore had donned his -armour. After a while they saw on a hill which was not far away some -flocks and shepherds tending them, and approached them, hoping to learn -something about the matter with which they were concerned. Then they -perceived that these flocks were indeed the same as the brigands had -driven away, for Corydon knew his own sheep when he saw them, and wept -for pity, being in grievous fear because he perceived that they who kept -them were none other than the brigands themselves. These, however, were -but ill shepherds, for they lay fast asleep. Corydon would have had Sir -Calidore slay them as they slept. But the knight hoped that he might -gain from them some tidings of her whom he was seeking. So, waking them -gently, he gave them courteous greeting. And when the brigands would -know who he was, he answered that he and his companion were used to the -keeping of cattle and the like, and now, having run away from their -masters, sought to find service elsewhere. - -“Take service then with us,” said the brigands, “for this work is not to -our liking.” To this the two agreed, and took charge accordingly. - -When night fell the brigands took them to the cave where they dwelt. -There Sir Calidore learnt many things which he desired to know, and -chief of all that Pastorella was yet alive. At midnight, when all were -sleeping sound, Sir Calidore, fully armed, for he had found a sword, -though but of the meanest sort, went to the cave wherein dwelt the new -captain of the band. It was indeed barred, but the knight soon broke -down the bars, and when the captain, roused by the noise, came running -to the entrance, slew him. Pastorella, being within, was at the first -not a little alarmed at this new intruder, yet was greatly comforted to -see again her own lover, and he also was overcome with joy, and catching -her in his arms, kissed her most tenderly. Meanwhile the thieves had -gathered together, perceiving that some new danger threatened them. But -Sir Calidore, standing in the opening, slew them as they approached. In -the end he utterly vanquished the whole company, and spoiled their -goods. As for the sheep, he gave them as a gift to Corydon. The fair -Pastorella he bestowed in the house of a certain Sir Bellamour and the -lady Claribell his wife. - -Now must be told the true name and lineage of this same maiden -Pastorella. Sir Bellamour in former time had served a very great lord of -those parts who had one daughter, Claribell by name. This same lord had -promised her in marriage to the lord of Pictland, which was the -neighbouring dominion, thinking that the two domains might thus be -conveniently joined together. Claribell meanwhile loved Sir Bellamour, -who was a very gallant knight. So fondly did she love him that she -consented to a secret wedlock, having good hopes that her father might -relent. But when he continued to be hard of heart, she having borne a -maiden babe, was constrained to commit the child to a woman who waited -upon her. This same woman, taking the babe into the field, laid it under -a bush, and having hidden herself hard by, waited to see what should -happen, for she trusted that someone, hearing its cry, would take it up. -But first she noted that it had on its breast a little spot of purple -colour, like to a rosebud. After a while the shepherd Melibæus passing -by, heard the voice of the babe, and taking it from its place, carried -it home to his wife, who, being herself childless, gladly took it in -charge, and reared it for her own. No long time after the Lady -Claribell’s father died and left to her all that he had, and she having -now no cause why she should conceal her marriage, took Sir Bellamour -openly for her husband, and had lived with him in great content until -the coming of Sir Calidore into those parts. - -And now Sir Calidore bethought him of his quest, that he must not delay -its accomplishment any longer, and, indeed, he feared lest he should -suffer in fame because he had put it aside in thinking of other things. -Now, therefore, he departed, leaving Pastorella in the charge of the -Lady Claribell, the same undertaking this care most willingly, for the -maid was fair and gracious, and was altogether one to be loved. Sir -Bellamour also, having a friendship for Sir Calidore, with whom he had -served the Queen Gloriana in time past, was glad to help him in this -fashion. - -It chanced on a day that the Lady Claribell’s waiting woman, Melissa by -name, being the same that in time past had served her in the matter of -the new-born babe, was doing service to the fair Pastorella in the -matter of her attire. Being so engaged, she spied the mark on her bosom -and said to herself, “Surely this is the very mark of a rosebud that I -saw on the Lady Claribell’s maiden babe, and the years of her age, as -far as may be guessed, agree thereto.” Having this in her mind, she ran -straightway to the lady, her mistress, and unfolded the whole matter, -how she had noted the mark, and how the old shepherd had taken the babe -from the ground. That this shepherd and his wife had been as father and -mother to the maiden was of common knowledge. Nor did the Lady Claribell -delay to search out the matter with her own eyes, and, being satisfied -that this was indeed her very child, took her to herself with great joy, -as did also her husband, Sir Bellamour. - -Meanwhile Sir Calidore pursued the Blatant Beast, and at the last -overtook him. The monster, having spoiled all the other places in the -realm, was wasting the church, robbing the chancel and fouling the -altar, and casting down all the goodly ornaments. When he saw the knight -he fled, knowing that he was in peril, yet could he not escape. In a -narrow place Sir Calidore overtook him and compelled him to turn. Sore -was the conflict between these two, for the beast ran at the knight with -open mouth, set with a double range of iron teeth, between which were a -thousand tongues giving out dreadful cries as of all manner of beasts, -tongues of serpents also spitting out poison, and of all other venomous -things that are upon the earth. Not one whit dismayed, the knight ran in -upon him, and when the monster lifted himself up on his hind legs, and -would have rent him with his claws, he threw his shield between and held -him down. Vainly did the beast rage and strive to lift himself from the -ground; the more he strove, the more hardly and heavily did the knight -press upon him. At the last, when the creature’s strength now failed -him, the knight put a great muzzle of iron with many links in his mouth, -so that he should no more send forth those evil voices. And to the -muzzle he fastened a long chain with which he led him, he following as a -dog, so utterly was he subdued. Through all Fairyland he led him, the -people thronging out of their towns to see him, and much admiring the -knight who, by his great strength and valour, had subdued so foul and -fierce a creature. - -’Tis true that in after days, whether by some evil chance or by the -folly of those who had charge of the monster, these bonds were broken; -for even now the creature wanders about the world doing great harm to -all estates of men. For it must be known that his name is Slander. - -But in the good times of old it was not so. So did Sir Calidore fulfil -his quest. And afterwards he lived in all happiness, as became so brave -and loyal a knight, with his wedded wife, the fair Pastorella. - - - - - FOOTNOTES - - -[1]The story may be read at length in _Stories from the Greek - Tragedians_. Briefly put, it is this: Hercules slew the Centaur who - would have carried off his promised wife. The dying monster gave his - mantle, dyed as it was with his blood, to the woman, saying: “Keep - this as my last gift: it will be a sure means of keeping your - husband’s love.” In after years the woman, thinking that her husband - had ceased to love her, sent him the robe as a gift, and he, putting - it on, was so grievously burned by the poison that he died. - -[2]Adikia = Unrighteousness. - - - - - BOOKS BY ALFRED J. CHURCH - - THE ODYSSEY FOR BOYS AND GIRLS - THE ILIAD FOR BOYS AND GIRLS - TOLD FROM HOMER - _With colored illustrations. Each, 12mo, $1.50_ - THE STORY OF THE ILIAD - THE STORY OF THE ODYSSEY - _Cloth, 12mo, with illustrations after Flaxman. Each, $1.00_ - _In the new Standard School Library, without illustrations, each, 50 - cents._ - - - THE BURNING OF ROME - A Story of the days of Nero. 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margin-right:auto; max-width:25em; } - - dl.int { margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto; max-width:25em; } - dl.int dt {margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; } - dl.int dd {margin-left:2em; } - - h1.pg { margin-top: 0em; - margin-bottom: 1em; - max-width: 80%; - clear: both; } - h2.pg { margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 1em; - max-width: 80%; - font-size: 135%; - clear: both; } - h3.pg { max-width: 80%; - clear: both; } - p.pg { margin-left: 10%; - max-width: 80%; } - hr.full { width: 80%; - margin-top: 3em; - margin-bottom: 0em; - margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto; - height: 4px; - border-width: 4px 0 0 0; /* remove all borders except the top one */ - border-style: solid; - border-color: #000000; - clear: both; } -</style> -</head> -<body> -<h1 class="pg">The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Faery Queen and Her Knights, by Alfred -John Church</h1> -<p class="pg">This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States -and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no -restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it -under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this -eBook or online at <a -href="http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you are not -located in the United States, you'll have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this ebook.</p> -<p class="pg">Title: The Faery Queen and Her Knights</p> -<p class="pg"> Stories Retold from Edmund Spenser</p> -<p class="pg">Author: Alfred John Church</p> -<p class="pg">Release Date: October 17, 2017 [eBook #55765]</p> -<p class="pg">Language: English</p> -<p class="pg">Character set encoding: UTF-8</p> -<p class="pg">***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FAERY QUEEN AND HER KNIGHTS***</p> -<p> </p> -<h3 class="pg">E-text prepared by Juliet Sutherland, Stephen Hutcheson,<br /> - and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> - (http://www.pgdp.net)</h3> -<p> </p> -<hr class="full" /> -<p> </p> -<p> </p> -<p> </p> - -<div class="img"> -<img class="cover" id="coverpage" src="images/cover.jpg" alt="The Faery Queen and Her Knights" width="600" height="696" /> -</div> -<p class="center">THE FAERY QUEEN -<br />AND HER KNIGHTS</p> -<p class="center small">THE MACMILLAN COMPANY -<br /><span class="smaller">NEW YORK · BOSTON · CHICAGO -<br />ATLANTA · SAN FRANCISCO</span></p> -<p class="center small">MACMILLAN & CO., <span class="sc">Limited</span> -<br /><span class="smaller">LONDON · BOMBAY · CALCUTTA -<br />MELBOURNE</span></p> -<p class="center small">THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, <span class="sc">Ltd.</span> -<br /><span class="smaller">TORONTO</span></p> -<div class="img" id="pic1"> -<img src="images/p_01_p004.jpg" alt="" width="703" height="1103" /> -<p class="caption"><span class="sc">The Slaying of the Dragon.</span></p> -</div> -<div class="box"> -<h1>THE FAERY QUEEN -<br /><span class="smaller">AND HER KNIGHTS</span></h1> -<p class="center"><span class="smaller">STORIES -<br />RETOLD FROM</span> -<br />EDMUND SPENSER</p> -<p class="tbcenter"><span class="smaller">BY THE</span> -<br /><span class="sc">Rev.</span> ALFRED J. CHURCH, M.A. -<br /><span class="smaller">Author of “Stories from Homer”</span></p> -<p class="tbcenter"><span class="smaller">WITH ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR</span></p> -<p class="tbcenter"><span class="small">NEW YORK</span> -<br />THE MACMILLAN COMPANY -<br /><span class="small">1909</span> -<br /><span class="smaller"><i>All rights reserved</i></span></p> -</div> -<p class="center small"><span class="sc">Copyright, 1909, -<br />By THE MACMILLAN COMPANY.</span> -<br />Set up and electrotyped. Published October, 1909.</p> -<p class="center small"><b><i>Norwood Press</i></b> -<br />J. S. Cushing Co.—Berwick & Smith Co. -<br />Norwood, Mass., U.S.A.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_v">v</div> -<h2>CONTENTS</h2> -<dl class="toc"> -<dt class="jr"><span class="jl"><span class="small">CHAP.</span></span> <span class="small">PAGE</span></dt> -<dt><span class="cn">I. </span><a href="#c1"><span class="sc">The Red-Cross Knight</span></a> 1</dt> -<dt><span class="cn">II. </span><a href="#c2"><span class="sc">Archimage and Duessa</span></a> 7</dt> -<dt><span class="cn">III. </span><a href="#c3"><span class="sc">The Fortunes of Una</span></a> 16</dt> -<dt><span class="cn">IV. </span><a href="#c4"><span class="sc">Of what befell at the House of Pride</span></a> 24</dt> -<dt><span class="cn">V. </span><a href="#c5"><span class="sc">How the Red-Cross Knight leaves the Castle of Pride</span></a> 29</dt> -<dt><span class="cn">VI. </span><a href="#c6"><span class="sc">The Lady Una and the Satyrs</span></a> 35</dt> -<dt><span class="cn">VII. </span><a href="#c7"><span class="sc">Of the Giant Orgoglio</span></a> 42</dt> -<dt><span class="cn">VIII. </span><a href="#c8"><span class="sc">Of the Deeds of Prince Arthur</span></a> 49</dt> -<dt><span class="cn">IX. </span><a href="#c9"><span class="sc">Of the House of Holiness</span></a> 55</dt> -<dt><span class="cn">X. </span><a href="#c10"><span class="sc">Of the Slaying of the Dragon</span></a> 64</dt> -<dt><span class="cn">XI. </span><a href="#c11"><span class="sc">Of Sir Guyon and the Lady Medina</span></a> 71</dt> -<dt><span class="cn">XII. </span><a href="#c12"><span class="sc">How Sir Guyon came into Great Peril</span></a> 77</dt> -<dt><span class="cn">XIII. </span><a href="#c13"><span class="sc">Of Two Pagan Knights</span></a> 89</dt> -<dt><span class="cn">XIV. </span><a href="#c14"><span class="sc">Of Queen Acrasia</span></a> 96</dt> -<dt><span class="cn">XV. </span><a href="#c15"><span class="sc">Britomart</span></a> 102</dt> -<dt><span class="cn">XVI. </span><a href="#c16"><span class="sc">Of Merlin’s Magic Mirror</span></a> 109</dt> -<dt><span class="cn">XVII. </span><a href="#c17"><span class="sc">How Britomart took to Arms</span></a> 117</dt> -<dt><span class="cn">XVIII. </span><a href="#c18"><span class="sc">Sir Scudamore and Amoret</span></a> 127</dt> -<dt><span class="cn">XIX. </span><a href="#c19"><span class="sc">Of Sir Paridell and Others</span></a> 135</dt> -<dt><span class="cn">XX. </span><a href="#c20"><span class="sc">The Story of Canacé and the Three Brothers</span></a> 142</dt> -<dt><span class="cn">XXI. </span><a href="#c21"><span class="sc">The Story of Florimell</span></a> 153</dt> -<dt><span class="cn">XXII. </span><a href="#c22"><span class="sc">Of the False Florimell</span></a> 160</dt> -<dt><span class="cn">XXIII. </span><a href="#c23"><span class="sc">Sir Satyrane’s Tournament</span></a> 168</dt> -<dt><span class="cn">XXIV. </span><a href="#c24"><span class="sc">Of Florimell’s Girdle</span></a> 176</dt> -<dt><span class="cn">XXV. </span><a href="#c25"><span class="sc">Of Britomart and Artegall</span></a> 180</dt> -<dt><span class="cn">XXVI. </span><a href="#c26"><span class="sc">Of the Fortunes of Amoret</span></a> 190</dt> -<dt><span class="cn">XXVII. </span><a href="#c27"><span class="sc">Of Sir Artegall and the Knight Sanglier</span></a> 197</dt> -<dt><span class="cn">XXVIII. </span><a href="#c28"><span class="sc">Of Other Adventures of Sir Artegall</span></a> 202</dt> -<dt><span class="cn">XXIX. </span><a href="#c29"><span class="sc">Sir Artegall does Justice</span></a> 214</dt> -<dt><span class="cn">XXX. </span><a href="#c30"><span class="sc">Radigund</span></a> 221</dt> -<dt><span class="cn">XXXI. </span><a href="#c31"><span class="sc">How Sir Artegall was Delivered</span></a> 233</dt> -<dt><span class="cn">XXXII. </span><a href="#c32"><span class="sc">Of the Knave Malengin</span></a> 247</dt> -<dt><span class="cn">XXXIII. </span><a href="#c33"><span class="sc">Of the Lady Belgé</span></a> 252</dt> -<dt><span class="cn">XXXIV. </span><a href="#c34"><span class="sc">Of Sir Artegall and Grantorto</span></a> 263</dt> -<dt><span class="cn">XXXV. </span><a href="#c35"><span class="sc">Of Sir Calidore and the Lady Briana</span></a> 270</dt> -<dt><span class="cn">XXXVI. </span><a href="#c36"><span class="sc">Of the Valour of Tristram</span></a> 278</dt> -<dt><span class="cn">XXXVII. </span><a href="#c37"><span class="sc">Sir Calepine and the Lady Serena</span></a> 286</dt> -<dt><span class="cn">XXXVIII. </span><a href="#c38"><span class="sc">Of Sir Calidore and Pastorella</span></a> 294</dt> -<dt><span class="cn">XXXIX. </span><a href="#c39"><span class="sc">The End of Sir Calidore’s Quest</span></a> 301</dt> -</dl> -<div class="pb" id="Page_vii">vii</div> -<h2><span class="h2line1">LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</span></h2> -<dl class="toc"> -<dt><a href="#pic1"><span class="sc">The Slaying of the Dragon</span></a> <i>Frontispiece</i></dt> -<dt class="jr"><span class="small">FACING PAGE</span></dt> -<dt><a href="#pic2"><span class="sc">The Red-Cross Knight and Sansfoy</span></a> 10</dt> -<dt><a href="#pic3"><span class="sc">The Lady Una and the Lion</span></a> 20</dt> -<dt><a href="#pic4"><span class="sc">Sir Guyon and the Men in Bestial Shapes</span></a> 100</dt> -<dt><a href="#pic5"><span class="sc">Agapé approaching the Dwelling of the Fates</span></a> 142</dt> -<dt><a href="#pic6"><span class="sc">Sir Scudamore overthrown by Britomart</span></a> 184</dt> -<dt><a href="#pic7"><span class="sc">Sir Artegall and the Saracen</span></a> 204</dt> -<dt><a href="#pic8"><span class="sc">Prince Arthur slaying the Seneschal</span></a> 256</dt> -</dl> -<div class="pb" id="Page_1">1</div> -<h1 title="">THE FAERY QUEEN -<br /><span class="smaller">AND HER KNIGHTS</span></h1> -<h2 id="c1"><span class="h2line1">CHAPTER I</span> -<br /><span class="h2line2">THE RED-CROSS KNIGHT</span></h2> -<p>Once upon a time there might have been seen -a gentle Knight, riding across the plain. He -was clad in armour of proof, and on his arm he -carried a silver shield. A shield it was that brave -men had carried before him, for there were great -dints upon it, which were as a witness of great -fights that had been fought. Now the Knight himself -had never yet been in battle; but he seemed -as one who could bear himself bravely, so well did -he sit upon his horse, and so stout of limb he was. -On his breast he wore a cross, red as blood, in -token that he was vowed to serve the Lord Christ, -who had died for him; and on his shield was yet -another cross, to be as it were a sign that this -service should be a defence to him in all dangers. -Somewhat sad of look he was, not as though he -had fear in his heart, but rather as one upon whom -had been laid the burden of a great task. And -such, in truth, there was, for Queen Gloriana had -sent him upon a great enterprise, and all his heart -was full of the thought of how he should best accomplish -it. And the task was this—to slay the -Great Dragon.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_2">2</div> -<p>Beside the Knight a lady was riding on an ass -as white as snow. Very fair she was; but she hid -her fairness under a veil, which was brought low -over her face. She was clad also in a garment of -black; and she, too, was somewhat sad of look, -nor, indeed, without cause. She came of a royal -stock, being descended from ancient kings and -queens, who had held wide sway in their land -until this same Dragon had driven out their ancient -house and had cruelly wasted all their realm. The -third of this company was a Dwarf, who lagged -behind, wearied, it may be, with the weight of the -bag in which he bore this fair lady’s gear.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_3">3</div> -<p>While the three, to wit the Knight, and the Lady, -and the Dwarf, passed on, the sky was suddenly -covered with clouds, and there began to fall a great -storm of rain, so that they were fain to seek some -shelter. Gladly, then, did they espy a wood hard -by that promised, so thickly grown it was, a shelter -from the rain. Tall were the trees and spreading -wide with shady branches, so that neither sun by -day nor star by night could pierce through. And -all about were paths and ways, worn as by the -treading of many feet, which seemed to lead to -the abodes of men—a fairer place of shelter, as it -seemed, there scarce could be. So they passed -along, the birds singing sweetly the while; overhead -were trees of many kinds, trees of the forest -and of the orchard, the cedar and the oak, and the -elm with the vine clinging to its stem, the yew for -bows, and the birch for arrows, and the fruitful -olive. So fair was the place, and so full of delights, -that the travellers took no heed of the way by -which they went. So it came to pass that they -strayed from the path by which they first entered -the wood, nor could they win to it again when once -they had left it, so many were the ways and so like -the one to the other. After a time, when they had -taken counsel together, it seemed best to choose -the way which seemed most trodden by the feet -of travellers, as being the likeliest to lead to a -certain end. When they had followed this awhile, -they came to a great cave, deep in the very thicket -of the wood. Here the Knight sprang from his -horse, and gave to the Dwarf his spear, thinking -that he should not need it. But his sword he -kept.</p> -<p>Then said the Lady Una, for that was her name: -“Be not overbold, Sir Knight; there may be -mischief here of which you know nothing, peril -which gives no sign of itself, even as a fire which -burns without smoke; hold back, I pray you, till -you have made some trial of the place.”</p> -<p>The Knight made reply: “Fair lady, it were a -shame to fall back for fear of a shadow. The cave, -doubtless, is dark, but where there is courage there -is not wanting a light for the feet.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_4">4</div> -<p>Then said the Lady again: “Nay, nay, Sir -Knight; I know this place by repute, though I -thought not of it before. This wood in which we -are lost is the Wood of Wandering; this cave -which you see before you is the Den of Error, a -monster, hateful both to God and man. Beware, -therefore, beware!” And the Dwarf cried out -aloud in his fear: “Fly, Sir Knight, fly, this is no -place for mortal man.”</p> -<p>But the Knight would not be persuaded. He -stepped into the cave, and the light of day, shining -from without on his armour, showed him dimly the -monster that was within. Hideous it was to behold, -half a serpent and half a woman, and all as foul as -ever creature was, upon the earth or under it. All -the length of the cave she lay, her tail wound in -many coils; and in every coil there was a deadly -sting. And all round her was a brood of young -ones. Many different shapes they had, but hideous -all. And as soon as the light from the Knight’s -armour glimmered through the darkness, they fled -for shelter to the mouth of their dam.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_5">5</div> -<p>The monster, wakened from her sleep, curled -her tail about her head, and rushed to the cavern’s -mouth, but, seeing one armed from top to toe in -shining mail, would have turned again. But the -Knight leaped at her, fierce as a lion leaps upon -his prey, and barred her backward way with his -sword. First she darted at him her great tail, and -threatened him with the deadly sting that lay in it; -but he, not one whit dismayed, aimed at her head -a mighty blow. Her head it wounded not, but -glanced on to the neck with force so great that for -a while the great beast was stunned. Then, coming -to herself, she raised her body high from the ground, -and leaped upon the Knight’s shield, and wrapped -his body round with huge folds.</p> -<p>Then Una, seeing in how sore plight he was, -cried out: “Now show, Sir Knight, what you are. -Put out all your force, and, above all things, back -your force with faith, and be not faint. Strangle -this monster, or surely she will strangle you!”</p> -<p>Greatly was his heart stirred within him with -grief and anger, and, knitting all his strength -together, he gripped the creature by the throat so -mightily that she was constrained to loosen the -bonds which she had cast about him. And yet, it -had well-nigh cost him dear to come so close to the -monster, so foul she was. And of this foulness the -worst was this, that she caused to come forth out of -her mouth, as in a flood, the brood which had taken -shelter therein at the first. Serpents they were, -like to their dam, small indeed, but full of venom, -and they swarmed over him, twining themselves -about his arms and legs, so that he could not strike -a blow nor even move. So, in some still eventide, -a shepherd, sitting to watch his flock, is suddenly -assailed by a cloud of gnats; feeble creatures they -are, and slight their sting, but they suffer him not -to rest. The Red-Cross Knight was in a strait -more dire, for these evil creatures had power to do -him a more grievous harm. But he thought to -himself, “Shall I be vanquished in this fashion?” -He was somewhat moved by the danger wherein he -stood, but more ashamed that he should be overcome -in so foul a fashion. So, resolved in his -heart that he would put all his strength into a -stroke, either to win or to lose, he gathered himself -together, and struck the monster with a blow so -fierce that he shore the head from the body, and -she fell dead upon the ground.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_6">6</div> -<p>Then said the Lady Una: “Well, indeed, have -you carried yourself, Sir Knight. Surely you were -born under a lucky star, seeing that you have -overcome so terrible a foe. You are worthy of -these arms wherewith you are clad. So is your -first adventure brought to a good result. God -grant that you have many such in the time to -come, and that they may be brought to as happy -an ending.”</p> -<p>Then the Knight sprang upon his horse, and -the Lady Una mounted again her ass, and the -Dwarf followed as before. And now they kept -with steadfast purpose to the one way which they -saw to be most trodden, turning neither to the right -nor to the left, how fair soever the path might -seem. So at last they came to the outskirts of -the Wandering Wood, and journeyed once more -across the plain.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_7">7</div> -<h2 id="c2"><span class="h2line1">CHAPTER II</span> -<br /><span class="h2line2">ARCHIMAGE AND DUESSA</span></h2> -<p>So the two, the Knight and the Lady, rode on, -the Dwarf following as before. After a while -they chanced to meet an old man by the road. He -was clothed in black and barefooted, and he had a -long white beard, and a book was hanging from his -belt. A very wise old man he seemed, sober and -even somewhat sad, and as he went along he seemed -to be praying; and now and again he would beat -upon his breast, saying, “God be merciful to me a -sinner!” He made a humble reverence to the -Knight, and the Knight in his courtesy made his -salute, and said: “Sir, do you know of any adventure -that a Christian man may undertake?”</p> -<p>“My son,” said the old man, “how should one -who lives in his cell and tells his beads and does -penance for his sins know aught of wars and enterprises -by which glory may be won? Nevertheless, -I can tell of a very evil man who dwells in these -forests and wastes all the country-side.”</p> -<p>“Ah!” cried the Knight, “it is for such an -adventure, the setting right of wrong, that I seek. -Bring me to this villain’s dwelling and I will reward -you well.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_8">8</div> -<p>“Willingly,” said the old man, “will I guide you -thither, but the way is long and painful.”</p> -<p>“And surely,” said the Lady Una, “you are -wearied with your late encounter. I take it that -he who lacks rest lacks strength, however stout -of limb he be. Take your rest then with the sun, -and begin your new work with the new day.”</p> -<p>“This is wise counsel, Sir Knight,” said the old -man, “and wise counsel ever wins the day. The -day is far spent; come, then, and take such poor -entertainment as my home can give.”</p> -<p>With this the Knight was well content. So -they followed the old man to his dwelling. It was -a lowly hermitage, in a valley, close to the forest, -with a chapel hard by, and by this chapel a brook -crystal clear. Humble was their fare, but the -rest after the day’s toil made it sweet enough, as -also did the old man’s talk, for he discoursed of -many things and many men, saints and popes, and -the great deeds which they had done. Then, as -the night drew on and sleep began to fall upon -their eyes, he showed them the places where they -should lodge for the night.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_9">9</div> -<p>Now this old man, who seemed so pious and -good, with his long white beard, and his prayers, -and his beating of his breast, was really a wicked -magician. So soon as he had taken his guests to -their lodgings, he went to his study, where he kept -his books of charms with other contrivances of his -art, and taking one of these books from the shelf -on which it stood, opened it, and began to mutter -some dreadful words which it were a great sin for -anyone to write or read. With these he brought -up from their dwelling-place in the lower parts of -the earth a very legion of evil spirits. To these he -gave a part of his evil work to do, and some of this -work he kept to himself; and the work was this: -To cheat the hearts of those whom he wished to -deceive with false dreams and visions. What these -were, it is best not to tell: let it be enough to say -that they wrought such doubts concerning the Lady Una -in the heart of the Red-Cross Knight that, as soon as -the morning dawned, he rose from his bed, and clothed -himself with all haste, and crying for the Dwarf that he -should bring him his horse, rode away as fast as the beast -could carry him.</p> -<p>He had not ridden many miles before there met -him a paynim knight. A tall warrior and a strong -he was, armed from top to toe, and carrying a great -shield on which were written in scarlet letters the -words “<i>Sans Foy</i>,” which, being interpreted, mean -“Without Faith.” With him there rode a fair lady, -clad also in scarlet, with ornaments of gold and -necklaces of coral, and on her head a Persian cap -set round with crowns of gold. Her horse also had -gay trappings, and her bridle was set with bells of -gold, which tinkled bravely as she rode. So soon -as she saw the Red-Cross Knight she said to her -companion, “See now, here comes your enemy; -make ready.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_10">10</div> -<p>No sooner had she spoken, but he stuck spurs -in his horse, and rode at the Red-Cross Knight. -Nor did the knight hold back from the fray, for he -also put his spear in rest and charged. So the two -met fully and fairly, with so fierce a shock that the -two horses stood, as it were, struck to stone, and -the riders were borne backwards in their saddles, -holding each of them in his hand his broken spear. -Then the Saracen drew his sword from the scabbard, -and addressed himself again to the fray. So did the -Christian also; blow for blow did they deal one to -the other, till the sparks flew from their shields, and -when they chanced to strike home, the blood flowed -forth and dyed the earth under their feet. After a -while cried the Saracen: “Now curse upon that -Cross which keeps your body from harm! You had -been dead long since but for that magic power. -For all that, I bid you now beware, and keep safe -your head if it may be.”</p> -<p>So saying, he dealt a blow so fierce that it shore -away half the Christian’s crest, yet glancing down -upon the shield harmed him no more. Yet was it -not struck in vain, for it roused him of the Red -Cross to such rage that he made a more than like -reply. Full on the Saracen’s helmet he dealt his -stroke. Right through the steel it passed, and -cleft the head, so that the Saracen fell a dead man -from his horse.</p> -<p>When the lady saw her champion fall, not a -moment did she stay to see how it had fared with -him, either to tend his wounds, or to weep for his -death, but fled away as fast as her horse could -carry her. Then the Red-Cross Knight, crying -to the Dwarf that he should pick up the dead man’s -shield to be a memorial of the fight, rode after her, -and overtaking her, bade her halt: “You have no -cause to fear, fair lady,” he said.</p> -<div class="img" id="pic2"> -<img src="images/p_02_p019.jpg" alt="" width="702" height="984" /> -<p class="caption"><span class="sc">The Red Cross Knight and Sansfoy.</span></p> -</div> -<div class="pb" id="Page_11">11</div> -<p>Then she, turning back, cried aloud: “Fair Sir, -have mercy on an unhappy woman!”</p> -<p>Much was he moved to see her humbleness, for -she was beautiful to look on, and richly clad, as one -of noble birth might be. “Lady,” said he, “be of -good heart. It pitieth me to see you in such distress; -tell me now who you are, and whence you come, -and who was this your champion?”</p> -<p>“Sir,” she answered, weeping the while, “I -have suffered much from evil fortune. I was the -only daughter of an emperor, who had wide -dominion over the land of the West, setting his -throne where flows the famous stream of Tiber. -Being such, I was betrothed in my early youth to -the only son and heir of a most wise and mighty -king. Never surely was prince so fair and faithful -as he, never one so gentle and debonair. But alas! -ere the day appointed for our marriage came, my -lord fell into the hands of cruel enemies, and was -most foully slain. When this ill news came to me, -I said to myself: ‘Now will I at least do due -honour to the dear body of him whom I loved.’ -So I set forth from my father’s house upon this -quest. Long did I wander over the world, a virgin -widow, nor did I find that for which I sought. At -last I chanced to meet this Saracen, who now lies -dead upon the plain. He constrained me to go -with him, and would fain have won me for his wife, -but I ever said him nay. And now he lies dead. -An evil man he was, one of an evil brotherhood of -three—Sansloy, the eldest; Sansjoy, the youngest; -and this Sansfoy, of middle age between the two.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_12">12</div> -<p>“Be contented, fair lady,” answered the Knight; -“you have done well. You have found a new -friend and lost an old foe. Friend, be he ever so -new, is better, I trow, than foe, new or old.”</p> -<p>So the two rode on, he making merry with gay -talk, as became a courteous knight, and she, with -much modest show of bashfulness. After a while -they came in their journey to two fair trees, which -spread their branches across the road. Lovely -trees they seemed, and fair was the shade which -they cast. Yet was the place held in ill-repute of -all the country-side; never did shepherd sit beneath -them to rest or play upon his oaten pipe, for all -men held it to be unlucky ground. But of this the -good Knight knew nothing, so, the sun being now -high in heaven, and of so fierce a heat that a man -might scarcely abide it, he dismounted and bade -the lady do likewise, so that they might rest awhile, -and anon, in the cool of the evening, might pursue -their journey. So the two sat them down and talked.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_13">13</div> -<p>Now the Knight, being in a merry mood, said -to himself: “Surely, this is the fairest of women; -it is meet that she should be crowned.” So saying, -he plucked a branch which he would have shaped -into a garland for the lady’s head. Then, lo! from -the place where the branch had been plucked came -trickling drops of blood, and there issued forth a -lamentable voice which said: “Stranger! Tear -not in this cruel fashion the tender human limbs -which are covered by the bark of this tree. Fly -also from the place, fly, lest haply the same fate -should come upon you as came upon me in this -place, both on me and on the dear lady also who -was my love.”</p> -<p>Much was the Knight astonished to hear such -words, and for a while he stood speechless. Then -he said: “What ghost is this from the world below, -what wandering spirit that talks in this strange -fashion?”</p> -<p>Then there came this answer: “No ghost am I -from the nether world, nor wandering spirit of the -air. I was a man, Fradubio by name, as now I am -a tree, being charmed by the arts of a wicked -witch. But I am yet a man, for I feel the winter -cold and the summer heat in these branches, even -as a man might feel.”</p> -<p>Then said the Knight: “Tell me now, Fradubio, -be you tree or man, how you came to suffer in this -fashion. It is good for a man to tell his trouble; -he who hides it in his heart makes his griefs to be -twice as great.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_14">14</div> -<p>Then did Fradubio tell his tale, “Know, -stranger, that I suffer this trouble through the arts -of a false sorceress, Duessa by name; nor I only, -for she has brought many knights into a like evil -case. In my youth, which indeed is not long -passed, I loved a fair lady, whom you may see, -not indeed in the fashion of a lady, but as yonder -tree which joins its branches with these. Once -upon a time, when I was riding abroad with her, I -chanced to meet a knight, who also had a fair lady -for a companion. A fair lady I called her, and so -she seemed, but she was in truth this same false -witch Duessa. Said the strange Knight: ‘I do -declare that this lady is the fairest dame in all the -world, and this I will make good with my sword -and spear against all the world.’ For the witch -had cast her spells over him and deceived him. -And when I put forth the same challenge for my -own lady, we fell to fighting, and he fared so ill, -that he fell by my hand.</p> -<p>“So now there were two fair ladies, for so it -seemed, Fraelissa, who was fair in truth, and -Duessa, who by her wicked arts had made herself -so to seem. And I knew not to which I should -give the prize of beauty, for it seemed the due of -each. But while I doubted, this wicked witch -raised by evil arts such a mist as made Fraelissa’s -face to lose all its fairness. Which when she had -accomplished, she cried: ‘See now how this false -dame has lost her beauty, for indeed it was but -borrowed. Many has she deceived in time past, -even as now she has deceived you.’ When I heard -this, I would fain have killed the fair lady that had -been my true love. But this the false Duessa, -feigning compassion, would not suffer. Only with -her magic arts she changed her into that tree which -you see yonder.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_15">15</div> -<p>“Now you must know that for every witch, be -she as crafty as she may, there is one day in every -year when she is constrained to take her true shape. -And on this day I chanced to see Duessa as she -was in truth, old and foul of hue, fouler than one -had thought woman could be. Nor did she fail to -perceive that I had discovered the truth, though -indeed I sought to bear myself as before, having it -in my mind secretly to escape, and fly from her -company. So she practised upon me the same -wicked arts that she had used with my Fraelissa, -changing me into the semblance of a tree. And -here we stand, banished from the company of men, -and wasting weary days and nights.”</p> -<p>“But,” said the Knight, “how long shall this -endure? What is the appointed end of your -sufferings?”</p> -<p>“We must here abide till we shall be bathed in a -living well,” Fradubio made answer.</p> -<p>“Can I find this same well?” asked the Knight.</p> -<p>“That shall be as the Fates may decree,” said -Fradubio.</p> -<p>All this Duessa—who called herself Fidessa—heard, -and knew it for truth. She well-nigh fainted -for fear; but the time for the discovering of her -falseness was not yet.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_16">16</div> -<h2 id="c3"><span class="h2line1">CHAPTER III</span> -<br /><span class="h2line2">THE FORTUNES OF UNA</span></h2> -<p>While the Red-Cross Knight was thus faring, -the Lady Una was not a little troubled -that she should have been so left by her champion. -Never did she cease to search for him, wandering -the while over plain, and forest, and mountain, and -not one whit afraid, however desolate they were.</p> -<p>On a certain day she lighted off the ass, on -which she was wont to ride, and laid herself down -to rest in a solitary place, under the shadow of a -tree; she took the covering from her head, and -laid aside her black cloak; her faithful beast grazed -hard by, for there was much grass in the place. -As she lay, there rushed out of the wood with -which the meadow was circled about a furious lion. -Wild he was with hunger, and was hunting for -prey. And when he saw the royal maid, he ran -greedily at her with open mouth, as if he would -have devoured her; but when he came near, and -saw what manner of maid she was, all his rage -departed from him. He kissed her weary feet, and -licked with his tongue her lily hands, crouching -down before her as if to show himself her servant. -At the first sight of the beast the Lady Una was -not a little afraid, but when she saw how gently he -bore himself, she sighed and said: “See now, how -this lion, who is the king of the forest, forgets his -hunger and his rage in pity of my sad state, while -he who was my champion leaves me to wander -alone.” So she spake till she could speak no more -for very tears, and the lion meanwhile stood looking -upon her. Then—for the lady was of a brave spirit—she -shut up her sorrows in her heart, and mounted -on her steed again, and set out once more upon her -quest. It was a long and weary way which she -went, through divers places, where there were no -inhabitants, and still the lion went with her, ready -to guard her against all dangers. While she slept, -he watched over her, and when she awaked he -awaited her command, watching her eyes so that -he might discern her pleasure.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_17">17</div> -<p>After long journeying, in which they saw no -sign of the presence of man, they came to a place -which, from the wearing of the grass, seemed to be -trodden by human feet. And in no long time the -lady espied a woman, who was following the path -with slow steps, and carrying on her head a pitcher -of water. The lady cried to her, “Tell me now, -my friend, whether there may be any dwelling near -to hand, where I may rest awhile?” But the -woman answered her never a word, seeming as if -she could neither understand nor speak. But when, -turning her eyes, she saw the lion by the lady’s side, -she threw down her pitcher, and fled as fast as her -feet could carry her. Not once did she look behind -her, but fled as if for her life till she came to the -house where she dwelt with her mother, a blind -woman. Not a word did she say, but her fear was -plain to see, and the old woman perceived that -there was some great danger at hand, so when they -two had shut the door they hid themselves in the -darkest corner of the cottage.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_18">18</div> -<p>In a short space of time came Una and her lion -to the door. Thereat the lady knocked, but when -no one answered, and the time was passing, the lion -in his impatience rent the wicket-gate with his -claws and let her in. No further hurt did he, and -when Una had with much gentle speech allayed the -women’s fear, they laid themselves down to sleep.</p> -<p>But when the night was far spent, there came -one to the door demanding entrance, and when this -was not speedily given him, using many oaths and -curses. He was a sturdy thief, by name Kirkrapine, -that is to say, Robber of Churches, and this -indeed was his trade. He was wont to steal away -the ornaments of churches, and to strip off from the -images of the saints the vestments with which they -were clad, and to purloin the robes of the priests, -and to break open the boxes in which were put the -alms for the poor. No small share of the plunder -did he bring to the house where Una lay that night, -for he was the lover of the old woman’s daughter, -and he could never give her enough of gold and -jewels and precious things. But whether the old -woman knew of the matter none can tell, though it -might have seemed that such doings were not to -her mind, seeing that she told her beads and prayed -both by day and by night; nine hundred Paternosters -would she say daily, and of Ave Marias twice as -many. Thrice in the week, also, did she sit in ashes; -thrice three times she fasted from all food and drink, -and she wore sackcloth nearest to her skin.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_19">19</div> -<p>Now when this same Kirkrapine found that, for -all his cursing, he could not win an entrance, for, -indeed, though the women heard him, they were -hindered from rising by fear of the lion, he let fly -furiously at the door and brake it down, and would -have entered. But as he was about to cross the -threshold, the beast, thinking that his lady was in -danger, sprang at him, and brought him to the -ground, and so tore him that he died, which, having -done, the lion came back to his place by the lady’s -side, and watched her as before.</p> -<p>When the day broke, the Lady Una rose from -her place, and went forth from the cottage, and -journeyed onwards still seeking the Knight, and -the lion went with her. The old woman also and -her daughter, so soon as the house was clear of its -guests, rose up. But when they found Kirkrapine -lying dead before the door, great was their grief -and greater still their anger.</p> -<p>“This,” they cried, “the savage beast has done,” -and they followed with all the speed they might -use, and so overtook her. Harm her they might -not, for they feared the lion, and when they had -cursed her loud and long they turned back to go to -their own house.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_20">20</div> -<p>As they went they met a knight, fully clad in -armour. But yet he was no knight but only the -wizard Archimage, who had taken upon himself, by -help of his wicked arts, the semblance of the Red-Cross -Knight. The false knight asked them -whether they had seen a lady journeying alone.</p> -<p>“Yea,” the old woman answered, “such I have -seen; an evil woman she is, and much harm hath -she wrought.” And she told a piteous tale of the -things which she had suffered. This done, she -showed him the way by which he must go, if he -would overtake the lady, and he, having thanked -her with due courtesy, rode on. Nor was it long -before he overtook the Lady Una, for she, having -but an ass for her steed, travelled slowly. When -she saw him, and noted the Red Cross on his shield -and the like emblem on his breast, she said to -herself: “Now God be thanked, I see my true -champion again,” and she rode to meet him, and -greeted him with friendly words, saying: “Where -have you been these weary days, my lord? I have -fared ill without your company,” and she told him -of all the troubles and dangers through which she -had passed.</p> -<p>On the other hand, the false knight spoke her -fair: “For this cause I left you, dearest lady, that -I might seek an adventure of which Archimage -told me, and how I might deal with a felon who -had done great harm to many gallant knights. -And, indeed, I did deal with him, so that he shall -hurt such knights no more. I pray you, fair lady, -to pardon me that I left you awhile, even for such -cause, and to take me once more as your faithful -servant and champion.”</p> -<div class="img" id="pic3"> -<img src="images/p_03_p031.jpg" alt="" width="717" height="986" /> -<p class="caption"><span class="sc">The Lady Una and the Lion.</span></p> -</div> -<div class="pb" id="Page_21">21</div> -<p>So the two rode on together. They had not -travelled many miles when they saw coming to -them, riding at the full speed of his horse a knight -fully armed. When he came near they saw that -he was a man of very fierce aspect, and that he -carried on his shield the name <i>Sansloy</i>. Fierce -as he was of look, he grew fiercer yet when he -perceived the false knight’s shield, how it had the -badge of the Red Cross. Not a word did he -speak, but he laid his spear in rest and rode -fiercely forward.</p> -<p>Sorely dismayed was Archimage, and loath to -meet the stranger in battle, for, indeed, he was -not used to bearing arms. Yet could he not -hold back for very shame. The Lady Una also -looked at him that he should bear himself bravely. -But it fared ill with him, and, indeed, it would have -fared worse but that his steed, being no less -timorous than himself, held back in the onset, so -that the shock of their meeting was the less fierce. -Nevertheless, he was thrown to the ground, where -he lay helpless and without defence.</p> -<p>The strange knight leapt lightly from his horse, -and made as though he would have slain his adversary. -“Ha!” he cried, “so he that slew the -brave knight Sansfoy, my brother, has come by -his deserts. Sansfoy he slew, and by Sansloy he -shall be slain!”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_22">22</div> -<p>Then he began to unlace the man’s helmet as -he lay upon the ground, but the Lady Una cried, -“Oh, Sir Knight, hold your hand; is it not enough -that you have vanquished him? He lies there at -your mercy. Therefore have mercy upon him. -Verily there is not in the whole world a truer -knight than he.” But the stranger had no mind -to hold his hand, for, indeed, he had no compassion -within his heart. But when he had ended the -unlacing of the helmet, and was now ready to strike, -he saw the hoary head and wrinkled face of Archimage, -and cried: “What is this that I see, -Archimage, luckless sire? By what ill-fortune -have you come across me in this fashion? Is -the fault with me or with you, that I should -have dealt with a friend as though he were an -enemy?”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_23">23</div> -<p>So he spake, but not a word did the wizard -answer. He lay in a swoon, and the shadow of -death was on his face. And now the Lady Una -had come and was looking into the old man’s face. -Sore dismayed she was and sore vexed; for he -whom she had taken for her champion was a deceiver; -nor could she divine how she might escape -from the hand of this paynim knight. And now -she had to bear yet another grief. For when -Sansloy laid a rude hand upon her and bade her -descend from her steed, and caught away her veil -that he might look upon her face, the lion, not -enduring to see his mistress so handled and treated, -sprang at the knight, but alas! what was he to -withstand a knight clad in armour of proof, with -spear and sword? Soon did Sansloy thrust him -through with the iron point, so that the faithful -beast fell dead upon the ground, and the lady was -left helpless and without defence.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_24">24</div> -<h2 id="c4"><span class="h2line1">CHAPTER IV</span> -<br /><span class="h2line2">OF WHAT BEFELL AT THE HOUSE OF PRIDE</span></h2> -<p>The Red-Cross Knight rode on with the false -Fidessa, not knowing that she was indeed -the witch Duessa, who had changed the unhappy -Fradubio into a tree. After a while they came to -a road which was manifestly much frequented of -men, and following this beheld before them a very -stately palace. “Come,” said Duessa, “let us seek -shelter here, for I am weary with my journeying -and the day is far spent.”</p> -<p>It was, indeed, a very noble house, cunningly -built of bricks laid artfully together without mortar. -It had very lofty walls, but they were as slight as -they were high, overlaid with shining gold, with -many towers rising from them, and goodly galleries -disposed among them, and spacious windows. No -one could blame the skill of the architect that had -planned it, or of the builders that had raised it up, -so fair it was to look upon; yet it was passing -strange that it had been built in a place so ill -chosen, to wit, upon a sandy hill, so that the -foundations were ever slipping away from it; and -when the winds blew upon it it was shaken most -perilously, and the lower parts, for all that they -were painted so as to make a very brave show, were -ruinous and old.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_25">25</div> -<p>They passed by the porter, whose name was -Malvenu, which being interpreted is “Ill come,” -without challenge, and so came into the hall. This -was right richly arrayed with arras and cloth-of-gold, -and was filled from end to end with a great -crowd of people of all sorts and degrees, waiting, -all of them, for a sight of the lady of the house. -These also they passed, as being guests to whom -special honour was due, and so were brought into -the presence of the lady, where she sat with as fair -and richly-clad a company of knights and dames -about her as ever was seen upon the earth. High -on a throne, splendid in royal robes and ornaments -of gold and jewels costly beyond all count, sat the -lady. Fair she was, so fair that throne and robes -and gold and gems were as nothing in comparison -with her beauty. Under her feet was a great -dragon, and in her hand she held a shining mirror -of brass, and her name was Lucifera. She was, -indeed, the Queen of Pride, and all her brave show -was a false seeming, and her kingdom a kingdom of -unrighteousness.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_26">26</div> -<p>The Knight, not knowing what the lady truly -was, and false Duessa, to whom all these things -were well pleasing, being introduced by a certain -usher of the court, Vanity by name, bowed themselves -low before the throne. And the Knight -said, “Lady, we are come to see your royal state, -and to prove the report of your great majesty -which has gone through all the world.” “I thank -you,” said the lady, but in a disdainful way, for -she did not so much as cast her eyes upon them, -nor did she bid them rise. On the other hand, the -knights and ladies set themselves with much heartiness -to entertain the new-comers. The knights -were right glad to welcome among them a companion -so fair and so stalwart, and to the dames the false -Duessa was well known. Nevertheless the Knight -was but ill pleased that the Lady Lucifera should show -such scant courtesy to a stranger. “She is overproud,” -he thought to himself, “and there is too much of vain -show in these her surroundings.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_27">27</div> -<p>While he was thus thinking, the lady rose suddenly -from her place, and said that she would ride -abroad, and bade call for her coach. A stately -coach it was, like to that which, as it was said of -old, Queen Juno rode with six peacocks, spreading -out great starry tails, for horses. Six steeds had -this Queen also, but they were but ill matched, and -on each of them did ride one of the six counsellors -who advised her in affairs of state, and the six were -Idleness, and Gluttony, and Lust, and Avarice, and -Envy, and Anger. The false Duessa followed close -after the Lady Lucifera, for she was of a kindred -spirit, but the Knight, though he knew not all the -truth, yet held aloof from the rout, not liking their -company. When they had tarried awhile in the -fields, breathing the fresh air of the country-side, -they turned back to the palace. There they found -a Saracen knight newly come, who carried on his -shield the name <i>Sansjoy</i>. He was ill-favoured and -ill-conditioned, as one who bore a grudge against -his fellows. But when he saw how the page of the -Red-Cross Knight carried a shield on which was -written the name of <i>Sansfoy</i>, then was he filled with -fury, and sprang upon the lad and wrenched it from -him, which the Red-Cross Knight perceiving, being -ill content so to lose the trophy which he had won -in fair fight, ran at the Saracen, and recovered that -which was his own. Already had they drawn their -swords to fight out their quarrel hand to hand, -when the Queen Lucifera interposed her high command: -“Sirs,” she said, “I command you on pain -of my high displeasure to forbear. To-morrow, if -you will, you shall prove in fair fight to whom this -shield, for which I perceive you contend, in right -belongs. Meanwhile I bid you be at peace.”</p> -<p>“I beg your pardon, noble Queen,” said the -Saracen, “for that I have thus broken the peace -of your court; in truth I could not refrain myself -when I saw this false knight possessing the shield -of the brave <i>Sansfoy</i>, whom he slew not in fair -fight, but by magic arts, ay, and not possessing it -only, but that he might do it dishonour, commanding -that it should be publicly borne.” So spake -Sansjoy, but the Red-Cross Knight said nothing; -he was a man of deeds, not of words. Only he -threw his gauntlet on the ground, to be a pledge -that he would meet his adversary in the field.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_28">28</div> -<p>Then, for evening was now come, all sat down -to the banquet. Right royally did they feast, for -Gluttony was steward that night, and ordered their -meat and drink; and when they had feasted to the -full, they betook themselves to their beds, and -Sloth was their chamberlain. But before she -slept Duessa made Sansjoy aware that she was no -friend to the Red-Cross Knight.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_29">29</div> -<h2 id="c5"><span class="h2line1">CHAPTER V</span> -<br /><span class="h2line2">HOW THE RED-CROSS KNIGHT LEAVES THE CASTLE OF PRIDE</span></h2> -<p>It is ever the way with noble hearts, that they -cannot rest till they have fully accomplished -that which they purpose to do. So all night long -the Red-Cross Knight considered with himself -how he should most wisely bear himself in the -morrow’s fight, and so considering he waited till -the morning light should shine upon the earth. -So soon therefore as the sun appeared in the sky -he rose from his bed, and arrayed himself in his -armour, making ready for his combat with the -Saracen. This done, he descended into the castle -hall, where there was already gathered a great -crowd of men, who had come to see what the -issue of the day should be. There were musicians -making melody on harps and viols, and bards who -were ready to celebrate in song the strength and -valour of him who should win the victory. After -him by no great space of time came the Saracen, -clad in chain armour. Fierce was his look, as -though he would strike fear into his adversary, but -the Knight was of a temper which no looks could -dismay. Then the pages brought in two cups of -wine from Greece, and mingled therein spices from -farthest India, for such was the custom of the -place. It was to kindle the champions’ courage -forsooth, but neither Christian nor Saracen, I take -it, had need of such encouragement. And as they -drank they sware a solemn oath that they would -duly observe the laws of honourable war.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_30">30</div> -<p>This done, the Queen Lucifera came with a -great train of knights and ladies, and took her seat -upon the throne which had been set for her with -a great canopy over it. Before her was an open -space, railed in on every side, that none should be -near either to help or to hinder the champions. -Over against the Queen was set another throne, -of less account and dignity. On this was set false -Duessa. And on a tree hard by was hung the -shield of Sansfoy, and a laurel crown which -should be the conqueror’s meed.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_31">31</div> -<p>And now was heard the shrill note of a trumpet, -and the two champions addressed themselves to -the battle. Each man carried his shield on his -left arm, and took his sword in his right hand, for -such was the order of the fight, that for a speedier -issue they should lay aside their spears and take -at once their swords. Both knights were sturdy -and brave, and long they fought without advantage -gained. Stroke was answered with stroke, while -the sparks flew from either shield, and each helmet -showed the dints where the steel had been well-nigh -broken through. Neither did this champion -or that escape without harm, for the blood was -seen to flow out and dye their coats of mail, but -neither suffered such a wound as to hinder him -from the fight, nor did the crowd that watched -them know which would prevail. And now it -chanced that the Saracen, as he shifted his place, -caught the sight of his brother’s shield, where it -hung upon the tree, to be the conqueror’s prize. -The sight stirred him to a double rage: “Ah! -brother,” he cried, “dost thou sit so long by that -dark lake of death the while thy shield hangs here -to be the prize of victory? Go, caitiff,” so he -cried, as he turned him to the Red-Cross Knight, -“go and tell him that I have redeemed his shield -from shame.” And as he spoke, he smote upon -the crest of the Knight a mightier stroke by far -than he had ever dealt. Twice did the Knight -reel as he stood; twice was he ready to fall; while -all that watched were assured that the battle was -indeed won and lost, and the false Duessa cried -aloud: “Well done, Sansjoy; the shield is yours, -and I and all.” But when the Knight heard the -voice of the lady—for he knew not yet her true -quality—he raised himself from his swoon, and -his faith that had waxed weak grew strong again, -and the chill departed from his limbs. Wrath and -shame and love wrought such new strength within -him, that he struck his foe with a stroke so -mighty that it brought him to his knee. “Ah! -thou miscreant,” he cried, “go now and take yourself -your message to this dear brother, and tell -him that the conqueror has his shield.” But when -he would have dealt yet another blow, and so -ended the fight beyond all doubt, lo! there was a -dark cloud over all the place, and the Saracen -was nowhere to be seen. He called him aloud, -but there came no answer. The darkness had -swallowed him up. Then the false Duessa came -down from her seat and entreated him with many -words: “O most valiant Knight that ever lady -chose for her champion, abate now your rage; -your adversary lies low; be content with your -victory.” But not one whit was his wrath -diminished; willingly would he have driven his -sword-hilt deep into the body of his enemy, so -finishing his work. But nowhere could he espy -him. While he stood wondering, the trumpets -sounded again, now with a note of victory, and -heralds came and paid him homage, making low -obeisance to him, and giving into his hands the -shield. After this they took him to the Queen, -where she sat upon her throne; and he, bending -his knee before her, made proffer of his service, -which she accepted with much courtesy of thanks. -This done, she returned to the palace, having the -Knight by her side, the people following with loud -shouts and much rejoicing.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_32">32</div> -<p>And now, because his wounds were many—for -not without much cost of pain had he won this -victory—they laid him in a bed and bound up his -hurts, pouring in oil and wine, the while the -musicians made sweet music to comfort him in his -sickness. While he thus lay, Duessa resorted to -a certain witch of whom she had knowledge, and -told her of how the Christian Knight had slain -Sansfoy, and now had stricken Sansjoy well-nigh -to death, and prayed her help. So the two returned -together to where the Saracen lay, still -covered with the magic cloud. They bound up -his wounds, and laid him in the witch’s car, and -carried him to hell to the dwelling of Æsculapius. -Now this Æsculapius was a great physician in the -days of old, and because he had brought to life again -a certain man who had been unjustly slain he had -suffered grievous punishment. He could not die, -for he was of immortal race, but he had been struck -down to hell with a thunderbolt. There he had -lain, age after age, striving, if it might be, to heal -his own hurts. To him, therefore, the witch and -Duessa brought Sansjoy, and prayed him that he -would recover him of his deadly hurt. “Nay, -nay,” said he, “you ask what may not be. You -tempt me to do again the very thing for which I suffer -all this pain. Shall I again, with a like deed, renew -the wrath of him that so dealt with me?”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_33">33</div> -<p>The witch made answer: “What more can you -suffer than you have suffered already? You hope -for nothing; what then should you fear? You are -in this lowest deep; is there a lower to which you -can fall? Deny not my prayer; rather show the -power which has given you your great renown in -heaven and on earth and in hell itself.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_34">34</div> -<p>“Be it so,” he said. So they brought the -knight, and the great physician used all his arts, -applying to the man’s wound all the healing powers -that he knew. Then Duessa, having accomplished -her purpose, so far as it might be done, journeyed -back to the Palace of Pride, but when she came -thither she found that the Red-Cross Knight had -departed.</p> -<p>Now the cause of his going was this. He was -not, indeed, fit for travel, nor had his wounds been -duly healed, but he might not stay, having heard -what his faithful Dwarf had told him; and the thing -was this, that there were dungeons beneath this fair -castle, with all its splendid furnishing, in which lay -a crowd of prisoners in most miserable plight, men -of the old times and of the new, such as were -Nimrod the great hunter, and the lords of Babylon -and Nineveh, and great chiefs of Rome, all who by -wicked pride had sinned against God and man. -This had the watchful Dwarf espied. And when -the Knight heard the tale he would tarry no longer, -but that very hour, while it was yet dark, for it -would have gone ill with him had he been espied, -he fled from the castle. By a bye-way he fled, and -lo! it was so full of the corpses of men that he and -the Dwarf could scarce make their way, for though -the castle was fair in all its public parts, those that -were secret were foul beyond all thinking.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_35">35</div> -<h2 id="c6"><span class="h2line1">CHAPTER VI</span> -<br /><span class="h2line2">THE LADY UNA AND THE SATYRS</span></h2> -<p>Though the wizard Archimage was an ill companion -for the Lady Una, yet was Sansloy, by -whom he was overthrown, a worse. They had not -travelled together far when he said, “Lady, deign, -I pray you, to show me that fair face of yours. I -would fain know for whom I have done battle. -Yours, I ween, is such beauty as the old villain -whom I overthrew was not worthy to take in -charge.” And when she answered him not a word, -he stretched forth a lawless hand, and would have -torn the veil from her face. Then she cried aloud. -“Ay,” said he, “cry if you will; there is none to -help you here.” But even while he spoke there -came running out of the wood, which was hard by, -a great multitude of strange creatures, fauns and -satyrs, half man and half beast. They were -dancing and making merry in the forest, which is -their natural dwelling-place, and when they heard -the cry, one said to another: “This is the cry of -some mortal in distress, and it has the note of a -woman’s voice; let us see what is the cause.” So -they made all haste to the place from which the -cry came. And when the Saracen beheld them he -was sore afraid. Such creatures he had never seen -in all his life; so he sprang upon his horse, and fled -as fast as he could. Nor, indeed, was the Lady -Una wholly quit of her fears. So it may chance -that when a wolf carries off a lamb, and drops it for -fear of a lion, the lamb may be in no better case. -But when the strange creatures saw by the lady’s -face that she was sore afraid, they tried to show -their goodwill towards her; they threw themselves -upon the ground and kissed her feet, and sought to -show her that they were her dutiful servants. So, -gathering courage, she raised herself from the earth -on which she had thrown herself in fear and distress, -and made signs that she would go with them. So -they led her through the wood, dancing and shouting -and singing; and some strewed branches of trees -on the ground before her, and one, who was a chief -among them, put a crown of olive leaves about her -head. So they led her to their chief Sylvanus, and -he, waked from his sleep by their shouting, came -forth to meet them, leaning on a staff of cypress -wood, and having a rope of ivy knitted about his -middle. When he saw her, much did he marvel -who she could be. “This is not Venus,” he said -to himself, “for Venus never was in so sober a -mood; no, nor Diana, for I see not her bow and -arrows and the buskins up to her knee.” And -while he stood and wondered, the nymphs flocked -in to see, nymphs of the fountains and the woods, -and they whose lives are bound to a single tree, -living while it lives and dying when it dies. Nor -were they less astonished, but they were ill pleased -that one so fair should come among them: “Who -of the wood folk,” they said to themselves, “will -think of us when this mortal maid is near?”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_36">36</div> -<p>Many days Lady Una tarried with this strange -folk, and not unwillingly, for it was as it were a -breathing time, giving her rest from the long toil of -her journey. And while she tarried she strove to -the utmost to teach them something of the Christian -faith: but ever she had much ado to keep them -from the worshipping of herself. And when she -had scarcely kept them from this, they turned to -worship her ass.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_37">37</div> -<p>After a while there came into these parts a -certain knight, Satyrane by name, so called because -he was the son of a prince among the satyrs, but -his mother was of the race of men. He was -brought up in the woods, far from all human company; -nor did he learn letters or any craft whatsoever, -but only to be ever of a good courage and to -banish fear. So he would lay his hand on lions -and bears, and tame the wild bulls of the forest, -riding on them as one might ride upon a horse. -And he grew to be so swift of foot that he would -overtake the roebuck in his flight. ’Tis said that -once when his mother came to see him, for she had -gone back to dwell with her own kind, she saw him -carrying in his arms the cubs of a lioness which he -had carried away from their dam, while the -creature, in its rage, followed him, roaring aloud, -yet dared not spring, so well did all the beasts of -the forest know and fear him. When he grew to -years of manhood he was not content with the -conquest over wild beasts, or with life in the wood -far from man. He went therefore into distant -lands seeking adventures, in which he acquitted -him so well that no man could boast of having -overthrown him. Yet it was his custom from time -to time to return to his old dwelling-place to see his -old father and to rest awhile from his labours. -And so coming now, he chanced to find the Lady -Una sitting with a company of the forest folk -around her, teaching them holy things. Much he -marvelled to see how fair she was, and more did he -marvel at the wise and gracious words that came -from her lips; for, indeed, by this time, being by -nature of a lively wit, he had himself learnt many -things. So he gladly sought her company, and -would fain be her disciple and learn the ways of -righteousness and peace from her lips.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_38">38</div> -<p>After certain days the Lady Una, seeing that -this Satyrane was an honourable knight and worthy -of trust, said to him, “I would fain go on with -journeyings, if haply I may find my champion.” -“Lady,” he made answer, “I am bound to do your -pleasure; it shall be as you say.” So having -watched for a time when the forest folk were away, -he took her through the forest till they came to the -plain beyond. When the day was now far spent -they spied a traveller on the road, and judging -from his look and garb that he had come from far, -hastened towards him, hoping that they might by -chance hear something that would help them in -their quest. He was an old man of low estate, as -it seemed, his garments worn and soiled with much -dust from the road, his sandals torn with much -travelling, and his face bronzed by the sun, as if -he had travelled long in Arabian or Indian land. -A staff he carried in his hand, and on his shoulders -hung a wallet in which he carried such things as -were needed for his journey.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_39">39</div> -<p>Satyrane said to him: “Friend, have you aught -to tell me of wars and adventures in these or in -foreign parts, for indeed you seem to have come a -long way?” “Nay,” answered the stranger, “I am -a simple man, and know nothing of such matters.” -Then said the Lady Una: “Tell me now whether -you have seen or heard aught of the champion -whom I am seeking? He bears a red cross on his -armour.” The old man answered: “Fair lady, -truly I have seen such an one with these eyes, and -a sorry sight it was, for he lay dead upon the -ground.” When the Lady Una heard these words -she fell to the earth in a swoon. When Satyrane -with much care had brought her back to life, she -said: “Friend, tell me all that you know; one who -has borne the greater pain may well endure the -less.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_40">40</div> -<p>The old traveller answered: “On a certain day—an -evil day it was, and I am grieved that I ever -lived to see it—as I chanced to be passing on my -way, I saw two knights contending fiercely together; -one was a Saracen, and the other bore a red cross -on his shield, and he that carried this device was -slain.” “Oh to think,” cried the Lady Una, -“that he should be thus overcome, he that was so -stout and brave. How could such an evil chance -befall?” “That I know not, fair lady,” said the old -man; “I can but relate the thing which I saw with -mine eyes.” Then said Satyrane: “Tell me now, -old man, where is the Saracen knight that did this -deed? Is he far from hence or near at hand?” -The old man made answer: “You may find him -not far from here. I left him but a short time -ago sitting by a fountain where he washed his -wounds.”</p> -<p>The knight Satyrane, having further inquired -by what way he should go, made all haste to find -the Saracen, fearing lest haply he should have -departed. And, indeed, he found him, sitting by -the fountain side under the shade of a tree, for it -was Sansloy, the same that had overthrown Archimage. -And Satyrane cried aloud: “Rise from -your place, accursed miscreant, you that by some -unknightly craft and treachery have slain the Red-Cross -Knight, for I know well that you could not -have overcome him in fair fight. Rise up, and either -maintain your cause in arms, or confess your guilt.” -The Saracen, when he heard these words, rose -quickly from his place and put his helmet on his -head, and took his shield upon his arm, and drew -near to his adversary. But first he said: “Truly -you have been sent hither in an evil hour to fight -a quarrel that is not yours. And, indeed, you blame -me for a deed which I have not done. The Red-Cross -Knight I slew not, nor indeed did I engage -in fight with him. Someone who falsely bore his -arms I overthrew. But come now, if you may -not fight in his quarrel, fight in your own.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_41">41</div> -<p>Then the two men came together in fierce -encounter. When they were at the hottest of the -fray, the Lady Una came to the place, for Satyrane -had left her behind in his haste. And when she -saw the Saracen she said to herself: “Now what -shall I do if this false villain should get the upper -hand of Satyrane?” And the thought struck such -terror into her heart that she straightway turned -and fled from the place. And the old traveller, -who had told the false tale of the slaying of the -Red-Cross Knight, followed her, for, indeed, he was -none other than Archimage.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_42">42</div> -<h2 id="c7"><span class="h2line1">CHAPTER VII</span> -<br /><span class="h2line2">OF THE GIANT ORGOGLIO</span></h2> -<p>When the false Duessa came back to the -Palace of Pride from the journey which she -had made in the matter of Sansjoy, she found that -the Red-Cross Knight had departed. Thereupon -she set out without delay, being altogether unwilling -that he should escape out of reach of her nets. -Nor, indeed, was it long before she found him, -sitting by the side of a spring in the shade of a -tree. He had put off his armour by reason of his -weariness and of the heat of the day. “You did -ill to leave me in that ill place Sir Knight,” she -said, “for ill I found it to be, even as you did -yourself.” Then he excused himself with courteous -words, and so peace was made again between the -two.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_43">43</div> -<p>Now the spring by which the Knight was taking -his rest was not as other springs, but there lay a -curse upon it, because the nymph which dwelt -therein had fallen out of favour with her mistress, -Diana. And the cause of her so falling was this. -On a certain day, as Diana and her train were -following the chase, the nymph of this spring, being -wearied with the heat and toil of the day, sat -herself down to rest. With this her mistress, being -very keen in her hunting, was ill pleased: “Maid,” -she cried, “you are dull and slow; such, then, shall -these waters be for ever, ay, and whosoever shall -drink of them.” Of this the Knight knew nothing, -but because the waters were crystal clear and cold, -and his thirst was great, he drank a great draught. -And as he drank, the powers of body and soul -grew faint and feeble, but by slow degrees and unperceived. -Ere long there came to his ears a loud -bellowing sound which made the trees to tremble -and the very earth to shake. The Knight leapt -from the ground, and would have armed himself, -but yet, such was the working of that magic spring, -was strangely slow. Certain it is that ere he could -don his armour or thrust his arm into the fitting of -his shield, there came stalking along with mighty -stride the most fearsome giant that ever was seen -on the face of the earth. His stature was thrice -that of man, and in his right hand he carried an -oak tree which he had torn from the earth by its -roots. It served him for a staff whereon to stay -his steps, and for a mace with which to slay his -foes. So soon as he spied the Knight he came -against him with the oak tree lifted in his hand. -On the other hand, the Knight made a vain show of -battle, but the strength had departed from his arm, -and the heart in him failed for fear. He lifted his -sword, indeed, but he had no power to strike. -Then the giant aimed at him a mighty blow, such -as would have levelled to the ground a tower of -stone. Verily, but for the grace and help of God, -it had ground him to powder, but he leapt from -under it, yet its very wind laid him prostrate on the -ground. When the giant saw him lie helpless in this -fashion, he lifted his hand again as if to slay him, but -the false Duessa, who, for her own ends, would not -have the Knight perish in this fashion, cried aloud: -“O Orgoglio, greatest of all creatures under the -sun, slay him not, but make him your thrall and -slave.” The giant listened to this prayer. He -took the Knight in his arms and carried him to his -castle, and there threw him into a dungeon that -had been dug deep into the earth. There he lay -for a while, with such scant provision of meat and -drink as sufficed to keep the life in him.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_44">44</div> -<p>The faithful Dwarf had seen his master fall, for -he had the Knight’s war-horse in charge, while the -beast was grazing in the meadow hard by. And -now, the giant having departed with his prisoner, -he gathered together the arms and the armour, for -these Orgoglio had left lying on the ground as -taking no account of such things. There was the -helmet and the cuirass, and the greaves and the -shield with the cross upon it, and the spear—things -sad to behold, now that there was none to wear or -wield them. He laid them on the back of the war-horse, -and so departed. He had not gone far -before he met the Lady Una herself. When she -saw him and the war-horse and the burden which -it bore, there was no spirit left in her, so that she -fell without sense to the ground. Willingly would -the faithful Dwarf have died, knowing what ill -tidings he bore, and seeing how ill they were taken. -Nevertheless he did not lose heart, but with much -pain and care sought to recover the lady from her -swoon. Thrice did he bring her back to life, and -thrice she fell as one dead to the ground. At last, -when the spirit within her had somewhat recovered -itself, she said with faltering tongue: “Tell me now, -faithful friend, the whole story from the beginning, -how it is that I see these relics of the bravest -knight that ever was. Verily Fortune has spent -all her spite upon him and me. Worse than that -which I feel in my heart I cannot hear. Begin -your tale and carry it to the very end. If haply it -shall be in aught less dreadful than what I fear, so -much I shall have gained.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_45">45</div> -<p>Then the Dwarf rehearsed from the beginning -all that had befallen the Red-Cross Knight from -the time of their parting, the deceits of Archimage -and the wiles of the false Duessa, and the fate of -the two lovers who had been changed to trees, and -the Palace of Pride, and the combat with Sansjoy, -and how the Knight had been taken unprepared by -the giant Orgoglio.</p> -<p>To these things the lady listened with attentive -ear, and when the Dwarf had ended his tale -she said: “Verily I will seek him as long as I live. -Lead on, and show me the way that I must go.” -So they travelled both together.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_46">46</div> -<p>They had not journeyed far before they met -a knight riding on the way with his squire behind -him. Never was there more gallant warrior or -more gallantly arrayed. His armour shone like -the sun, and across his breast he wore a baldrick -richly adorned with precious stones. Costly were -they all, but one among them shone most excellently, -a great diamond like to the head of a fair -lady, brighter than all the rest, even as the star of -evening is brighter than all the hosts of heaven. -His sword hung from his side in a sheath cunningly -made of ivory; its hilt was of burnished gold, and -its buckle also of gold. The crest of his helmet -was a great dragon, with wings spread out on -either side, and above the crest a horse-hair plume, -which waved to and fro as an almond tree waves -its blossoms in the breath of spring. But the -great marvel of his equipment was his shield. It -was not made of iron or of brass, as are the shields -of common men, but of one great diamond. Only -it was covered up from sight. When he would -dismay some huge monster, or strike with fear -some great array of the enemy, then he would -show its brightness. No power of man, no enchantments, -strong and subtle as they might be, -could prevail against it, or diminish aught of its -power, for indeed it was made by the greatest -magician that ever lived upon the earth, even -Merlin.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_47">47</div> -<p>The gallant knight spake full courteously to -the Lady Una, asking if he could help her or -serve her in aught. “Oh, Sir,” she answered, -“my sorrow is so great that it is past all remedy. -What would it profit to tell the tale? ’Tis best to -hide it in my heart nor stir the hidden grief.”</p> -<p>“Nay, lady,” answered the knight, “I doubt not -that your grief is great, but I would counsel you -to tell the tale for all it is so sad. Pain is ever -lessened, be it ever so great, by wise counsel, and -he who will not reveal his trouble may never -find help.”</p> -<p>So they spake together, he persuading her to -reveal her sorrow and she unwilling to bring it -to the light, till at last, yielding to his words of -wisdom, she told her tale.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_48">48</div> -<p>“I am the daughter,” she said, “the only child -of a king and queen whose kingdom lies far by -the river Euphrates. Long did they reign in -great prosperity, till a great dragon, bred in the -lakes of Tartary, wasted their land till there was -nothing left of all that belonged to them, save the -one castle in which they dwelt, and to this the -dragon has laid siege now for the space of four -years. Many knights have taken in hand this -enterprise, to subdue the dragon and to deliver -those whom he oppresses. From every country -under heaven have they come, brave men and -famous for great deeds, but they have failed, one -and all. For want of faith or for the hidden -weakness of some secret sin they have fallen -before him. At last there came to our land a -report of certain famous knights that had been -bred in this realm of Fairy Land. Thereupon I -betook myself thither, even to the Court of Queen -Gloriana, who dwells in the City of Renown, -hoping that I might there find some faithful -knight who should deliver my father and mother -from the power of the tyrant. Nor did I go in -vain. It was my good fortune to find a gallant -knight who was fit and willing to undertake this -task. Unproved indeed he was, but he was of -a fair body and a noble soul. It was he who -set forth upon this enterprise. Of his prowess -I saw full many a proof. Yea, the sword and the -spear which you see on the back of yonder steed -might tell, if they could speak, of the great deeds -which he has wrought. But by ill chance he -encountered a most false magician, by whose arts -he was betrayed. First this vile creature made -division between my knight and me, so that he -misdoubted of my faith. Next he delivered him -to the wiles of a certain false woman, Duessa by -name. And she has betrayed him into the hands -of a great and terrible giant, Orgoglio by name. -And in this giant’s dungeon he now lies pining to -death. This is my grief, Sir Knight, and greater, -surely, never woman bore.”</p> -<p>“Your grief is indeed great,” answered the -stranger knight; “but be of good cheer. I will -never leave you till I have set your champion -free. Come now, let us bring this matter to -an end.”</p> -<p>So they rode on together with the Dwarf for -their guide. The name of the gallant knight who -bore the shield of diamond was Arthur.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_49">49</div> -<h2 id="c8"><span class="h2line1">CHAPTER VIII</span> -<br /><span class="h2line2">OF THE DEEDS OF PRINCE ARTHUR</span></h2> -<p>When they had travelled a score of miles or -so, they came to a castle which was built -very high and strong. Thereupon the Dwarf cried -out, “This is the place in which my good lord lies -a prisoner, the thrall of the giant Orgoglio.” Thereupon -the Prince Arthur alighted from his steed, and -said to the Lady Una, “Stay here, madam, and -await the issue of this day’s combat.” Then, at his -bidding, the squire came near to the wall of the -castle. He found the gates fast shut, with no -warder to guard them, nor was there any to answer -when he called. Then the squire took in his hand -a bugle that he bore, that hung by his side with a -chain of gold decked with gay tassels. It was a -bugle of wondrous power; for three miles it could -be heard, and there came out of space three answers -to its blast, nor could anyone in whose heart there -was aught of falsehood endure to hear it without -dismay, nor could any bolt or bar, however stout -they might be, withstand its summons. This bugle, -then, Prince Arthur’s squire sounded before the -giant’s castle. And it was shaken straightway -from the foundation to the topmost towers, and the -doors flew open of their own accord. The giant -himself was much troubled at the sound, and came -with staggering steps, as one smitten with a sudden -fear, to see what it might mean. And after came -the false Duessa, riding on a many-headed beast, -with fiery tongues, for such a monster the giant -had given her for her own.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_50">50</div> -<p>Prince Arthur without delay addressed himself -to the fight. Nor did the giant draw back, being -persuaded that no mortal man could stand up against -him and prevail. He thought, indeed, to slay him -with a single blow, and lifted up his mighty club. -But the Prince was wise and wary, and, lightly -leaping aside, he escaped the stroke unhurt, for he -thought it no shame to use his craft against brute -strength. As for the club, so missing its aim, it -sank deep into the earth, making a furrow a yard -deep and more. The giant pulled at it amain, -seeking to lift it for another stroke, but could not -prevail, so fast was it buried. The knight, therefore, -had him at a disadvantage, and smote him with his -sword so deadly a stroke that it shore off his arm. -Loud did he bellow with fear and pain, and Duessa, -seeing her champion in sore distress, made the great -beast on which she sat advance against the Knight. -But now Prince Arthur’s squire, a gallant warrior, -worthy of such a lord, stood forth and, with his -single sword, barred the way. In high disdain to -be hindered by so weak a foe Duessa yet again -urged on the beast, but still the squire stood firm; -he would not give place a single step lest the -enemy should so gain an advantage against his -lord. Then Duessa had recourse to her magic -arts, for she took of the magic juices which she -ever carried with her, and sprinkled them upon the -youth, and quenched his courage and robbed him -of his strength, so that he could neither see nor -stand. So he fell all his length upon the earth, and -the beast laid his deadly claws upon his neck, and -would have crushed the life out of him. But the -Knight, perceiving his evil plight, turned quickly -from his own adversary, and addressed himself to -the beast, for, indeed, it grieved him much that his -faithful squire should have come into such peril of -his life. So, lifting high the sword with which he -had smitten the giant, he smote the beast upon one -of its heads, making the blood pour out amain. -But when the beast, writhing to and fro in its pain, -would have shaken Duessa from her seat upon its -back, and she cried out in her fear, the giant came -to her help. He was, indeed, of no common nature, -nor was he disabled by the wound which would -have bereft all other creatures of strength. In the -one hand which was left to him there dwelt the -strength of the two, and now being free to use again -his club of oak, he lifted it up high and dealt such -a blow at Prince Arthur’s shield that it brought him -to the ground. But now by this very stroke the -Knight’s deliverance was wrought, for the covering -was torn from the shield by its violence, and all its -brightness was revealed. With so great a splendour -did it blaze into the giant’s eyes that he dropped his -arm and let fall the club with which he was ready -to slay his adversary. The beast also was blinded -by that brightness, and fell reft of its senses on the -ground. Nor when Duessa cried aloud to the -giant in her fear could he render effectual help. -With stroke after stroke the Prince lopped from -him limb after limb, till he lay dead upon the -ground. And then this marvel came to pass. -This creature which had seemed so vast seemed to -vanish away. As for Duessa, she sprang from off -the beast, and would have fled away upon her feet. -But this the squire would not suffer, for, pursuing -her with speedy feet, he laid hold of her and -brought her back to the Prince to await his -judgment.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_52">52</div> -<p>And now the Lady Una, who in fear and -trembling had watched the combat from a distance, -came near and thanked both Knight and -squire for the good service which they had -rendered. “I cannot repay you,” she said; “may -Heaven give you your reward and with usury. -Suffer me to say one thing. Let not this false -woman depart, for, indeed, she is the cause of all -the mischief that has been wrought.” Then Prince -Arthur said to his squire: “Take this woman in -charge; I will go seek the Red-Cross Knight.” -So he departed on this errand, and, entering the -castle, sought someone of whom he might inquire. -No one did he find, and though he called aloud, -there was none to answer. At last there came -forth an old man leaning on a staff with which he -guided his steps, for the sight of his eyes had failed -him long since, and carrying a great bunch of keys, -but all of them overgrown with rust. His name -was Ignaro. A reverend sire he seemed, and the -Knight asked him with all courtesy: “Who are -they that dwell in this place, and where may they -be found?” “I cannot tell,” he said. Then the -Prince asked again: “Where, then, is the Knight -whom the giant Orgoglio holds in thrall?” “I -cannot tell,” said he again, nor did he say any other -words. The Prince’s anger rose at this foolishness, -but he checked it as should a courteous knight, and, -taking the keys from the old man’s hand, essayed to -open the doors, nor did they delay to yield. Great -riches he found within—store of gold, and tapestry -finely wrought, and much splendid furnishing; but -the floor was foul with blood. Vainly did he search -through all the chambers; the prisoner he could -not find. At last he came to an iron door. It was -fast locked, nor was there a key upon the bunch -that would open it. But in the door there was a -grating of iron bars. Through this he called -aloud: “Dwells there anyone in this place, for I -will set him free?” To this there came a low -voice making this reply: “Who is that who comes? -Three months have I lain in this foul dungeon, and -if you bring me death itself I would choose it rather -than to stay in this place.” When the Prince heard -these words he was overcome with horror and pity; -not the less, gathering up all his strength, he smote -the door, and brake it from its hinges. But when -the opening was made, lo! on the other side was -no floor but only a deep pit, dark as night, from -which there came up a loathsome smell. But -neither the pit nor the darkness nor the vile stench -abated the Prince’s courage. With much pains -and toil he drew up the prisoner from the pit. -Sadly wasted was he. He could not stand upon -his feet, and his eyes, deep sunk in the sockets, -could not bear to look upon the light, and his -arms that had been so staunch and strong in the -old time were wasted to the bone. So the Prince -carried him to the castle door. And when the -Lady Una saw him, she was filled with pity and -ruth and would have comforted him: “Welcome, -my lord,” she cried, “whom I have so long desired -to see. Soon shall you have a recompense for all -that you have suffered.” “Dear lady,” he made -answer, “we will not speak of the evil that is past; -only let us beware that we fall not into it again. -For, indeed, there is engraven in my heart, as with -a pen of iron, this true saying: ‘Happiness may -not abide in the heart of mortal man.’”</p> -<p>As for the false Duessa, they were content to -strip her of her robes and ornaments. And fouler -creature to behold there never was. Then the -knights and the squire and the Lady Una tarried -awhile in the castle, where they found all things -that they needed. So they took for sundry days -a rest from their toil.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_55">55</div> -<h2 id="c9"><span class="h2line1">CHAPTER IX</span> -<br /><span class="h2line2">OF THE HOUSE OF HOLINESS</span></h2> -<p>The time was now come when, having rested -sufficiently, the Red-Cross Knight must set -forth again, and Prince Arthur, being bound for -another land, must bid his companions farewell. -Then said the Lady Una: “Tell us now your -name and nation, for it would be a great loss not to -know to whom we owe so great a debt.” “Fair -lady,” said he, “you ask me that which it passeth -my wit to answer. This only do I know, that so -soon as I was born I was taken by a knight of -Fairyland to Timon, now the wisest, as he was once -the most expert, in arms among living men, by him -to be brought up in all virtuous lore and noble -accomplishment. To his house the great Merlin -would often come, for he had the chief charge of -my upbringing, and he, when I asked him of my -family, answered: ‘Be content; you are the son -and heir of a king, as shall be made manifest in due -time.’” “And how,” said the Lady Una, “came -you here seeking adventure?” “You bid me -renew an unspeakable grief,” he answered. “There -was a time when I laughed at the name of Love, -and thought scorn of all that suffered from its -power. But there came a time when I myself -confessed it. On a certain day, being wearied out -with sport, I laid me down to sleep. And in my -sleep I dreamt a dream. The Queen of Fairyland -stood by my side and told me that she loved me -and would show her love when the time should -come. Such was my dream; whether it was false -or true I know not—only that never in this world -did man see so fair a sight or hear words so sweet. -And when I woke I vowed in my heart that I -would seek her, and never rest till I had found her. -Nine months have I sought her, but in vain.” The -Lady Una said: “Happy Queen of Fairies that -has found so gallant a champion!” and the Red-Cross -Knight said: “O sir, to whom I owe my life, -if ever man was worthy of such love, you are surely -he!”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_56">56</div> -<p>And now the time was come when they must -part. Prince Arthur gave to the Knight a box of -diamonds set in gold, wherein were drops of a -wondrous liquid of a virtue so excellent that it -could heal the most grievous wounds. And the -Knight gave to the Prince a book in which the -Gospels were written in golden letters.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_57">57</div> -<p>They had not journeyed far when they were -aware of a knight, in complete armour, riding towards -them as fast as his horse could gallop. He seemed -to be flying from an enemy or from some dreadful -thing, for, ever and anon, he cast a look behind -him as though an enemy were close at his heels. -When he came near they saw that his head was -uncovered, and that his hair bristled with fear, while -his face was as pale as death, and that round his -neck was a rope of hemp, which, indeed, ill agreed -with his shining armour. But he made no account, -so overcome with fear was he, either of rope or of -arms. The Red-Cross Knight rode as fast as he -could so as to meet him as he fled, and said to him: -“Tell me, Sir Knight, what has befallen you? -From whom do you flee? Never have I seen -knight in such evil plight.”</p> -<p>Not a word did the stranger speak, but stood -staring widely out of stony eyes. But after a while -he gathered strength to speak, but full low, and with -faltering words: “For the love of God,” he said, -“gentle Knight, hinder me not: he comes; see! he -comes after me, as fast as he can ride.” But the -Red-Cross Knight held him fast, and using now -comfort and now reproach, at last put some little -heart into him, so that he could tell his tale, and -the tale was this—</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_58">58</div> -<p>“I chanced of late to be in company with a -gentle knight, Sir Terwin by name. He was a -man of good repute for courage and skill in arms, -but he fared ill in one matter, in that he loved a -fair lady who had but little love for him, but rather -took pleasure in seeing him languish and lament. -On a certain day as we were coming away from the -lady’s dwelling—for he had been paying her court, -and had been most disdainfully treated—we met a -stranger who greeted us courteously, and, as we -fared on together, told us many wonderful tales of -great adventures. When he had in this way won -our regard, he inquired with a show of friendship -of our condition, and when he had heard the same, -and knew that we suffered not a little distress in -this matter of love, for I, too, was not less troubled -in this respect than was my friend, he began to talk -to us in the most gloomy fashion, taking from us all -hope of relief, and in the end counselling us to end -our troubles with death. And that we might do this -the more easily, he gave to me this rope and to Sir -Terwin a rusty knife. With this said knife Sir Terwin, -unhappy man that he was, forthwith slew -himself; but I, whether I was more faint of heart -or more fortunate I know not, fled away with all -speed.”</p> -<p>“I would see this fellow,” said the Red-Cross -Knight, “and deal with him according to his -deserts.”</p> -<p>“Nay,” said the other, whose name was Trevisan, -“I counsel you not to go within hearing of -his speech, so powerful is he to persuade.” And -when the Red-Cross Knight was urgent to go, Sir -Trevisan answered: “To do your pleasure, friend, -I will show the place, but I myself would sooner die -than enter.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_59">59</div> -<p>So they two rode together, and the Lady Una -with them, till they came to the place. It was a -gloomy cave in the side of a rock, on the top of -which there sat an owl making a doleful screech. -By the side of the cave were stocks of trees without -leaf or fruit, but with the carcases of men hanging -upon them, and on the ground beneath were other -bodies, which had fallen down by lapse of years. -Sir Trevisan would have fled when he saw the -place, but the other would not suffer it. They -entered the cave and saw the man sitting on the -ground within. His grisly hair fell in long locks -about his neck, and his eyes were deadly dull and -his cheeks sunken, as if it were with hunger and -grief. His garments were dirty and patched, being -fastened together with thorns. And on the ground -beside him there lay the corpse of a man, newly -slain, whose blood had not yet ceased to flow from -the wound. Then said the Red-Cross Knight, -“What say you, wicked man, why you should not -be straightway judged for the evil deed which you -have done?” “What words are these, stranger?” -said the man, “and what judgment is this? Why -should he live who desires to die? Is it against -justice that a man should have his due? Or, -again, to speak of charity rather than justice, is it -not well to help him over that comes to a great -flood, or to free the feet that stick fast in the mire? -He that lies there enjoys the rest which you desire -and cannot have. Somewhat painful the passage, -it cannot be denied, yet how great and how sweet -the rest! Is it not well to endure short pain for -so long a happiness? Sleep after toil, port after -stormy seas, ease after war, death after life, what -better can you ask?”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_60">60</div> -<p>“Nay,” answered the Knight, “the time of a -man’s life is ordered. No one may shorten it at -his will; no, nor any soldier quit the post at which -he has been set.”</p> -<p>“Say you so?” replied the other. “If all things -have their appointed end, who shall deny that the -end which you shall yourself set is of the things -appointed by Fate? Remember also this: the -longer the life the more the sin, and the more the -sin the greater the punishment. Once you have -missed the right way—and who has not missed -it?—the further you stray. And have you not -strayed, Sir Knight? Bethink you what you have -endured, and what you have done amiss. What -of the lady whom you swore to champion and so -shamefully deserted? What of the false Duessa -to whom you so basely pledged yourself? Does -not the law say, ‘He that sins shall die’? Die, -therefore, as becomes a brave man, without delay, -and of your own accord.”</p> -<p>The Knight was greatly troubled by these -words, for indeed there were many things of which -his conscience accused him, so that he trembled -and grew faint, which, when the Fiend perceived, -he showed him a picture in which was set forth the -sufferings of lost souls; and, after this, perceiving -him to be yet more confounded, he brought to -him a sword, and poison, and a rope, bidding him -choose the death by which he would rather die. -And when the Knight took none of these, he put -into his hand a sharp knife. Once and again did the -Knight lift it up as if to strike; but when the Lady -Una saw it, she snatched the knife out of his hand, -crying, “Fie, fie on thee, faint hearted! Is this -the battle which you promised to fight against the -dragon of the fiery mouth? Come away; let not -these idle words dismay your heart. You are -chosen to a great work; why should you despair? -Surely Mercy rejoices against Judgment, and the -greater the need, the greater the grace. Come, let -us leave this accursed place.” Then the Knight -rose up and departed. And when the Fiend saw -him depart, he took a halter and put it round his -neck, and was fain to hang himself. But this he -could not do; many times had he essayed the same, -but had ever failed.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_61">61</div> -<p>As they journeyed on the Lady Una perceived -that her Knight, for all that he was healed of his -sickness, was feeble and faint, and unfit for combat, -if such should come in his way. Now she knew -of an ancient house of rest which was in those -parts where he might have refreshment and recover -his strength. The hostess’ name was Cælia, -which, being interpreted, is Heavenly, and she -had three daughters—Fidelia and Speranza and -Charissa, the last a matron with fair children, the -others maidens promised in marriage. There the -Knight tarried many days. Much discipline did -he endure for the removing of his faults and -weaknesses, and much comfort also was ministered -to him, and many things was he taught. And -when his heart had been thus strengthened and -purified, then did the Lady Cælia commend him -to the care of a most venerable sire who was -chief among her ministers. The same showed -him many fair and noble sights, and last of all, -on a mountain side, a way that was both steep -and long, and at the end of the way a fair city, -whose walls were builded high of pearls and all -manner of precious stones. And as the Knight -gazed thereat, he saw angels ascending thereto -and descending therefrom. Then said he to his -guide: “Tell me, sir, what city do I see -yonder?” “That,” answered he, “is the New -Jerusalem which God has built as a dwelling-place -for his children.” “Verily,” said the Knight, -“I thought that Cleopolis, the abode of the great -Gloriana, was the fairest of all cities. But this -does far excel it.” “Yea,” answered the holy -man, “that is true beyond all doubt; and yet -this same Cleopolis is worthy to be the abode of -all true knights, and the service of Queen Gloriana -a most honourable thing. And you, fair sir, have -chosen a good part, rendering thus obedience to -her command, and succouring on her behalf this -distressed lady. And I give you this counsel: -When you have won your great victory, and have -hung your shield high among the shields of the -most famous knights of the world, then turn your -thoughts to better things; wash your hands clean -from the stain of blood, for blood, though it be -shed in a righteous cause, must make a stain. So -shall you tread the steep and narrow path which -leads to this fair city, the New Jerusalem. There -is a mansion prepared for you. Thus you shall -be numbered among the saints, and shall be the -friend and patron of the land which gave you -birth, having for your style and title <span class="sc">Saint -George of England</span>.” Then said the Knight, -“Dare I hope, being such as I am, to attain to -such a grace?” “Yea,” said the Sage, “others -of the like degree have so attained.” “But must -I leave behind all the delights of war and love?” -“Be content,” answered the Sage; “in that joy -are all joys fulfilled.” “But,” said the Knight, -“if this world is so vain a thing, why should I -turn to it again? May I not abide here in peace -till I can set forth on that last voyage?” “Nay,” -said the Sage, “that may not be. Thou must -maintain this lady’s cause, and do the work that -has been committed to you. But now learn the -secret of your birth. You are of the ancient -race of British kings; but a fairy stole you from -your cradle, and laid you in a furrow. There a -certain ploughman found you, and, designing to -bring you up to his own craft, called you -George, which is by interpretation, ‘worker of the -earth.’”</p> -<p>So the Knight went back to Cælia’s abode not -a little comforted and encouraged.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_64">64</div> -<h2 id="c10"><span class="h2line1">CHAPTER X</span> -<br /><span class="h2line2">OF THE SLAYING OF THE DRAGON</span></h2> -<p>The time was now come when the Red-Cross -Knight must perform the task which he had -taken in hand. He departed therefore from the -House of Rest; nor had he journeyed far when the -Lady Una said to him: “See now the brazen -tower in which my father and mother are imprisoned -for fear of the dragon, and lo! there is -the watchman on the wall waiting for good tidings.” -Scarcely had she spoken when they heard a dreadful -sound of roaring, and, looking, they saw the -dragon lying on the sunny side of a hill, and he -was like a hill himself, so great he was. Nor did -he fail to note the glitter of arms, for he was a -watchful beast, and made all haste to meet his -enemy.</p> -<p>Then said the Knight to Una: “The hour is -come; stand aside on yonder hill where you may -watch the battle and be safe yourself.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_65">65</div> -<p>Meanwhile the dragon came on, half flying and -half on foot, such haste did he make. Never was -seen upon the earth so terrible a beast. He looked -like to a mountain as he came, so much of the earth -did he cover, so high did he rear himself in air, so -broad a shadow did he cast. He was covered all -over with scales as of brass or iron, fitting so close -together that neither edge of sword nor point of -spear could pierce them. On either side he spread -out two great wings like to the sails of some tall -ship. Behind was a great tail, wound in a hundred -folds and covering full three furlongs. Huge knots -it had, each like to a shield, and at the end were -two great stings, armed each with deadliest poison. -But more cruel even than the stings were his claws, -so mighty were they and so sharp to rend asunder -all that they should touch; and yet more cruel than -his claws was his monstrous head, with rows of -teeth, strong as iron, set in either jaw, while out of his -throat came forth a smoking breath with sulphurous -stench. Deep set in his head were his two great -eyes, large as shields and burning with wrath as -with fire, like to two broad beacons set upon a hill -to give warning of the foe’s approach to all the -shires around.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_66">66</div> -<p>Such was the dragon to behold, and as he came -on he might be seen to rear his neck as in pride, -while his scales bristled with anger—a dreadful sight, -which made even the Knight’s bold heart grow cold -for a space with fear. But not the less boldly did -he address himself to the fight. Laying his spear -in rest he charged with all his might. Full on the -monster’s carcase struck the spear, but could not -pierce those scales, so stout and closely set they -were. Only so shrewd was the blow that the -dragon felt the shock within: never had such been -dealt to him before, though he had met many a -gallant knight in combat. So he spread wide his -wings, and, lifting himself in air, circled round till, -swooping down, he seized Knight and steed with -his claws and lifted them from the earth. For a -whole bow-shot’s length he carried them, but then -was constrained to loose them, so fierce the struggle -which they made. So you may see a hawk, when -he has pounced upon some bird that is too heavy -for his flight, carry his prey awhile, but is then constrained -to drop him from his claws. Again did -the Knight, so restored to the earth, charge his foe. -Again did the spear glance aside, though there was -the force as of three men in the blow. Yet was not -the thrust all in vain. So fierce was the shock that -the dragon was constrained to raise his wing, and -there, where the flesh was bare of shelter, the spear -point made a grisly wound. The beast caught the -spear shaft with his claws and brake it short, but -the head stuck fast, while the blood poured out -amain. Then, in his rage, he vomited forth great -flames of fire, and, bending round his tail, caught the -Knight’s horse by the legs, and he, fiercely struggling -to free himself, threw his rider to the ground. Ill -content with this fall, for it seemed as a dishonour -to him, he snatched his sword—of his spear he had -been bereft—and smote the dragon on his crest. -The crest did not yield to the blow, so stoutly was -it cased about, but the creature felt the shock -through all his mighty frame. Yet again the Knight -smote him, and once more the sword glanced aside -as if from a rock of adamant, yet was not the labour -spent in vain, for now the beast, seeking to avoid -his enemy, would have raised himself in air, but -that the wounded wing could not perform its office. -Then, in his fury, he brayed aloud, and vomited -forth from his throat so fierce a flame that it -scorched the face of the Knight, and set his beard -on fire, and seared his flesh through his armour. -Grievous was the pain, and scarcely to be borne, -not less than that which Hercules of old endured -when the fiery robe steeped in the Centaur’s blood -wrapped him round.<a class="fn" id="fr_1" href="#fn_1">[1]</a> -He stood astonished and -helpless. And when the dragon saw how he fared -he dealt him a great blow with his tail, and so -brought him headlong to the ground. Then, indeed, -it had gone ill with him, but for the happy chance -that behind him there was a spring which sent forth -a stream of water, silvery bright and of great -virtue for the healing of all wounds and sicknesses. -Men in the old time, before the dragon had wasted -the land, called it the Well of Life, and though it -was now for the most part forgotten, yet had it not -lost its healing powers. It could restore him that -was wasted with sickness, ay, and raise the dead. -There was no spring on earth that could be matched -with it. But of this the dragon was unaware—how -should he know of such things?—only when he saw -his adversary fall headlong into the water he clapped -his wings for joy. This the Lady Una saw from -the hill whereon she sat watching the fight. Sorely -did it dismay her. Nevertheless she did not wholly -lose her hope, but prayed all night to God that it -might yet be well with the Knight.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_68">68</div> -<p>When the next morning dawned in the sky she -looked, and lo! her champion stood all refreshed -and ready for the fray. Nor did the dragon draw -back from the encounter. Straightway the Knight, -lifting high his sword, dealt a great blow at the -monster’s crest, and this time, whether the sacred -spring had given a keener edge to the steel or had -put new strength into the arm which wielded it, it -did that which never steel had done before, for it -made a great yawning wound. Then the dragon, -wrought to fury by the pain, lifted his tail high over -his head, and brought down upon his adversary the -deadly double sting which lay in the end. Through -the shield it made its way, and fixed itself in his -shoulder. Grievous was the smart, but the Knight, -thinking only of victory and honour, did not flinch -beneath it, but, gathering all his strength, shore off -the furthest joints of the tail, so that not the half of -it was left. But not yet was the battle won. For -now the dragon laid his two mighty claws upon the -Knight, seizing his foot with one and his shield -with the other. Sorely was he now beset, for -though with a blow of his sword he rid himself of -the one claw, the other held him fast. At the same -time there burst forth from the monsters mouth -such blasts of fire, such clouds of smoke, that he -was constrained to retire a little backward, and so, -retiring, he slipped in the mire and fell. Yet the -matter turned to his good, for the same Spring of -Life refreshed and healed him as before, nor did -the dragon dare to come near, for he could not have -aught to do with a thing so pure and holy. And -so the second day came to its ending.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_69">69</div> -<p>This night also did the Lady Una pray for her -Knight throughout the hours of darkness, and the -morning found her watching as before. But with -the third day came a speedy end to that fierce -encounter. The dragon, full of rage to be so -baulked of his prey, ran at the Knight with mouth -wide open as if to swallow him alive. And he was -not slow to seize the occasion, for his foe had laid -bare before him its most vital part. Right into the -monster’s mouth he drove his sword with all the -strength that was in him. Nor had he need to -strike again, for the monster fell as falls some cliff -which the waves of the sea for many years have -worn away. High and strong it seems to stand, -but it falls far and wide in sudden ruin.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_70">70</div> -<p>There is no need to tell in many words how the -king and queen of that land came forth from their -prison with great gladness, and how the people of -the land rejoiced to be rid of so foul a tyranny, and -how the Lady Una seemed to be fairer than ever -when she came forth in her robe of state, and how -the Knight and she were duly betrothed. “Fain -would I stay,” said the Knight, “but I am under -promise to Queen Gloriana to serve her for six -years against the infidel.” “So be it,” said the -king of the land, “go, keep your promise as becomes -a noble knight, and know that when you -shall return you shall have my daughter to wife -and my kingdom also, for this I have ever purposed -in my heart, that he who should deliver it -from the foul tyranny should have it for his own, -for none could be more fit.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_71">71</div> -<h2 id="c11"><span class="h2line1">CHAPTER XI</span> -<br /><span class="h2line2">OF SIR GUYON AND THE LADY MEDINA</span></h2> -<p>Archimage did not suffer long from his -overthrow by Sansloy, for he had devices at -his command by which he could recover himself -from all sicknesses, howsoever sore they might be. -And, being recovered, he set himself to do some -hurt to the Red-Cross Knight, who, by this time, -had bidden farewell to the Lady Una, and was -journeying to render service to Queen Gloriana.</p> -<p>As he was travelling with this purpose in his -heart, he came upon a very noble knight, clad in -armour from top to toe, who was riding slowly -along the road, reigning back his horse’s pace to -suit the steps of a venerable pilgrim, who journeyed -by his side. Archimage laid his hand upon the -neck of the knight’s horse and said: “Sir Knight, -I pray you to help one who is sadly in need of -succour for himself and for another, of whom he is -in charge.” And while he spoke he made great pretence -of fear and trouble, trembling and weeping.</p> -<p>“Speak on,” answered Sir Guyon, for this was -the knight’s name. “Speak on, and I will not fail -to help you, and the other of whom you speak.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_72">72</div> -<p>“Oh, sir,” said Archimage, “I am a squire, and -I have a lady in charge to deliver her to her -parents, but there is a certain evil-minded Knight -who hinders me. I know not what I shall do, and -she goes in deadly fear that some great harm will -happen to her.”</p> -<p>“And where is the lady?” asked Sir Guyon.</p> -<p>“Come, sir,” the false squire made answer, -“and I will bring you to her.” So the two went -together, and found a lady sitting under a tree, -weeping sore, with her garments all dishevelled -and torn.</p> -<p>“Fair lady,” said Sir Guyon, “it troubles me -much to see you in this plight. But take heart; I -will surely call him who has done you any wrong -to strict account. But let me hear your complaint.”</p> -<p>So she told him her tale. And when she had -ended he said: “But who is this man; by what -name or by what signs shall I know him?”</p> -<p>“His name,” said she, “I know not; but this I -know, that he rode upon a steed of dappled grey, -and that he carried a shield of silver with a red -cross upon it.”</p> -<p>“Now by my head,” cried Sir Guyon, “I -know this same Knight, and I wonder such that he -should have behaved so ill. He is a good Knight -and a true, and, I hear, has won great renown in -the cause of a fair lady. I was myself present in -the Queen’s court when he took this task upon -himself, which he has now performed with great -honour. Nevertheless, I will try him in this matter, -and he must needs either show that he is free from -blame, or make due amends.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_73">73</div> -<p>Now she that made all this show of grief was -the false Duessa, and Archimage had found her -wandering in miserable plight after Prince Arthur -had dealt with her as has been told above. And -having found her, he decked her out with robes and -ornaments, and made her to appear passing fair, -such arts he had. This he did because she helped -him much when he would tempt a knight into evil -ways.</p> -<p>“And now, squire,” said Sir Guyon, “can you -lead me to the place where the Knight of whom you -make this complaint may be found?”</p> -<p>“That can I,” said Archimage; and he led him -to a shady valley hard by, in the midst of which was -a stream both clear and cold, and on the bank of -the stream sat a knight with his helmet unlaced, -who drank of the water as one who was resting -after a long journey. “Sir,” said Archimage, -“yonder is the evil Knight; he would fain hide -himself from the punishment of his deeds.”</p> -<p>Then Sir Guyon addressed himself to the fight, -and the Red-Cross Knight likewise. But ere they -encountered each other they stayed their hands: -“Pardon me, fair sir, that I had well-nigh set my -spear against the sacred badge which you bear -upon your shield.”</p> -<p>“And I, too,” answered the Red-Cross Knight, -“would likewise crave pardon for like violence to -that fair image of a maiden which is your device.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_74">74</div> -<p>Then they held converse together. Sir Guyon -told his tale, but when he had ended it he looked, -and lo! the false squire, the deceiver Archimage, -had fled, knowing that his device had come to -naught. And now the pilgrim that bore Sir Guyon -company came up, and when he saw the Red-Cross -Knight, he said: “Fair son, God give you praise -and peace for ever. You indeed have won your -place; but ours is yet to win.”</p> -<p>“His be the praise,” answered the Red-Cross -Knight, “by whose grace I am what I am.” So -they parted with much courtesy, going each his -several way.</p> -<p>After a while they came to a fair castle by the -sea where the Lady Medina had her dwelling, Sir -Guyon toiling painfully on foot, because, when he -was helping an unhappy traveller, a knave had -stolen away his horse. This Lady Medina was -one of three sisters, and of the three Elissa was -the eldest and Perissa the youngest. These two -were always at variance, not a little with Medina, -but still more with each other, and she being always -of an equal mind, and wise conduct, had the chief -authority in the place, though, indeed, their father -had left it to the three in equal shares. Elissa -had for lover a certain Sir Hudibras, a famous -knight, but in deeds scarce equal to his high -repute. He had a most mighty body and sturdy -limbs, but his wit was small. Perissa’s knight was -Sansloy, of whom mention has already been made. -Never was man more reckless, indeed, more careless -of right and wrong. So soon as these two -heard that a stranger knight was come to the -castle, then they issued forth to fight with him, their -ladies following; yet such was their folly that even -on the way they fell out and joined in deadly fray, to -the great disturbance of the house. Much did Sir -Guyon marvel as, entering the hall, he saw the fray.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_75">75</div> -<p>“This,” said he to himself, “must have an -end,” and, carrying his shield on his left arm and -with his right hand unsheathing his sword, he ran -in between the two. They with one consent turned -their arms against him, just as a bear and tiger -in the desert plains of Africa, when some traveller -comes in sight, leave their strife and fall upon him -with one mind. It was a strange fight indeed, and -Sir Guyon had fared ill, but for his surpassing -strength and courage, and even these might have -failed him in a conflict so unequal, but that the -Lady Medina, hearing in her bower of what had -befallen, ran forth, with bare bosom and dishevelled -hair, and fell on her knees and besought them to -abate their strife: “Now, my lords!” she cried, -“by the mothers that bare you, and by the love -that you have for your fair ladies, and by the -knighthood to which you owe your homage, I -beseech you to put away this fury and to be at -peace among yourselves.” So she besought them, -and though the two sisters stood by, not helping a -whit, but rather stirring up each her champion to -fiercer wrath, she prevailed. The knights let fall -their swords, and bowed their heads before her, -and vowed to do her bidding. Then she, fearing -that their resolve might be unstable, bound them -by a treaty, which they, on their part, swore, on -their knightly honour, that they would keep for all -time to come.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_76">76</div> -<p>This done she bade them all, both knights and -ladies, to a fair banquet. And when they had had -enough of meat and drink, she said: “Tell us, -Sir Knight, on what errand you are come and -what end you seek.”</p> -<p>Then said Sir Guyon: “What you ask brings -to my mind that great Queen, fairest and best of all -that are in the wide world. She is wont to make a -great feast on the first day of the New Year, to -which come all knights that seek adventure and -desire to gain honour for themselves. At this feast, -at the beginning of the self-same year, I was -present; and it came to pass that this pilgrim -whom you have bidden with me to your feast, -stood forth before the Queen, and made his complaint -of a certain wicked fairy that wasted the -land wherein he dwelt, and wrought great damage -to its inhabitants. And when he had ended the -Queen set this task to me, unworthy as I am. -Nor did I refuse to take it in hand. Now the -name of this wicked fairy is Acrasia. Three times -has the moon waxed and waned since that day, -and I have already seen full proofs of the mischief -which she works. To subdue her, therefore, and to -bring her captive into the presence of Queen Gloriana -is the purpose which I set before myself.”</p> -<p>Then, the night being now far spent, all the -guests betook themselves to sleep.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_77">77</div> -<h2 id="c12"><span class="h2line1">CHAPTER XII</span> -<br /><span class="h2line2">HOW SIR GUYON CAME INTO GREAT PERIL</span></h2> -<p>Many perils did Sir Guyon encounter, which -it would take too long time to tell. Nor -were there perils only of battle, such as befell in -the meeting of pagan knights and the like. For -such he was well prepared; never did sturdier -champion lay spear in rest or wage war at close -quarters with his sword. Force could not overcome -him, but he could be led astray by fraud. -So it was when, in his journeyings, he came to a -broad water, which seemed to bar his way. While -he stood at the water’s brink, wondering how he -might win his way farther, suddenly there was -seen hard by a little boat rowed by a fair damsel. -When he had told his need she said: “Be content, -fair sir; step you aboard and I will take you to the -place which you desire.”</p> -<p>So Sir Guyon, nothing doubting, stepped into -the boat. But when he would have taken his -guide, the pilgrim, with him, he was denied. -“Nay, nay,” said the damsel, “we have not -space for the old man on this journey.” And -even while she was speaking the boat was already -far from the land, for indeed it was a magic craft; -nor could he even say farewell.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_78">78</div> -<p>The two had pleasant converse awhile, for the -damsel was gay and debonair, and the knight -courteous. Nevertheless, he somewhat misliked -her manner, and when in a short space they -came to the other side of the water, he perceived -that he had been led astray, and was not a little -displeased. “Lady,” said he, “you have done -me a wrong. This is not the place which I -sought; I did not think when I followed your -bidding that you would so deceive me.”</p> -<p>“Sir Knight,” she answered, “he that will -travel by water cannot always command his way; -winds and waves will not answer to his call: the -sea is wide, and ’tis easy to go astray thereon. -Yet here, methinks, you may abide awhile in -peace.”</p> -<p>So Sir Guyon stepped upon the shore, though -he was but half-content to find himself in such a -plight. Nevertheless, he could not but perceive -that it was a right pleasant place to which he -had come, for the ground was covered with -flowers, and the trees were green with the fresh -leaves of spring, and the sweet singing of birds -was heard on every side. And fairer and more -pleasant than all else was the damsel of the boat; -nevertheless, Sir Guyon was ever on the watch, -nor would he suffer himself to be beguiled. -“Maybe,” he said to himself, “this fair dame -designs to turn me from my quest. Why did -she, as by design, part me from my guide? Why -did she turn me aside from the way in which I -desired to go? This was more, I doubt not, than -an idle whim.” She, on the other hand, perceived -that she had failed of her intent, and was, in truth, -as willing that he should go as he was eager to -depart. So after a while she said: “Fair knight, -I perceive that it irks you to abide in this place. -Suffer me, therefore, to carry you to the other -shore.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_79">79</div> -<p>Well content, he stepped into the boat, and -was ferried across in the shortest space of time. -So he passed through this peril, it seemed, without -hurt, save indeed that he had lost his guide, for -the damsel in her craft took him to a place far -from where the guide had been left; and this -losing of the guide was, as will be seen, a very -sore hurt indeed.</p> -<p>After a while he came to a gloomy valley -covered in on all sides from the light of heaven -with the thick branches of trees. And here, in -the deepest and darkest shade, he saw sitting a -man of a most uncouth and savage aspect, having -his face all dark with smoke, and his eyes bleared, -and the hair of his head and his beard covered -with soot. His hands were black as the hands -of one who works in a forge, and his nails were -like to claws. He had an iron coat, all rusty -above, but underneath of gold, and finely wrought -with curious devices, though, indeed, it was -covered with dust and grime. In his lap he had -a mass of golden coin, which he counted, turning -over each piece as if he would feed his eyes with -the delight of seeing them. Round about him -were great heaps of gold, some of them of rude -ore, not yet smelted in the furnace, and some -smelted newly, in great squares and ingots, and -others in round plates without device; but for -the most part they bore the devices of ancient -kings and Cæsars. When the man beheld Sir -Guyon he rose as in great fear, as if he would -hide this precious store from a stranger’s eyes, -and began to pour it into a great hole that was -thereby. But Sir Guyon, leaping forward, caught -him by the hand, and, though he was not a little -dismayed by the things which he saw, restrained -him.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_80">80</div> -<p>“Man,” he said, “if, indeed, man you are, why -sit you here apart, hiding these piles of wealth, -and keeping them from being rightly used by -men?”</p> -<p>“Truly,” answered the man, “you are bold -and careless of yourself thus to trouble me. -Know that I am the god of this world, the -greatest god under heaven, Mammon by name. -From me come riches and renown, powers and -honours, and all things which men covet upon -earth. Know, then, that if you will serve me, -all these mountains of riches shall be yours; and -if these do not content you, I will give you tenfold -more.”</p> -<p>“Mammon,” answered the knight, “in vain -do you boast your godhead; in vain do you offer -me your gifts. Keep them for such as covet -such idle things, and look for a more fitting -servant. I am of those who regard honour and -strive for kingdoms; fair shields and steeds gaily -bedight and shining arms are pleasant to my -eyes.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_81">81</div> -<p>“Do you not perceive,” answered Mammon, -“O foolish knight, that money can furnish all -these things in which you delight? Shields, and -steeds, and arms it can provide in the twinkling of -an eye; ay, and crowns and kingdoms also. I -can throw down into the dust him that sits upon -the throne, and I can lift up to the throne him that -lies in the dust.”</p> -<p>“But I,” said Sir Guyon, “have other thoughts -of riches; that infinite mischiefs spring from them—strife -and debate and bloodshed. No crowns nor -kingdoms are yours, but you turn loyal truth to -treason; you break the sacred diadem in pieces, -and rend the purple robe of kingship. It is of you -that castles are surprised, great cities sacked and -burned, and kingdoms overthrown!”</p> -<p>Then Mammon waxed wroth and cried: “Why, -then, are men so eager to obtain a thing so evil? -Why do they so complain when they have it not, -and when they lose it, so upbraid?”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_82">82</div> -<p>And when the knight answered these questions -by telling of how in the old time man was content -without riches, and how he had been corrupted by -the lust of gold and silver, Mammon replied: -“Nay, my son, let be these stories of ancient -days. You who live in these latter times must be -content to take your wage for the work you do. -Come now, you shall have what you will of these -riches; and if you like them not, then you are free -to refuse. Only, if you refuse, blame me not -afterwards.”</p> -<p>Then said the knight, for, being but mortal -man, he was touched by the sight of great riches: -“I would not take aught that is offered me unless I -know that it has been rightly got. How can I be -assured that you have not taken these things unlawfully -from the rightful owner?”</p> -<p>“Nay,” cried Mammon, “that is but idle talk. -Never did eye behold these things, never did hand -handle them. I have kept them secret both from -heaven and from earth.”</p> -<p>“But,” said the knight, “what place is large -enough to hold such store, or safe enough to keep -it from robbery?”</p> -<p>“Come and see,” answered Mammon. And -the knight followed him, but he had done more -wisely to stay behind.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_83">83</div> -<p>Mammon led him through the depths of the -wood, till they came to a secret way which was -hollowed out in the earth. This they entered and -followed awhile, till they came to where it opened -out into a wide plain. Across the plain there was -a broad highway which led to the dwelling of Pluto. -On either side of this road were dreadful shapes—Pain -holding an iron whip, and Strife with a bloody -knife in his hand, and Revenge, and Treason, and -Jealousy. Fear, also, was there, ever trembling, -and seeking in vain where he might hide himself, -and Sorrow, crouching in darkness, and Shame, -hiding her face from every eye. So they came at -last to a narrow door, which stood fast shut, with -one which was yawning wide open hard by. The -narrow door was the door of riches, and the wide -the door of hell. This opened to Mammon of its -own accord; and Sir Guyon followed him, fearing -nothing. But behind the knight there followed -close a monstrous fiend, watching him, that he -might do him to death if he should lay a covetous -hand or cast a longing eye on anything he might -see; for such was the law of the place. The walls -and the floor and the roof were all gold, but covered -with dust and decay; and piled up on every side -were huge chests of iron, bound all of them with -double bands, and on the floor were the bones of -dead men, who, in time past, had sought to win -some spoil for themselves, and so had come by their -death. But not a word did Sir Guyon speak. So -they came to a great door of iron; this, too, opened -to them as of its own accord, and showed such a -store of wealth as could not be seen in all the world -beside. Then Mammon turned to the knight and -said: “See now the happiness of the world; here is -that for which men strive and struggle. Lo! I -lay before you all that you can desire.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_84">84</div> -<p>The knight answered: “I do refuse your -proffered grace. I seek not to be made happy in -such fashion. I set before mine eyes another happiness. -I seek another end; I would spend my life -in brave deeds. I desire rather to be lord of -them who have riches than to have them for -myself.”</p> -<p>Mammon gnashed his teeth to hear such an -answer, for he had thought that the sight would -overcome the soul of any mortal man, and that -being so overcome the knight would be his prey. -But not yet did he give up all hope. He led him -into yet another chamber, in which were a hundred -furnaces all ablaze, and at every furnace strange -creatures busy at work. Some worked the bellows -which raised the fire to white heat; and some -scummed off the dross from the molten gold, and -some stirred it with great ladles. But when they -saw the shape of mortal man, they all ceased from -their work, and looked at him with wondering -eyes. And he was not a little dismayed to see -them, so foul and hideous were they to behold.</p> -<p>Then Mammon spoke again: “See now what -mortal eye has never seen before. You would -know whence come the riches which men so -fervently desire. Look, here you see their source -and origin. Here is the fountain of the world’s -whole wealth. Think, and change your mood, lest -haply hereafter you may wish and not be able to -obtain.”</p> -<p>Said the knight, “Mammon, once more I -refuse the thing which you offer. I have all that -I need; why should I ask for more? Suffer me to -follow my own way.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_85">85</div> -<p>Great was Mammon’s wrath to hear his offers -so refused, but he would try yet another temptation. -He took the Knight into a very lofty, spacious -chamber in which was assembled a great company -of people from every nation under heaven. All of -them were pressing forward with great uproar to -the chamber’s upper end, where, upon a dais, was -set a lofty throne. On the throne there sat a -woman gorgeously attired, clad in such royal robes -as never were worn by earthly prince. Right fair -of face was she to behold, of such a beauty that she -seemed, as it were, to make a brightness in the -chamber. But the beauty was not indeed her -own. It was but a pretence, cunningly devised to -delude the hearts of men. In her hand she held a -great chain, of which the upper end was fastened -to the sky, and the lower went down into hell. -All the crowd that thronged about her sought to -lay hold of this same chain, hoping thereby to climb -to some high estate. Some were fain to rise by -the help of riches, and some by flattery, and some -by help of friendship, but all thought only of themselves. -And they that were high kept others -down, and they that were low would not suffer -others to rise; every man was against his fellow.</p> -<p>Then said Sir Guyon: “What means this that -I see? What is this throng that crowds about the -lady’s throne? And the lady, who is she?”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_86">86</div> -<p>Mammon answered: “That fair lady about whom -these people crowd is my own dear daughter. Her -name is Philotime (which, being interpreted, is -Love of Honour). She is the fairest woman on -the earth, could you but see her in the upper air, -for the darkness of the place hides her beauty. -Her, if you will, you shall have to wife, that she -may advance you to high dignity.”</p> -<p>“I thank you, sir,” said the knight, “for the -honour which you design for me. But I am only -mortal man, and not fit match for an immortal -mate. And were it otherwise, my troth is given to -another, and it would ill become a loyal knight to -break his faith.”</p> -<p>Again was Mammon greatly moved to wrath, -but he hid it in his heart, and led the knight into -a garden full of herbs and trees, not such as earth -puts forth, in the upper air, to delight the souls of -men: but such as have about them the atmosphere -of death. The cypress was there, and the black -ebony, and hemlock, which unjust Athens gave in -old times to Socrates, wisest of mortal men. These -were gloomy to behold. But in the midst was -a tree, splendid with apples of gold. Hercules -planted it with the apples which he won from the -garden of the daughters of Atlas, and it bore fruits -which were the occasions of strife, such as that -which Discord threw among the guests at the -marriage-feast of Peleus and Thetis. “For the -Fairest!” was written on it. Hence came the -strife of the goddesses, and the Judgment of Paris, -and the stealing of Helen, and the bringing to the -ground of the towers of Troy.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_87">87</div> -<p>Much did the knight marvel to see the tree, -for it spread its branches far and wide across the -garden, and even beyond the garden’s bounds; for -it was compassed about with a great mound. And -the knight, desiring to see all that could be seen -of so strange a place, climbed upon the bank and -looked. And lo! there flowed below it a dark and -dismal stream, which men call the River of Wailing. -In this he saw many miserable creatures; and one -he noted especially, who was always clutching at -the fruit which hung from the tree, and making as -though he would drink from the stream; and still -the fruit seemed to draw back from his hand and -the water from his mouth. The knight, seeing -him so tormented, asked him who he was and how -he came to be in such a plight.</p> -<p>“I am Tantalus,” answered the wretch, “the -most miserable of all men; in old time I feasted -with the gods, and now I die of hunger and -thirst.”</p> -<p>Looking a little further he saw one who sought -to wash in the stream hands covered with filth; but -for all that he washed they were not one whit the -cleaner. And when the knight inquired of him -who he might be, he answered: “I am Pontius -Pilate, most unjust of judges. I condemned most -unrighteously the Lord of Life to die, and washed -my hands to show that I was innocent of his blood, -but in truth I was most guilty.”</p> -<p>Then Mammon, coming to him again, said: -“Will you not even now take of the good things -which I offer you, for yet there is time?”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_88">88</div> -<p>But Sir Guyon was aware of his guile, and -would not. “Take me back,” he said, “to the -place from which I came,” and Mammon was constrained -to obey, for it was not permitted to him to -keep the knight or any man against his will. He -led him back, therefore, to the upper air; but as -soon as Sir Guyon felt the wind blow upon his face, -for want of food and sleep he fell into a swoon, -and lay without sense upon the ground.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_89">89</div> -<h2 id="c13"><span class="h2line1">CHAPTER XIII</span> -<br /><span class="h2line2">OF TWO PAGAN KNIGHTS</span></h2> -<p>While Sir Guyon was beholding the wonders -of the house of Mammon, his faithful guide, -the pilgrim, was seeking him, and came by happy -chance, or leading of the powers above, to the -place where he lay. Sore troubled he was to see -him in so sore a plight, for indeed he lay as one -that was dead. Nevertheless, feeling his pulse with -trembling hand, the pilgrim found that it still did -beat. Thereat greatly rejoicing he tended him -with all care and kindness.</p> -<p>While he was busy with this tending, he lifted -his eyes and saw two knights riding towards him -clad in bright armour and an old man pacing by -their side. The two were brothers, Pyrochles -and Cymochles by name, and the old man was -Archimage. Well he knew who they were, for -Sir Guyon had done battle with the two in the -time past, and had vanquished them, nor did he -doubt that the old man, for all his reverend looks, -was a wicked sorcerer. And they, too, knew who -he was, and that the knight who lay upon the -ground was their whilom adversary, Sir Guyon. -And first Sir Pyrochles cried aloud: “Old man, -leave that dead man to us. A traitor and a coward -he was, while he was yet alive; and now he lies -dishonoured!”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_90">90</div> -<p>“Nay, Sir Knight,” answered the pilgrim, -“you do wrong so to revile the dead. He was -a true knight and valiant in the field, as none -know more surely than yourself.”</p> -<p>Then said the other pagan, Cymochles: “Old -man, you dote. And, indeed, what know you of -knighthood and valour? All is not gold that -glitters; nor are all good knights that know how -to set spear in rest and use the sword. Let a -man be judged by his end. There he lies dead -on the field, and the dead are nothing worth.”</p> -<p>Pyrochles spoke again: “Ay, he is dead and -I must forego the vengeance that I vowed to have -upon him. Nevertheless, what I can that will I -have. I will despoil him of his arms. Why should -a dead body be arrayed in so noble a fashion?”</p> -<p>“Nay, Sir Knight,” cried the pilgrim, “I pray -you not to do so foul a deed. ’Tis a vile thing to -rob the dead. Surely it would better befit a noble -knight to leave these things to be the ornament of -his tomb.”</p> -<p>“What tomb?” cried Pyrochles, in his rage; “the -raven and the kite are tomb enough for such as -he.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_91">91</div> -<p>Thus speaking, he laid a rude hand upon Sir -Guyon’s shield, and Cymochles began to unlace -his helmet. But while they were so busied, they -chanced to spy a knight of gallant mien and -bravely accoutred, riding towards them, with a -squire behind him, who carried a spear of ebony -and a covered shield. And Archimage, so cunning -was he, knew him from afar, and he cried to the -two brothers: “Rise, prepare yourselves for battle. -Here comes the sturdiest knight in all the world, -Prince Arthur. Many a pagan has he laid low in -battle. You must use all your skill to hold your -own against him.”</p> -<p>So the two made themselves ready for battle. -And now the strange knight rode up, and with all -courtesy made his salute to the company, to which -greeting the two brothers made but a churlish return. -He said to the pilgrim: “Tell me, reverend -sir, what misfortune has befallen this knight. Did -he die in course of nature, or by treason, or in fair -fight?”</p> -<p>Said the pilgrim: “He is not dead, but in a -swoon that has the likeness of death.”</p> -<p>Then Prince Arthur, turning to the two brothers, -said with all courtesy: “Valiant sirs, who, I doubt -not, have just complaint against this knight, who -lies here dead, or seeming dead upon the ground, -will you not abate your wrath awhile? I would not -challenge your right, but would rather entreat your -pardon for this helpless body.”</p> -<p>“But who are you?” said Cymochles, “that -make yourself his daysman? Who are you that -would hinder me from wreaking on his vile carcase -the vengeance which I should have required had he -lived? The man is dead, but his offence still lives.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_92">92</div> -<p>“It is but true,” said the Prince, “that evil lives -after death, and that the curse goes down even to -the third and fourth generation, so stern is the judgment -of God. But yet the knight who raises his -hand against the dead, sins against his honour.”</p> -<p>But Pyrochles made reply: “Stranger, you -make yourself a sharer in the dead man’s crime.” -And as he spoke, he lifted his great sword and -dealt a blow which, but that the Prince’s horse -swerved aside, had surely laid him on the earth. -He reeled somewhat in the saddle, but so true was -his seat, still kept his place.</p> -<p>Great was his wrath at such treacherous attack. -“Traitor,” he said, “you have broken the law of -arms, so to strike without challenge given, and you -shall suffer such penalty as befits.” So speaking, -he thrust his spear, and thought with that one -thrust to end the battle. And so, indeed, it would -have fallen out, but for Sir Guyon’s shield, which -the pagan carried. Yet even through this, with -its seven folds, did the spear-head pass, and pierced -Pyrochles’ shoulder, and drove him bleeding to the -earth.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_93">93</div> -<p>When Cymochles saw what had happened, he -leapt forward in great wrath, crying: “Now, by -Mahomet, cursed thief! You shall pay for this -blow!” and smote him on the crest so mightily -that he had no chance but to leave his saddle, else -had his head been cleft in twain. Now was the -Prince in no small distress, for what could he do -with his spear alone against two stalwart knights? -For sword he had none, and they too were both -fully armed, and well skilled in fight, unwounded -one, and the other wounded indeed, but only -made thereby more furious. Bravely did he bear -himself, and bravely held his own, wounding now -this adversary and now that, yet did not himself -escape without hurt, for Cymochles wounded him -sorely in the side, so that the blood flowed out -amain. And when the brothers saw it, they rejoiced -greatly, thinking that the end had come. -But now the pilgrim, seeing that the Prince was -hard bested, and all for want of a sword, came near -and put Sir Guyon’s blade into his hand, saying, -“My son, God bless your right hand; use the -sword as he that owns it would have used!”</p> -<p>Right glad was the knight to have this help, -and advanced himself with new courage to his -task. He smote first this brother and then that, -and both so fiercely that, though they were two -against one, they could not hold their own, but -began to give way. Only the Prince was at this -disadvantage that, when Pyrochles held out against -him the shield of Sir Guyon with the likeness of -Queen Gloriana on it, his hand retreated and forebore -the stroke. Once and again was the pagan -saved thereby from instant doom. But for all that -the appointed hour drew nigh. Cymochles, thinking -to end the battle, smote the Prince upon the -hauberk. So fierce was the blow, that it broke the -links of the mail in twain, and made the Prince to -reel, as he had never reeled before. But his -courage rose all the higher, and his strength seemed -to be doubled. High in the air he lifted Sir -Guyon’s sword, and smote the pagan’s helmet so -fiercely that he shore it in two, and the steel pierced -to the brain, so that he fell dying to the ground.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_94">94</div> -<p>When Pyrochles beheld what had befallen his -brother, he was so filled with rage that he cast -away all caution and care, and rushed in madman’s -fashion upon the Prince. And now might be seen -how an evil deed finds its recompense. The sword -which the pagan carried was, in truth, the Prince’s -own, which had been filched from him by craft. -Now Archimage had warned the knight before, -saying: “Use not this blade against its rightful -lord; it will not serve your will.” And well he -knew that he spoke the truth. But Pyrochles had -laughed him to scorn, saying:</p> -<p>“You think too much, old man, of magic charms -and words.”</p> -<p>Yet now he found that the old man’s words -were true. So perceiving that he smote to no -purpose, he threw the sword down and leapt upon -the Prince, and caught him round the middle and -thought to throw him to the earth. But he strove -to no purpose, for the Prince surpassed him both in -strength and in skill, so that he was thrown to the -ground, whereon he lay helpless as a bittern in the -claws of an eagle. Full of rage he was, but he did -not move nor cast a look upon his conqueror. But -the Prince, full of courtesy and kindness, said: -“Pagan, this is an evil day for you; but if you will -give up your false faith, and yield yourself to be my -liegeman for ever, I will give you life in reward for -your courage, and blot out from my memory all -your misdeeds.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_95">95</div> -<p>“Fool,” cried the pagan in his rage, “I defy -your gift; use your fortune as you will, slay me, for -I would not live at your behest.” And the Prince, -much against his will, smote him that he died.</p> -<p>And now Sir Guyon, waking from his swoon, -saw the pilgrim at his side, and cried out with joy, -“Dear friend, for lack of whose guidance I have -wandered long, how gladly do I see you again. -But where are my shield and my sword?” Then -the pilgrim told him what had befallen, and the -knight rendered his thanks to the Prince right -courteously, and he as courteously received them.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_96">96</div> -<h2 id="c14"><span class="h2line1">CHAPTER XIV</span> -<br /><span class="h2line2">OF QUEEN ACRASIA</span></h2> -<p>All day the two journeyed together with much -sweet converse, and, when it was evening, -they came to a fair castle, of which the gate was -fast barred. So the Prince bade his squire wind -his horn under the castle wall, which thing he did -with such a will, that a watchman straightway looked -forth from an upper storey; but the gate was barred -as before. “What want you, strangers?” he asked.</p> -<p>“We seek shelter for the night,” answered the -squire.</p> -<p>“Fly,” cried the man, “fly, my friends, for -your lives. Willingly would I give you shelter, -but this is no safe abiding place, so closely and -fiercely do our enemies assail us. Truly many -knights, coming as you have come this day, have -perished miserably.” And while he was speaking -a thousand villainous creatures swarmed up from -all the rocks and caves about, armed in the -strangest fashion, some with pikes, and some -with clubs, and some with stakes hardened in the -fire. Fiercely they rushed at the knights and -their company, and for a while drove them back -by mere force of numbers. But soon they were -forced to fly, and though they came again and -again, yet before the night fell they departed and -left the travellers in peace. And now the castle -gate was opened wide, and the lady of the place, -Alma by name, coming to the door with a fair -company of knights and dames, bade them -welcome. Then she showed them her castle, -which was marvellously well-ordered in all its -parts. There was a noble hall in which the -guests—and there was already gathered a goodly -company of knights and ladies—were entertained; -and a library where there was a great store of -goodly books, and all other things which the -heart of man could desire.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_97">97</div> -<p>On the morrow, Sir Guyon and his guide set -forth again, but Prince Arthur tarried behind, -desiring to help the Lady Alma against the -enemies who sought to take her castle. And this -he did in such a fashion that she was troubled no -more with them. Yet of his great deeds I will -not further speak, being rather concerned with -the doings of Sir Guyon, who was indeed now -come to the accomplishment of his task.</p> -<p>First they came to a great water, where there was -a ferry-boat ready prepared for their coming. In -this they embarked and set forth, a stout ferryman -being at hand to manage the craft. Two -days they sailed and saw no land; but on the -third day, as the light began to dawn in the -East, they heard the sound of a great roaring. -Now the pilgrim held the tiller and steered the -craft. To him said the ferryman: “Pilgrim, steer -an even course; there is a dangerous place which -we must pass across,—on the one side is a great -whirlpool, and a ship that comes too near it is -sure to sink, and on the other a great rock of -magnet, which, if we keep not a due distance, -will draw us to itself. Steer then so that we -may not fall into this danger or into that.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_98">98</div> -<p>Right skilfully did the pilgrim steer, and great -was the need. The whirlpool, indeed, showed no -sign of what had happened there before, for all -was swallowed up in its depths; but on the rock -they saw the ribs of ships which had been broken -upon it, and the bones of men lying in its clefts. -And birds of prey, mews and cormorants and the -like, sat watching for such spoils as should come. -Right willingly did they pass from that place of -death. And when the ferryman, plying his oars -with sturdy strength, had rowed awhile, Sir Guyon -cried, pointing with his hand: “I see land yonder; -steer thereto, good sir.”</p> -<p>“Nay,” said the ferryman, “it is not so. -That is no land which you see, but what men -call the Wandering Islands. Many men have -come to their deaths through them. They seem -firm ground, fairly grown with trees and grass and -flowers; but let a man once set his foot upon -them, he can never recover it again.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_99">99</div> -<p>So they journeyed on in a straight course, and -in so doing came to one of these islands, whereon -they espied a fair lady sitting. On the rock she -sat, and she had a little boat hard by. “Come -hither, my friends,” she said. “I have somewhat -here which I would show you, and which you -would willingly see.”</p> -<p>But Sir Guyon said: “Nay, nay. We are -otherwise minded; this is the Lady of the Lake -who caused me to be parted from my guide.” So -they passed on, and took no heed. But when, -after a while, they passed hard by another island, -on which sat a maiden in sore distress, as it -seemed, Sir Guyon’s heart was moved; for was it -not a good knight’s part to succour ladies in -distress? “Steer thither,” he cried.</p> -<p>“Not so. This damsel in distress is but a -show; no damsel she, but some ill creature ready -to devour any that she may deceive.” So they -passed on, nor did they halt when, passing by a -pleasant bay, they heard a sound of sweet singing.</p> -<p>“O Guyon,” such was the song which they -heard, “flower of chivalry, most famous of all -knights upon earth, turn thy bark hither, and rest -awhile.”</p> -<p>“Listen not,” said the pilgrim, “they do but -seek to lure you to your death.”</p> -<p>These things past, they came to the place for -which they were bound. And the pilgrim said: -“This, Sir Knight, is the place where you must -contend for the mastery. Take your arms, and -make yourself ready, for the hour of trial is at -hand.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_100">100</div> -<p>And now the ferryman drove the boat upon the -shore, and Sir Guyon and his guide stepped out -upon the sand. Straightway they heard a hideous -bellowing as of savage beasts, and soon the beasts -themselves came in view, threatening as if they -would devour them. But no sooner did the pilgrim -hold out his staff than they ceased their roaring, -and humbled themselves to the ground. And now -they came to the Bower of Bliss, a place most -daintily adorned with all that could please the eye. -The porch by which they entered was of ivory -cunningly adorned with carved work, in which was -told the story of Jason and Medea; how he sailed -in the good ship <i>Argo</i>, and how he won the love of -the king’s daughter, and how she helped him to -win the fleece of gold from the dragon which -guarded it, and how she fled with him over the sea. -And when they had passed through the porch they -came to a very fair meadow, adorned with the -fairest trees and flowers. And the meadow being -passed they came to another gate, where there sat -a comely damsel, who pressed the clusters of a vine -which hung above her head into a cup. This cup -she proffered to the knight, and he, suspecting evil -in all that seemed most fair and pleasant, took it -from her hand, and threw it violently on the ground, -so that it was broken into many pieces, and all the -liquor was spilt.</p> -<div class="img" id="pic4"> -<img src="images/p_04_p111.jpg" alt="" width="707" height="998" /> -<p class="caption"><span class="sc">Sir Guyon and the Men in Bestial Shapes.</span></p> -</div> -<div class="pb" id="Page_101">101</div> -<p>Many other tempting sights did they see, and -all the knight passed by unscathed, the pilgrim not -ceasing on occasion to give counsel and warning. -So at last they came to the most sacred place of -the Bower, where the queen herself, Acrasia by -name, had her abode. Fair she was beyond all -words and daintily arrayed, and at her feet there -lay a goodly knight asleep. He was of goodly -aspect, just come to the years of manhood, with the -down newly sprung upon his cheeks and his lips. -His arms hung idly on a tree hard by, but his shield -was without an emblem, as if he had put away the -purpose of his life.</p> -<p>Sir Guyon and the pilgrim drew near, none -seeming to heed them, so occupied were they with -the pleasures of the place. And then the pilgrim -threw over the queen and the knight a net which -he had cunningly prepared for that same purpose. -Fast did it hold them for all their struggles, neither -force nor art could avail them, though they strove -with all their might. The queen being thus -captured, they bound her with chains of adamant, -for nothing else could hold her safely; but the -knight they soon set free, for he was of a noble -nature, though it was much decayed by evil ways, -and he was willing to take to himself good advice -and counsel. And the beauty and glory of the -Bower did they deface and spoil, the goodly carvings -they broke in pieces, and cut down the -pleasant groves. As for the beasts, when the -pilgrim raised his staff over them, they left their -bestial shapes and came back to their own, for, -indeed, they were men whom this same evil -queen had changed to the forms and thoughts of -beasts. So did Sir Guyon perform the command of -Queen Gloriana.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_102">102</div> -<h2 id="c15"><span class="h2line1">CHAPTER XV</span> -<br /><span class="h2line2">BRITOMART</span></h2> -<p>Sir Guyon returned to rest awhile in the -castle of the Lady Alma, where also he had -Prince Arthur for companion. Acrasia he sent to -Queen Gloriana under a strong guard, lest perchance -her friends and followers, of whom there -was great multitude, should seek to deliver her. -After a while the two knights set out again on their -journey. Many good deeds they did, helping the -weak and setting right the things that were wrong. -It happened on a certain day that they espied a -knight riding towards them, with an aged squire by -his side, who seemed too weak for the burden which -he bare. The knight had a shield with the device -of a lion on a field of gold. Sir Guyon said to -Prince Arthur, “Let me, I pray you, have this -turn.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_103">103</div> -<p>So he put his spear to rest, and charged, and -the stranger did likewise. They met full and fair; -Sir Guyon’s spear, so fast and furious was the -onset, was like to pierce the stranger’s shield, but -this it did not avail to do, nor did it drive the -stranger from his seat: nevertheless he was somewhat -shaken. On the other hand, Sir Guyon -himself was carried back, ere he was aware, nigh -upon a spear’s length behind the crupper of his -saddle, yet without hurt to life or limb. Nevertheless -his anger was great, for never since the day -when he first bore arms as a knight had he been -dismounted in such fashion. And indeed, if he had -known the whole truth of the matter, his anger had -been both less and greater; less because the spear -by which he had been overthrown was of the magic -sort, and greater, because the knight by whom he -had been overthrown was no man, but a maid, even -the famous Britomart. Full of rage he was and hot -to do away his disgrace, as leaping from the ground -he drew his sword. And now the pilgrim in great -haste came between the knight and his purpose, for -being a holy man and wise, he perceived that there -was some marvellous power in that same spear-point. -This indeed he did not disclose, for it was -not lawful so to do, but he made other pretence: -“Nay, Sir Knight, it were ill advised to seek -amends with your sword for the mischance of your -spear. If haply your steed swerved somewhat to -the side, or your page was somewhat careless in -the ordering of your equipage, why should you be -so carried away by wrath; for, remember, you -have no quarrel with this knight.”</p> -<p>With such prudent counsels did the pilgrim pacify -Sir Guyon’s wrath. Thus concord was made between -the two, in which the prince also was joined.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_104">104</div> -<p>When they had journeyed awhile Prince Arthur -and Sir Guyon set off on an adventure of their own, -to rescue some fair lady in distress. But Britomart, -finding that they two would suffice for that -enterprise, on which her own mind was in nowise -set, rode on without company until she came to a -fair castle, with a meadow before the gate, on which -she saw six knights setting upon one. He was not -a little pressed by such odds, yet in nowise dismayed. -Indeed, the six dared not to stand up -against him face to face, so shrewd were the blows -which he dealt them, but sought to take him at a -disadvantage from behind. Britomart endured not -to see such knavish work, but setting spurs to her -horse and crying aloud, “Have done with such -foul tricks,” made all haste to help. And when -they ceased awhile from the attack, she said to the -single knight: “How comes it, sir, that you do -battle in such fashion and at such odds?”</p> -<p>“Sir,” he made answer, “these six would have -me swear that the lady of this castle hard by is -fairer than the lady whom I love. Now that I -utterly refuse; I had sooner die than break my -plighted word in such a fashion.”</p> -<p>Then said one of the six, speaking for his -fellows: “In this castle which you see there dwells -a lady of such a beauty that none in all the world -can be compared with her. She has ordained this -law, that any knight coming to this place, if he have -no lady-love already, shall vow himself to her service; -but if he have such a lady-love, then he shall -confess that she is of less grace and beauty, or -failing so to do, shall do battle with us.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_105">105</div> -<p>“By heaven!” cried Britomart, “this is a hard -choice! And tell me, pray, if this knight be -obedient to this same law, what reward shall he -have?”</p> -<p>“He shall have the lady’s fair regard. But tell -us, sir, for yourself—have you a lady-love?”</p> -<p>“That,” said Britomart, “I answer not; whether -I have such or have not, I pay no such homage as -you ask to your lady. Rather, I take up this good -knight’s cause against you.” And even while she -spoke, she rode at one of the six and laid him low -upon the ground, and then at another, and then -again at a third, with the like end. Meanwhile the -knight had discomfited the fourth. And the two -that were left were fain to sue for peace. “See,” -said Britomart, “how truth and honour prevail!”</p> -<p>Then was Britomart taken into the castle and -received with great honour. Yet she misliked the -place and the company, for that they both seemed -unduly given over to ease and luxury. Nor would -she doff her armour, nor, indeed, do aught but raise -the visor of her helmet. And when the lady of -the place, seeing that the stranger was very fair and -of a noble presence, bore herself as one greatly -enamoured, she departed in great discontent. The -six knights would fain have stopped her going, and -one of them, Gardanté by name, shooting with an -arrow, for to come to closer quarters was not to his -mind, wounded her in the side. But he and his -companions received manifold more hurt than they -gave, not only from Britomart, but from the strange -knight and Sir Guyon also, for they, hearing the -tumult, came to her help.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_106">106</div> -<p>As they journeyed, it came into Sir Guyon’s -mind to inquire of his companion concerning her -condition, and how she came to be wandering in -these parts. Britomart was not a little disturbed -by this questioning. For a while she was silent, -and could make no answer, but trembled and -blushed, no knight but a very woman. But when -the passion had passed, and she had gathered her -strength together, she said: “Sir Knight, I would -have you know that from a child I have been -trained in things of war, to carry a shield, and to -put spear in rest, that the life of ease, which -women, for the most part, follow, pleased me -not; and as for fingering the fine needle and -the slender thread, by heaven! I had sooner be -struck dead by a foeman’s spear! And so, all my -heart being set on deeds of arms and perilous -adventures, by sea and by land, wheresoever they -might be met, I came from my own country, which -men call the Greater Britain, into this land. For it -was told me that in this same fairy land many such -adventures were to be found, and much glory and -honour won thereupon. And now, courteous sir, I -would ask you one question: Know you, perchance, -of one Artegall, for he has done me a -wrong for which I would fain requite him?”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_107">107</div> -<p>Scarcely had she spoken the words, when she -fain would have called them back. But Sir Guyon, -taking them up with no small heat, made answer: -“Fair warrior, surely you do ill to accuse so true -and loyal a knight as is Sir Artegall with ill-behaviour. -Truly of all who have ever taken -part in tilt or tourney, there is not one that stands -in better repute than he. It were indeed the -greatest of marvels that he should do an unworthy -act, or even think in his heart an unworthy thought. -And if you have come with such a purpose in your -heart, then I say that you have journeyed far on a -false errand.”</p> -<p>Now Britomart, in her secret heart, was glad to -hear such praises of Sir Artegall. For, indeed, as -will be seen, she loved him, and it was her woman’s -craft, by speaking ill of him to his friends, so to call -forth his praises. And when, with this thought in -her heart, she had again uttered some injurious -words concerning him, Sir Guyon answered: “It -would be well, lady, that you should listen to reason -in this matter. Truly he is not one whom you can -compel by force to do this thing or that, for there is -not, I take it, a knight upon earth that can match -him in equal fight. And, indeed, for what you ask -me, where is Sir Artegall to be found, I cannot tell -you. He is not one who will remain for long time -in any certain place; rather he wanders round the -world, seeking occasion for great deeds, by which -he can help to right such as suffer wrong.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_108">108</div> -<p>Britomart was greatly pleased to hear such -praises of the knight. Still she dissembled the -matter and said: “Whether it be easy or hard to -find the man I know not; but at least I would -know how I may profitably seek him. Tell me -some mark by which I may know him, the manner -of his shield, the fashion of his arms, the bearing of -his steed, and other things by which I may certainly -know the man should I chance to encounter him.” -Then Sir Guyon told her all that she would know, -and she, listening to all that he said, found it most -welcome to her heart.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_109">109</div> -<h2 id="c16"><span class="h2line1">CHAPTER XVI</span> -<br /><span class="h2line2">OF MERLIN’S MAGIC MIRROR</span></h2> -<p>There was a certain king of old time in the -land of Deheubarth, which men now call -South Wales. His name was Ryence, and he had -for his principal counsellor one Merlin, who was a -great magician. This Merlin made by his art a -wonderful mirror, which was so contrived that he -who looked in it could see anything from the lowest -parts of the earth to the highest part of the heavens, -if only it concerned him. If a foe contrived any -evil against him, if a friend had used any falsehood -in respect of him, there he could see it plainly set -forth. This mirror Merlin gave to the king for a -protection, that if at any time an enemy should -invade his dominions, he should know of his design -before tidings could come to him from without, and -so should be able to be beforehand with him. -Never had prince a more noble present, nor one -more worthy of reward, for there could be no treason -within the realm or enmity without but that it came -straightway to the king’s knowledge.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_110">110</div> -<p>Now Britomart was the daughter of King -Ryence, and it chanced on a certain day that she -came into his closet, for he kept nothing secret -from her, seeing that she was his only child and the -heir of his kingdom, and there saw Merlin’s mirror. -She had seen it indeed not once or twice only, and -knew its virtues. There came into her head the -thought that she might see therein the image of the -man who should be her husband. Such a thought -maidens are wont to entertain, and Britomart, being -her father’s only child, and knowing that she would -one day come to the kingdom, was the more -curious in this regard, nor had she had to that time -any thought of one man more than of another. So -looking into the mirror she saw a very comely -knight, armed cap-à-pie. He had the visor of his -helmet up, showing a face that would strike fear -into an enemy and be loving to a friend. He was -tall of stature, and bore himself with a manly grace. -For his crest he had a hound couchant, and his -armour seemed of ancient fashion, massive and -strong to look at; on it was written in old letters -these words, “<span class="sc">The Arms of Achilles which -Artegall did win</span>.” The shield was of seven -folds, and it bore an ermilin crowned, white on a field -of blue. The maiden looked and liked well what -she saw, and went her way, not knowing—such was -the simplicity of her age—that she had seen with -her eyes the fate that should rule the fortunes of her -life. That keen archer Love had wounded her -with his arrow, but she knew it not. Yet from that -day she began to droop. No longer did she carry -herself with princely pride. Sad and solemn was -she, and full of fancies, yet knew not why. That -she ailed somewhat she was well aware, but thought -it was not love, but some passing mood of melancholy. -Such was she by day, and at night, when -she laid herself down to rest, sleep fled far from her -eyes. She kept a sorrowful watch as the hours of -the night went by, and she watered her couch with -her tears; and if, when nature was worn out with -these long watchings, she fell into some brief -slumber, then some fearful dreams would come and -bring with them a worse unrest.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_111">111</div> -<p>One night her nurse, Glaucé by name, caught -her in her arms as she was leaping from her bed, -and held her down by force. “Ah, my child,” she -cried, “how is it that you are in this evil plight? -What is it that has changed your cheerful mood to -this sadness? Surely there is some cause for these -troubles that haunt you by night, and drive away -sleep from your eyes. And in the days when your -equals in age disport themselves, you mope in -solitary corners, and have no enjoyment of your -princely life. I doubt much whether the cause be -not love; yet if the love be worthy of your race -and royal birth—and that it is I seem to myself to -read by many signs and tokens—then I do swear -most solemnly to help you. Away, dear child, with -your fears! Neither danger or death shall keep -me from bringing you due relief.” Then she caught -the maid in her arms, and embraced her in all -tenderness, and chafed her limbs to drive away the -cold, and kissed her eyes, still entreating that she -should show the secret of her heart. For a while -the maid was silent; then she said, “Dear nurse, -why should you grieve for me? Is it not enough -that I must die? Must you die also?”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_112">112</div> -<p>“Talk not of dying,” cried the nurse; “never -was wound yet for which no salve could be found. -The god who has wounded you has, I doubt not, in -his quiver another arrow for your lover’s heart.”</p> -<p>So they talked together; the maid would have -it that there was no remedy for her trouble; the old -nurse still steadfastly affirmed that the cure could -easily be found. At last the damsel told the secret -of her grief, as it seemed to her: “Alas, dear -mother,” she said, “it is no living man whose image -dwells in my heart and makes this pain; it is but -the shadow and semblance of a knight; I saw him -one day in the magic mirror of the king my father; -this is the baited hook which, as some foolish fish, -I swallowed; it is this thought that brings me to -my death.”</p> -<p>“Is this all, my daughter?” cried the nurse; -“then is nothing strange or against nature here. -Why should you not set your heart on one who -seemed so worthy of your love?”</p> -<p>“Oh, mother,” answered the girl, “I seemed to -myself like the Greek boy of old who saw his own -face in the fountain and perished miserably.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_113">113</div> -<p>“Nay,” cried the nurse, “he was but the -lover of a shadow, and rightly faded into a -flower. But of this image which you saw, there -is, be sure, a substance somewhere, and there are -arts by which it may be found. And now, dear -child, let me give you my counsel. If you can -banish this thought from your mind till the convenient -time be come, then do so. If it is too -strong for you, then I vow and promise that, by -one means or another, I will find this very knight -whose image you beheld.”</p> -<p>The maid was somewhat encouraged by these -words, and slept awhile. But on the morrow, and -as the days went by, the old trouble came again, -and Glaucé, seeing that neither words nor prayers, -nor strange spells of the magic art, for such she -tried, were of any avail, judged that some other -remedy must needs be found. What this remedy -might be she long doubted in herself. At last it -seemed to her that he who had made the mirror, -that is to say, the wise magician Merlin, might tell -her in what land the knight of the image might -dwell, for though he dwelt in farthest Ind, yet -find him she would. Forthwith these two, that -is to say, Glaucé and the maiden Britomart, disguised -themselves in mean attire, that no one -might learn their purpose, and betook themselves -to Maridunum, where, in a cave which he had -hollowed out for himself beneath the earth, so as -to escape from the curious eyes of men, Merlin -had his abode. When they were come to the -place they stood awhile without, in doubt and -fear, whether they had done well in making so -bold a venture.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_114">114</div> -<p>At last the maid, moved by love, which is ever -bold, led the way, and Glaucé following, they stood -within the cave. There they found the magician -busy on some wonderful work, for he was writing -strange characters on the ground, the spells by -which he bound the spirits of the earth to his -service. He was not one whit moved at their -coming, of which, indeed, he was aware beforehand, -for indeed by his art he knew the secret -thoughts of others. Nevertheless he made as -though he knew not their errand, saying: “Tell -me now on what business you are come?”</p> -<p>Then Glaucé answered: “Blame us not, kind -sir, that we have thus disturbed you in your -solitude, coming thus unbidden, but the need was -great.”</p> -<p>“Speak on,” said Merlin.</p> -<p>Then she began: “Three months have passed -since this maiden here began to sicken of some -strange disease. What it is, and whence it began, -I know not; only this I know, that unless you can -find some remedy she must shortly die.”</p> -<p>The magician smiled at her woman’s craft, -knowing well that she had in her heart that -which she would not tell. “Madam,” he said, -“I take it from what you say that this damsel -has more need of the physician’s art than of any -skill of mine. They who may find a remedy for -their trouble elsewhere, do ill to have recourse to -the magic art.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_115">115</div> -<p>The old dame was not a little disturbed by -these words, but yet was loath to show her true -purpose. “Sir,” she said, “the trouble has taken -too strong a hold on this maiden’s life that the -physician’s art could work a cure. I fear me much -that some bad spell has been cast upon her. Some -witch or evil spirit has done this thing; therefore -it is that we seek your help.”</p> -<p>When he heard these words Merlin could -no more contain himself, but laughed aloud. -“Glaucé,” he said, “what avails this pretence -by which you seek to hide your purpose? And -you, fair Britomart, why have you thus disguised -yourself in mean attire, as the sun hides himself -behind a cloud? You have come, by the ordering -of Fate, to the very place where you shall find the -help which you need.” The maiden, hearing her -name so called, blushed a rosy red; but the nurse, -not one whit dismayed, but rather taking heart at -Merlin’s words, said:</p> -<p>“Sir, if you know our troubles, and, indeed, -what is there that you do not know, have pity -upon us, and help us in our need.”</p> -<p>Merlin sat silent awhile, for many thoughts -were in his mind. At last he spoke: “Most -noble maid, who have learned to love in this -strange fashion, be not dismayed by this hard -beginning of your life. It was no chance look, O -Britomart, in the mirror of the king your father, -but the unchanging course of the purposes of -Heaven, that showed you this image. Believe -me, it is no ill-fortune that you love this noble -knight. Submit yourself, therefore, to the purposes -of God, and be content to do His will.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_116">116</div> -<p>Then said Glaucé: “Tell us, man of wisdom, -what means she shall use, what ways she shall -take, to find this man. Or has she no need of -toil, but may sit still while her fate is fashioned -for her?”</p> -<p>“The fates,” answered Merlin, “are firmly -fixed; not the less it becomes those whom they -concern to do their own endeavour, and to be -fellow-workers with God.” Then he told Britomart -the true name and lineage of Sir Artegall, how -that he was son to Gorloïs, King of Cornwall in -time past, and brother to Cador, then king of the -same land. Then he turned to Britomart and -opened to her the future, how she should be wife -to Sir Artegall, and how from them would come -a line of kings who should reign with great glory. -Many things that should come to pass in after days, -both good and evil, did Merlin unfold to her.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_117">117</div> -<h2 id="c17"><span class="h2line1">CHAPTER XVII</span> -<br /><span class="h2line2">HOW BRITOMART TOOK TO ARMS</span></h2> -<p>From Merlin’s cave these two, Britomart and -Glaucé, her nurse, went back to their own home. -There they consulted together many days how they -might best carry out their purpose of seeking Sir -Artegall. At last Glaucé said: “My daughter, I -have conceived in my heart a scheme, somewhat -bold, I must confess, yet such as may be accomplished -if you are both brave and prudent. And -above all things, it is in good accord with the conditions -of these present days. You must know that -the good King Uther has of late made war against -the pagan brothers, Octa and Oza, who are newly -come to this country from the lands which lie about -the Northern Sea, and has won a great victory -over them and their people, and that all Britain is -now in a great flame of war. My counsel therefore -is, seeing that armed men are everywhere, let -us make ourselves as armed men. Let our hands, -weak though they be by nature, learn to handle -the spear and the sword, nor shall we fail therein, -for there are no scholars so apt as they who have -need for their teacher. And, indeed, my daughter, -you are one who should easily learn such matters, -for you are both tall and strong, and need practice -only, which being had, you should be as truly -martial a maid as you could wish. Nor is such a -thing unknown in the race from which you come. -Such was the bold Boadicea, who reigned in old -time over the Iceni, for she made haughty Rome to -tremble before her, and others, as Gwendolen and -Emmilen. Hear also this thing which I saw with -my own eyes. On the battlefield at Menevia, where -King Uther last fought against the pagan hosts, -there was a Saxon virgin who thrice struck to the -earth the great Ulfin himself. Verily she had slain -him as he lay, but that Caradoc held her hand, and -Caradoc himself had much ado to escape from her -without hurt.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_118">118</div> -<p>“Tell me, I pray you, her name,” said Britomart.</p> -<p>“They call her Angela,” the nurse made answer, -“and she is as fair as she is strong. She is the -leader of a tribe who are more to be feared than -all other Saxons; they call themselves Angles.”</p> -<p>Much was the maiden moved by this tale, so -that she made her resolve, unknown to her father, -to take upon herself all the duties and adventures -which were fitting to a knight. And she said to -her nurse: “See, Glaucé, that you have all things -ready that are convenient to my new estate.” And -this Glaucé did with all readiness and care. Fortune -also helped in the matter; for about this time -a band of Britons, being abroad on a foray, took a -great spoil of Saxon goods, and among them goodly -armour decked with gold, and arms of proof which -belonged to the Saxon queen Angela. These -spoils King Ryence commanded to be hung up -in the chapel of his palace, that they might be -a memorial for all time of the great victory which -God had given to his arms. Into this same chapel -Glaucé led the maiden Britomart late in the night -when no one was near, and taking down the -armour, clad her in it, and she gave her the arms -also, chief among these being a wonderful spear -which King Bladud had made by magical arts -many years before. This virtue it had, that whosoever -might be struck by the point thereof, could -not stay in his saddle, but must be borne to the -ground. And when Glaucé had so furnished the -maiden with due equipment of war, then she took -for herself such arms and armour as befitted a -squire, and put them on. This done, they left the -place by secret ways, unseen of any. Thus did it -happen that Britomart came in guise of a knight -into the company of Sir Guyon and the Red-Cross -Knight.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_119">119</div> -<p>Not long after this they parted from each other, -for the Knight had an errand of his own, and -Britomart was bent on the finding of Sir Artegall. -Many miles did she ride, and through many lands -did she travel, till at last she came to the shore of -the sea. There she lighted from off her horse and -bade Glaucé unlace her helmet, and sat down upon -a rock to rest awhile and refresh herself with the -breeze that blew from off the waves. And as she -sat, she thought within herself: “Ah me, how like -is love to this restless sea! How shall my frail -bark escape where there are so many dangers, and -no certain guide?” So she spake to herself, sighing -the while; weep she would not, for tears, she -thought, did not become a knight. But Glaucé -comforted her, calling to her mind what Merlin -had prophesied about the things to come. Nor -were these words in vain; but there soon befell a -thing which roused her more than many words. -She spied a knight in shining armour riding towards -her in all haste, with his spear in rest as -one that had some hostile purpose. Quickly she -mounted her horse, and bade Glaucé lace her -helmet, and addressed herself without delay to -battle. Now, by the time she had put her shield in -place and made ready her spear, the knight was -close at hand.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_120">120</div> -<p>“Sir Knight,” said he, “know you that you -travel on this road against my strict commands? -I suffer not any to pass by this way. Others -who have so trespassed have come by their death. -Therefore I counsel you to go back while there is -yet time.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_121">121</div> -<p>She made answer in few words: “Let them -fly who have need for flight. You may frighten -children with your words. As for passing by this -way, I am prepared to do it, even without your -leave. Verily, I will pass or die.” Scarcely had she -spoken when the stranger knight rode at her with -his spear in rest. He smote her full on the breast, -and she bowed her head, so fierce was the stroke, -till it well-nigh touched the crupper of her saddle. -But her counter-stroke was deadlier by far. The -spear-point passed through his shield and through -his cuirass, and, glancing thence, pierced his left -side. The power of the stroke bore him from the -saddle, and laid him bleeding on the ground, where -he lay wallowing in his blood. So fell the knight, -Sir Marinell, upon the shore which he called his -own. And Britomart rode on; and as she went she -saw pearls and precious stones of every kind, and -ingots of gold half buried in the sand. Much she -wondered to see such riches, but she would not -descend for a single hour. What were jewels or -precious stones or gold to her, that they should -hinder her in her quest?</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_122">122</div> -<p>The story of Sir Marinell, briefly told, is this. -His mother was a daughter of Nereus, God of the -Sea, and his father a mortal man. He was reared -up in arms, and became a great and famous knight. -And he had for his possession this same shore; a -place in which Nature of her own will had set -much riches, pearls and precious stones and the -like, and to which, by the ordering of Nereus, great -store of the treasure which the sea swallows up -through shipwreck was brought, for his daughter -made request of the same for her son. This coast, -then, he most jealously guarded against all comers. -And being, as has been said, valiant and strong and -expert in arms, and also because he knew the place -and was able to take a new-comer unawares, he -seemed to be invincible. Many knights, seeking -to pass along the coast, for, indeed, the fame of its -treasures was spread abroad, were slain, and yet -more, being vanquished in battle, for life’s sake, -submitted themselves to him, and became vassals -and servants to him. One hundred knights, men -of name all of them, were so bound to his service. -In the end, Sir Marinell, what with the multitude -of his riches, and the pride of having so many -knights of renown at his beck and call, became not -a little puffed up, and his mother, knowing that the -wise man had said of old, “Pride goeth before a -fall,” would fain know how he might be kept from -mischief. So she went to a certain god of the sea, -Proteus by name, who had the gift of foretelling -things to come. And Proteus said to her: “My -daughter, keep this thy son from all womankind, -for from a woman he shall have a deadly hurt.” -And the mother, taking these words to be spoken -of woman’s love, set her son’s mind against all such -things, and did most carefully keep him from all -company of women. And he, to do her pleasure, -obeyed her in this matter, yet could not so escape -his fate. And this fate was all the harder, because -this knight was beloved of a fair and virtuous -maiden, Florimell by name, whom he might have -wedded much to his joy and profit. Of this same -Florimell more shall be told hereafter.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_123">123</div> -<p>Britomart, after having thus vanquished Sir -Marinell, still went on her quest, and came at night -to the castle of a certain Malbecco. To this same -place there had also come, earlier by the space of -an hour or so, two other knights, Sir Paridell and -Sir Satyrane. It was this same Satyrane that -helped the Lady Una in her wanderings when she -was parted by evil chance from the Red-Cross -Knight. To them Sir Paridell’s squire had said: -“My lords, you will not find entertainment here. -The master of this castle, Malbecco by name, is a -mere churl, and hates all company, and this for two -reasons: the first of these reasons is that his mind -is wholly set on riches, and he hates all doings -by which they may seem to be wasted; and the -second is that he, being old and crabbed, is -wedded to a very fair young wife, whom he would -fain keep from the sight of all eyes but his own. -Verily he keeps her as in prison.”</p> -<p>When Sir Paridell heard the squire’s story, he -said: “Why do we suffer this old dotard to behave -himself in this churlish fashion? ’Twere better to -kill the villain and spoil his home.”</p> -<p>“Nay,” said Sir Satyrane, who was a loyal and -true knight, and would fain bear himself honestly -to all men; “we will first gently entreat this man -to give us entertainment. And if he will not listen -to gentle words, then will we threaten him; for -some who heed not fair words will take account of -foul. And if we accomplish nothing either by -entreaties or by threats, then we will make our -way into his dwelling by force, and deal with him -as he deserves.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_124">124</div> -<p>“So be it,” said Sir Paridell, and coming to the -gate he knocked. “Sir Porter,” he said, “two -knights seek shelter and entertainment.”</p> -<p>Now the porter was Malbecco himself, for it -was his custom to play the porter’s part. He -answered: “All in this house, my friend, are now -gone to their beds, and the keys have been taken -to the master of the house, and he also is in his -bed, nor is there anyone so bold that would venture -to wake him from his sleep. I pray you, therefore, -to be patient and to seek entertainment elsewhere.”</p> -<p>The two knights were not a little wroth at this -fellow’s churlishness, but knew not what they should -do, for he took no heed, neither of blandishments -nor of threats. And while they parleyed with him, -the sky was overcast, and there came so bitter a -blast of wind and so fierce a storm of rain and hail -that they were constrained to depart and seek -shelter in a little hut that was near at hand, being -a sty for pigs. While they were faring as best -they could in this place, there came another knight -to the castle gate. He also sought for entertainment -and was denied, and he also, under compulsion -from the storm, sought shelter in the hut. -And when, the place being indeed already filled, he -was not suffered to enter, he fell into a great rage.</p> -<p>“Nay,” said he, “this will I not suffer. Either -I will lodge with you, or you shall be dislodged. -Choose then whether of these two things ye will -have.” The two knights scarce knew how they -should answer him. They liked not to deny him -lodging, and they liked not to yield to his boasting. -But of the two Paridell was the less disposed to -take the matter patiently.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_125">125</div> -<p>“Who is this fellow,” said he, “who talks to me -as though he were rating a dog in a kennel? Of -a truth, if he is a dog of spirit, he would rather die -than lie like a coward in a corner.” So saying, he -issued forth, and came to blows with the stranger. -And doubtless mischief had been done but that the -good Satyrane made peace between them. This -done, they agreed together to punish the lord of -the castle for his churlishness. So they went back -to the gate, and Paridell cried aloud: “Hark, Sir -Porter, whoever you are, if you open not this gate, -then we will burn this place and all that is therein -with fire.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_126">126</div> -<p>When Malbecco heard this, perceiving that they -were in earnest, he ran with all speed and called to -them from the castle walls. “Bear with me, fair -sirs,” he cried, “and pardon me, seeing that I am -so ill-served. These loutish knaves of mine know -not their duty, and fail to attend as they should -upon strangers.” When they heard this, the -knights consented to let the matter be, though -they believed not a word of what the man had -said. So they entered the castle. Being within -the walls, they rid themselves of their armour, for -they were fain to dry their garments at the fire. -And lo! when the last come of the three took off -his helmet, the hair, which was of golden hue, broke -loose from its tie and fell down to her feet, like the -sunbeams that fall from a cloud; and when she -doffed her coat of mail and let down the pleated -frock she had tucked up for convenience’ sake in -riding, then it was plain to see that she was a -woman, and indeed the very fairest of women; for -in sooth this last come of the three knights was -Britomart.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_127">127</div> -<h2 id="c18"><span class="h2line1">CHAPTER XVIII</span> -<br /><span class="h2line2">SIR SCUDAMORE AND AMORET</span></h2> -<p>Britomart, riding forth on the day following -from Malbecco’s Castle, came to a fountain -whereby a knight was lying stretched upon the -ground. His cuirass and his helmet and his spear -lay near him, and his shield, on which was the -emblem of love, as a boy with wings, was thrown -carelessly on the ground. He lay with his face -upon the ground, and it seemed as if he were -asleep, so that Britomart of her courtesy held -back, lest perchance she should wake him. But -as she stood, she heard him groan, and after break -forth into bitter complaining: “O God,” he cried, -“who rulest in bliss among Thy saints, why -sufferest Thou such cruel deeds to be done? -Hast Thou no care for the cause of the innocent? -Is Thy justice asleep? What doth it profit a man -to do righteously if righteousness find no reward? -Never was there on earth a creature more gracious -than my Amoret; and lo! for seven months the -tyrant Busirane holds her in prison, and all, forsooth, -because she will not deny her Scudamore. -And I, this same Scudamore, am safe and sound, -and yet can help her not at all!” Then he burst -forth into a storm of sobs. So shaken and disturbed -was he with the torment of his grief, that -Britomart feared that he might even die. So, -stooping down, she touched him lightly on the -shoulder. Whereat he, starting up, looked to see -what had happened; and finding that it was but -a stranger knight, he threw himself again upon -the ground.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_128">128</div> -<p>Then said Britomart: “Sir Knight, whose -sorrow seems to overpass your patience, I would -counsel you to submit your will to the providence -of God. Remember, if you will, that virtue and -faith are mightier than the very worst of sorrows. -Surely he who cannot bear the burden of this -world’s distresses must not think to live, for life -is a distressful thing. And now, tell me what this -villain of whom you speak has done. Maybe this -hand of mine may help you to win relief and -redress.”</p> -<p>Then said the knight: “Ah me! it is idle to -complain of what may not be cured. I fear me -much that there is no remedy for this trouble. -How can we deliver my Amoret from the dungeon -in which this tyrant holds her, and all because she -will not accept his love, nor be false to me? For, -indeed, he has fortified the place with such magic -charms that no power of man can overcome -them.”</p> -<p>“Nevertheless,” said Britomart, “we will make -our endeavour.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_129">129</div> -<p>“Why should you die for me?” said the knight. -“It is enough that I should perish, who deserve it -well.”</p> -<p>“Nay,” cried Britomart, “life is not lost if the -fame that dies not be bought with it.”</p> -<p>So at last she persuaded him to rise from the -ground. His armour she helped him to put on, -and his horse, which had strayed away, she brought -back to him. Then they set off for the magician’s -castle, which was but a bow-shot away. But when -they were arrived, lo! there was no gate, no, nor -porter, nor watchman, but in the porch there was a -flaming fire and a great smoke of sulphur; so fierce -was the fire and so thick the smoke that they were -compelled to fall back.</p> -<p>“To run into danger without thought, Sir -Knight,” said Britomart, “is becoming to a beast, -not to a man. Let us think, therefore, how we -may most prudently deal with this enemy.”</p> -<p>“Alas!” answered Sir Scudamore, for this was -the knight’s name, “here you see the doleful straits -in which I stand. This is the trouble of which I -complained. By no cleverness or strength or valor -may these flames be quenched, for no man can undo -the enchantments by which they have been kindled. -Leave me to my complaints. Fair Amoret must -dwell as before in this evil prison, and Scudamore -must die of sorrow.”</p> -<p>“By heaven!” cried Britomart, “it were a -shameful thing to give up some noble purpose for fear -of danger, without some venture made. Let us make -a trial at the least, and see what shall come to pass.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_130">130</div> -<p>And as she spoke the bold maiden threw her -broad shield before her face, and pointing her sword -straight in front of her, threw herself upon the fire; -and behold the flames straightway parted asunder, -leaving a space in the middle through which she -passed, as a flash of lightning passes through the -clouds. And when Sir Scudamore saw how she -had traversed the fire safe and untouched, he -essayed to follow her. But whether it was that -there was a certain jealousy in his heart, or some -less pure desire, or some lack of faith, to him the -flames yielded not one jot. His pride and fierceness -availed him nothing; he was constrained to -return most piteously burnt. Greatly was he -troubled at this defeat, so that he threw himself -on the ground and groaned aloud in the bitterness -of his heart.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_131">131</div> -<p>Britomart meanwhile had made her way into -the palace of the Enchanter. The first chamber -was a wondrous place, all its walls being covered -with tapestries picturing the triumphs of love. -Many a strange tale of the gods might there be -seen, and with the gods was shown a great multitude -of men and women, both of high degree and -low, kings and queens and knights and ladies, and -peasants and women who worked with their hands, -for love has no respect of person, and there are -none but feel his power. And round about the -tapestries was woven a border of broken bows and -shivered arrows, and through them flowed as it -were a river of blood. At the end of the chamber -was an altar, and on the altar was set the image -of a boy. Blindfolded was he, and in his hand he -held a deadly bow with an arrow set. And on his -shoulders he carried a quiver, and some of the -shots were tipped with gold and some with lead, -and under his foot was a dragon which had been -smitten through with a dart. Under his feet was -written this inscription: “The Conqueror of the -Gods.” All this the maid beheld, and also she saw -that over every door in the chamber, and there -were many such doors, the words were written: -“Be Bold!” But over one door at the very end -of the chamber were these words to be seen, “Be -not Over-Bold.” Much she marvelled to see no -living creature, for the whole place was silent and -empty. But the day being now far spent, she lay -down to sleep, but was careful to keep her arms -close at hand should need arise.</p> -<p>She slept not untroubled. First there was the -sound of a great trumpet; but whether it were -blown for victory or for warning she knew not. -And after the trumpet there was a great storm of -wind, with thunder and lightning, and after the -lightning an earthquake, and after the earthquake -a great stench and smoke of sulphur, yet was not -Britomart one whit dismayed. Then, as she wondered -what these things might mean, a great whirlwind -blew throughout the house, and the door over -which the words “Be not Over-Bold” were written, -flew open of its own accord. And out of it there -issued a marvellous array.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_132">132</div> -<p>First came Fancy, in likeness of a lovely boy, -and after him Desire, and then Doubt, ever looking -about him with restless eyes, and Danger, and Fear, -who ever kept his eye on Danger, and Hope in -the semblance of a happy maiden, and Suspicion, -and Grief and Fury, and many more, which it were -long to name one by one. Thrice did they march -round the chamber, and then returned to that within -from which they had come forth. And when the -last had passed through, the door shut as it had -opened at the first, of its own accord. And when -the maid would have passed through it, she found -it locked fast against her and beyond all her strength -to open. Then, finding that she could do nothing -by force, she had recourse to craft, purposing not to -depart from the chamber till the next night should -come, and with the night the same procession of -figures should come forth. And so it fell out, and -when the door opened next of its own accord, then -Britomart went boldly in. Not one single figure -did she see of all that wondrous company. There -was no living creature in the chamber, save one -lady of woeful aspect, whose hands were bound -fast together, while round her waist was a chain -which bound her to a pillar. And before her sat -the Enchanter, making strange characters, which -were among the devices of his art. In blood he -drew them, and the blood seemed to be drawn -from the woeful lady’s heart by an arrow which -was fastened in her side. When the Enchanter -saw the maid he cast his magic book in haste to -the ground, and drawing from his vest a murderous -knife, made as though he would have thrust -it into the lady’s side. But the maid caught his -hand and mastered him. Not so completely did -she quell him but that with a sudden wrench he -turned the dagger upon her and struck it into -her chest. It was but a shallow wound, but it -moved her wrath, and she, drawing forth her -sword, dealt him a mighty blow, so that he fell -half dead upon the ground. But as she made -ready to smite him again, the woeful lady cried: -“Slay him not, for if he die then am I here fast -bound for ever; for only he that has bound can -loosen.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_133">133</div> -<p>Full wroth was Britomart to spare so foul a -wretch. Nevertheless, for the lady’s sake, she -held her hand, and said: “O wicked man, death, -or that which is worse than death, if such there -be, is the due reward of your crimes. Nevertheless -you may live if you will restore this lady to -her first estate.” To this the wretch, so reprieved -beyond all hope, gave a willing consent, and taking -up his book began to reverse his evil charms. -Many a dreadful thing did he read which the lady -heard with trembling, seeing that they had brought -her to this evil plight. And all the while Britomart -stood, with her sword drawn over his head, -ready to smite him if he should fail of his promise. -And now all the house began to shake around -them, and the doors to rattle. Yet was not the -maid dismayed, but watched the villain as he undid -the charm. And now the chain was broken -from off the lady’s hands, and that which did bind -her to the pillar was severed, and the pillar itself -fell into ruins, and the steel by which her life-blood -was drained away came forth from the -wound, no one drawing it, and the wound itself -was closed and the lady herself restored to her -first estate.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_134">134</div> -<p>When she found herself thus whole again, she -poured out her heart in thanks to the maid, -throwing herself upon the ground before her. -“Gentle lady,” said Britomart, “it is reward -enough to have done you this service. And now -forget your trouble, and take comfort to yourself -and comfort also the true knight who has suffered -so much for your sake.” Right glad was Amoret -to hear such kindly words of the man whom she -loved. Then did Britomart take the chain with -which Amoret had been bound and bind the -Enchanter with it. And this was a fit beginning -of the punishment which was to fall upon him. -This done, they turned to depart, and as they -passed through the Enchanter’s abode, lo! all the -grace and glory had departed from it; all the fair -picturings were defaced, and when they came to -the fiery porch, the flames were vanished, and -the place was like to a torch that is half burned.</p> -<p>But as nothing in the world is without trouble, -so to their great trouble they found no one awaiting -them; neither did Amoret see Sir Scudamore, -nor Britomart her squire.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_135">135</div> -<h2 id="c19"><span class="h2line1">CHAPTER XIX</span> -<br /><span class="h2line2">OF SIR PARIDELL AND OTHERS</span></h2> -<p>It was, in truth, a great deliverance that Britomart -had worked for the Lady Amoret. -Nevertheless this same lady was somewhat in -doubt how she should bear herself to her deliverer. -For, on the one hand, she was well aware that all -her love and homage was due to Sir Scudamore, -nor was there aught in her heart that hindered her -from rendering it. It should be told indeed that -she was not only betrothed to this same Scudamore, -but verily wedded, only it had come to pass on the -very wedding-day, when the guests were somewhat -overtaken with wine, that the enchanter Busyrane -had entered the palace, and, under cover of a jest, -had carried her away into captivity. So now she -said to herself:</p> -<p>“This is a very noble knight, and it irks me to -show him any discourtesy; yet, on the other hand, -I fear me much lest I should seem in any wise -disloyal to my own dear lord,” for she knew not -that Britomart was a maid. And Britomart, on -her part, desiring that the secret should not be -known, bore herself with a certain freedom. Nothing -unseemly did she say or do; but none had guessed -her to be what she was.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_136">136</div> -<p>As they journeyed together they came to a -castle, where a great company of knights and ladies -had assembled to hold a tournament. Now it was -a custom of tournament that every knight entering -the lists bore the colours of some lady, and averred -that she was the fairest of all ladies, and that he -would prove it with spear and sword. Thus it -came to pass that when the knights were gathered -together, and the master of the ceremony asked of -each his lady’s name, a certain young and lusty -knight cried out, “My lady is the fair Amoret, -and that I will avow with spear and sword.”</p> -<p>When Britomart heard these words she was not -a little wroth; nevertheless she dissembled her anger, -and said only, “I am loath to make strife; but this -young man must needs make good his words!” -So they jousted together, and the knight was easily -overthrown, being thus made to suffer for coveting -that which was not his. But Britomart, seeing that -he was a brave man, and being herself as courteous -as she was strong, cast about how she could save -his honour. She said, therefore, to the master of -the ceremony: “Let me have this knight for my -champion.” And as she spoke she doffed her -helmet, and her golden hair, which had been -cunningly coiled up within, fell down to her very -feet. All that stood by, both ladies and knights, -were not a little amazed.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_137">137</div> -<p>Some said, “This is wrought by magic!” -others, “This is Bellona’s self that has come among -mortal men.” As for the young knight, he worshipped -her as though she were divine, and the fair -Amoret, all her doubts being removed, was knit to -her in the closest bonds of affection and tenderness.</p> -<p>The next morning they departed together from -the castle, the one ever cherishing in her heart -the thought of Sir Artegall and the other of Sir -Scudamore. After a while they were aware of two -knights riding towards them, having each a lady at -his side; ladies, indeed, they were not, save in -outward appearance, for one was the false Duessa, -the other was called Até, which name by interpretation -is Strife, than whom there is no more baleful -creature under the sun, and she has her dwelling -hard by the gates of hell. Many ways are there -by which a man may go into that place, but none -by which he may come forth. And the walls on -every side are hung with the rent robes and broken -sceptres of kings, shivered spears and shields torn -in twain, spoils of Babylon and of Rome, relics of -great empires that have been and are no more. -Até herself was hideous to behold, if one could see -her as she was in truth. But now she was fair to -look at, for she had put on, as can all evil things, -the semblance of beauty.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_138">138</div> -<p>The knight who rode by her side was a certain -Blandamour, gallant and strong, and most expert in -arms, but of a fickle and inconstant heart; and he -that was companion to the false Duessa was Sir -Paridell. When Sir Blandamour saw from afar -Britomart and Amoret, he said to Sir Paridell: -“See you, my friend, that knight with a lady by his -side? There is a fair adventure for you!” But Sir -Paridell, for now they were near enough to discern -the fashion of Britomart’s arms, perceived that this -knight bore the like scutcheon to one by whom he -had of late been worsted in battle; nor was he minded -to tempt his fate again.</p> -<p>“I know that knight full well, Sir Blandamour,” -he said; “he proved his skill on me, and I count it -folly when he who has escaped a danger challenges -it again.”</p> -<p>“Then I,” replied Sir Blandamour, “will try -my fortune; take you, meanwhile, this dame in -charge.” And he laid his spear in rest and charged. -Britomart, on her part, made ready to receive him, -and gave him an uncouth welcome. Scarce had -they met than he found himself lying helpless on -the ground. Meanwhile his conquering adversary -rode on, not deigning so much as to say a single -word.</p> -<p>When his companions saw in what an evil plight -he was, they hastened to his help, and put him on -his steed, for mount himself he could not, and held -him up as he rode. Ill-content he was that he had -ventured so much and won so little.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_139">139</div> -<p>After that they had journeyed awhile, they saw -two knights coming towards them across the plain. -When Sir Blandamour perceived them, he grieved -more than ever for his late mishap, for he saw that -one of them was his old enemy Sir Scudamore, -knowing him to be such by the device that he wore, -to wit, the god of love with his wings spread out on -this side and on that. “Here,” he said to himself, -“is evil fortune! Yonder is my enemy, and I am -so bruised with this late encounter that I cannot do -battle with him.” Then he said to Sir Paridell: -“My friend, will you, of your affection, do somewhat -for me, even as I have done for you? My -hurts keep me back from battle, but I have just -cause of enmity against yonder knight. Will you, -therefore, maintain this my cause against him?”</p> -<p>Sir Paridell answered: “Trouble not yourself. -There is a proverb that the left hand rubs the right. -As you have fought for me, so will I for you.” -Forthwith he laid his spear in rest, and charged, -swift as an arrow from a bow. Nor was Sir Scudamore -slow to make himself ready. So they met in -fierce encounter, and with so great a shock, that -both were driven from their saddles, and they lay -stretched upon the ground. Sir Scudamore was -soon on his feet again, and said to the other: -“Laggard, why lie you so long?” But Sir -Paridell lay tumbled in a heap, without sense or -speech, all unheeding of his adversary’s reproach. -Then his companion ran to him, and unlaced his -helmet, and loosened his coat of mail, and so -brought him back to feeling; but not a word did he -speak. Then said Sir Blandamour:</p> -<p>“False knight, you have overcome by craft a -better man than yourself. It is well for you that -I am not in such good case to-day that I can -avenge him.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_140">140</div> -<p>To this Sir Scudamore made no answer, though -there was great anger in his heart. Then the -false Duessa, not seeing how her ends would be -served by a quarrel between these two, would have -made peace between them. But, on the other -hand, Até made up a fresh contention, for she -turned Sir Scudamore against Amoret, slandering -that true lady with false tales of how she had given -her love to a stranger knight, who, indeed, was -none other than Britomart. Nor was she content -with this, but she made a quarrel also between -Paridell and Blandamour. And the contention -between these two grew so hot that they were -ready to do battle with each other. What had -been the end thereof none can say, but by good -luck there came that way a certain squire who was -well known to both, and not a little beloved by -them. No easy thing was it for him to get hearing -from the two, so full of fury were they. Yet, at -the last, he persuaded them to stay their hands. -This done, he said: “Brave knights, you ought to -be at peace and not at variance. There are those -that seek your harm, and you would do well to ally -yourselves against them.” Thus he persuaded -them to swear friendship again. So being reconciled, -they pursued their journey. After a while -they saw two knights and two ladies with them, -and they sent on their squire to inquire who these -might be. And when the squire came back to his -company he said: “These are two famous knights, -brave Cambell and stout Triamond; and the ladies -are Cambina, who is wife to Cambell, and Canacé, -who is wedded to Triamond. But would it please -you, gentle sirs, to hear their story, for I know it -well, and it is worth the hearing?”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_141">141</div> -<p>Sir Blandamour answered, “Speak on.” So the -squire told this tale that follows.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_142">142</div> -<h2 id="c20"><span class="h2line1">CHAPTER XX</span> -<br /><span class="h2line2">THE STORY OF CANACÉ AND THE THREE BROTHERS</span></h2> -<p>There was a great lady in Fairyland, Agapé -by name, who had three sons, born all of -them at one birth; and the names of the three -were Priamond, Diamond, and Triamond. Also -she had a daughter, Cambina by name. Now the -Lady Agapé greatly desired to know how long -her sons should live, for they, having a mortal -for their father, must needs die some day, whereas -she, being of fairy race, was immortal. Having, -therefore, this thought in her mind, she made her -way to the place where the three Fates sit by the -distaff spinning the lines of Life. One sister -draws out the thread, and another turns the -spindle, and yet another, sitting by with the -shears in her hand, cuts the thread when the due -time is come. Deep in the hidden places of the -earth was the dwelling of the three, and the way -thereto was dark and hard to find; but Agapé had -in her heart all the wisdom of Fairyland, nor did -she fail to accomplish her purpose. When she had -come to the place she sat awhile, and watched the -sisters at their work. At last, having seen all that -they did, she declared why she had come: “I have -three sons,” she said, “mortal men, though I myself -am immortal; and I greatly desire to know -how long they will live.” One of the sisters, she -that held the shears, was very angry when she -heard these words: “You have done ill,” she said, -“in coming here on this errand. These things are -not for anyone, mortal or immortal, to know. -You deserve to be smitten with the Curse of -Jupiter—you and your children with you.”</p> -<div class="img" id="pic5"> -<img src="images/p_05-p155.jpg" alt="" width="989" height="710" /> -<p class="caption"><span class="sc">Agapé approaching the Dwelling of the Fates.</span></p> -</div> -<div class="pb" id="Page_143">143</div> -<p>Agapé was greatly frightened at these words. -Still she held to her purpose, and with many -prayers and entreaties prevailed upon her that -held the spindle, for she was less hard of heart -than the sister who held the shears, to show her -the threads of the three youths. When she saw -them she cried, “I pray you draw them out longer -and of a stouter thread.”</p> -<p>“Nay,” said the sister, “think you, O foolish -one, that the purposes of the Fates may be changed -as are the purposes of men? It is not so; what -they decree stands fast for ever; the gods may -not move it by one hair’s-breadth, no, nor the -ruler of the gods himself.”</p> -<p>Then answered Agapé: “If this be so, if you -cannot add one jot to the thread of any man’s life, -still there is a boon which you can give me. I see -the thread of my eldest son, and it is, I perceive, -the shortest of the three. Grant that when it is -cut with the shears, it may be added to the thread -of the second, and that in like manner when the -thread of the second is cut, it may be joined to the -third. So shall he have a treble portion, and yet -the whole shall not have been increased.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_144">144</div> -<p>The sisters said, “This shall be so.” Thereupon -the Lady Agapé departed to her own home. -She told her sons nothing of this journey which -she had taken, or of the things which she had seen -and heard, or of the boon which had been granted -to her in the matter of their lives. But she said -to them, not at that time only, but after, whenever -she could find occasion: “O my sons, be careful -and walk in safe ways; but, above all things, love -one another, whatever may befall.” And this they -did all their lives. Never was there any strife between -them, but only great friendship and concord, -of which the most signal proof is now to be told.</p> -<p>There was a fair lady in those parts, Canacé by -name, who was wiser than all the women of her -day. She knew all the powers of nature, and -could see beforehand the things that should come -to pass, and knew the speech of beasts and birds. -And as she was wise above all others, so also did -she excel in goodness. To these things she added -also a singular beauty, so that many lords and -knights of the land came to woo her. To these -she bare herself rightly courteously, but favoured -none, no, not so much as by a word or a look. -But it came to pass, as is the way in such matters, -that the more she held herself aloof, the more -eagerly did these lords and knights urge their suit -upon her. And not a few quarrels came about on -her account, one suitor meeting another in battle. -Now this Canacé had a brother, Cambell by -name, as brave and stout a knight as ever lived. -And he, seeing that great mischief might arise -out of these quarrels concerning his sister, caused -all her wooers to come together, and made this -proclamation among them:</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_145">145</div> -<p>“Ye Lords and Knights that seek my sister -Canacé in marriage, choose now from among -yourselves the three whom you judge to be the -boldest and most skilful in battle among you, and -let them meet me in combat, man by man, and it -shall be that whosoever of the three shall prevail -over me shall have my sister to wife.”</p> -<p>Now this Cambell was, as has been already said, -a brave knight and a stout; yet for all his strength -and courage he had scarcely dared to stand up in this -fashion against so many. For, indeed, it might -well come to pass, such are the chances of battle, -that one or other might prevail over him, not being -the better man, but by reason of some accident. -But there was that which encouraged him to dare -so much, to wit, a magic ring which his sister had -given him. It was a ring of many virtues, but the -chief of them all was this, that if he who wore it -should be wounded, this ring straightway staunched -the bleeding.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_146">146</div> -<p>Now this matter of the magic ring and its -marvellous virtues was known to all, and the -suitors of the Lady Canacé were, for the most -part, terrified by it, so that they would not venture -on the battle. “Fair she is without doubt,” they -said, “but it would be a fool’s part to venture -life even for her.” Nevertheless there were three -among them who were not of this way of thinking, -and these three were the brothers Priamond, -Diamond, and Triamond. They all loved the -Princess, and yet, so brotherly were they in heart -and mind, that there was not a thought of anger -or jealousy among them. “Let her choose,” said -they, “between us, and we will be content with -her choice. Or, if the judgment be left to the -sword, then let him be preferred who shall overcome -this her brother Cambell.”</p> -<p>So the three addressed themselves to the -battle in the order of their age. First came -Priamond, the eldest, a stout knight to hold his -place, but he was not so strong to strike as are -some. He loved to fight on foot, and his arms -were the spear and the battle-axe. Next to him -was Diamond; he was one to deal mighty blows, -but he was not so good in holding his ground. -Whether he were on horseback or on foot he -cared not, so that he had his battle-axe in hand, -for with this he loved to fight. Last of all came -Triamond. There was no man better than he, -whether to stand or to strike; the fight on horseback -pleased him best, and his arms were spear -and shield.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_147">147</div> -<p>On a set day the lists were prepared. Barriers -were made to keep off the press of the people. At -one end sat six judges, who should see that all -things were done decently and in order, and that -neither this warrior nor that should take undue advantage; -and at the other was set the fair Canacé -on a stage, that she might see the battle and herself -be seen. The first that came into the lists was -Sir Cambell. Noble was his mien and assured his -look, as of one that knew certainly that he should -prevail. After him advanced the three brothers, -bravely attired and shining in arms, each with his -banner borne before him. Thrice did they bow -themselves before the fair Canacé, and then a -blast of the trumpet gave the signal for battle.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_148">148</div> -<p>First of the three to meet Sir Cambell came -Priamond; well skilled in arms were the two, and -for long they fought without advantage to one or -the other. Mighty the blows that they dealt, but -both had watchful eyes and ready skill to turn -the deadliest stroke aside. The first gain fell to -Sir Priamond, for his spear, whether by good -fortune or by skill it were hard to say, passed by -his adversary’s shield and pierced the shoulder -where a joint of the armour gave it access. Deep -was the wound, and though no blood flowed therefrom—such -was the virtue of the magic ring—it -stung the warrior to the quick with keenest pain. -There are whose spirit is quelled with pain; but -Sir Cambell was not of these. The smart did -but rouse his courage to the utmost, and put new -strength into his arm. Straightway he drave his -spear close underneath Sir Priamond’s shield and -smote him on the thigh. The coat of mail did -not stay it, but that it made a grisly wound, and -the stout knight tottered with the blow, even as -an old oak, withered and sapless, rocks with every -blast of the wind. Nor did Cambell fail to use -the occasion. He smote him yet again upon the -side, making another deadly wound, and though -the spear brake with the blow, he did not abate -his onset, but drave the shaft through the visor -of Sir Priamond’s helmet, and laid him low upon -the ground. So fell the first of the three brothers; -yet did not his soul depart, but by virtue of the gift -of the Fates it passed into the bodies of the two -that yet remained, making them stronger and more -eager for the fray.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_149">149</div> -<p>Nevertheless, when Sir Diamond addressed -himself to the battle, the lists having been cleared -afresh, and the trumpet sounded a second time, -he fared no better than his brother. For a while -the two stood face to face, giving and receiving -equal blows, but without advantage either to the one -or to the other. But then a great gust of wrath -swept through Sir Diamond’s soul, driving away -all thought but of how he might most speedily -avenge his brother. And, indeed, the very soul -of the brother stirred within him. So he lifted -high his mighty battle-axe, swinging it over his -head, and bringing it down on his adversary with -all the force that was in his body. And, surely, -had the blow fallen as it was meant, there had -been an end of strife. No magic ring had availed -to stay so dreadful an onset. It had crushed out -Sir Cambell’s life, whether with or without the -shedding of blood. But fortune helped him in -his need, for judging where the axe would fall, he -swerved aside, so that the stroke missed the mark, -and the striker’s right foot slid from under him. -So we may see a hawk strike at a heron with all -his might; so strong is the blow, that it would -seem as if nothing could turn it aside; but the -heron, a wary bird, sees it come, and lightly avoids -it, so that the hawk is well-nigh brought to the -ground ere the force of his onset is sped. So -fared it with Sir Diamond; not only so, but while -he reached forward with his left arm to recover -himself, he left his side unguarded by the shield. -Which thing Sir Cambell did not fail to perceive, -for swinging his axe, he smote him between the -topmost rings of the coat of mail and the lowest -rings of the helmet, which spot is ever dangerous -to the warrior, how well soever he be armed. -There did Sir Cambell smite Sir Diamond, with -an arm so sure and deadly that he shore his head -from his body.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_150">150</div> -<p>And now ensued the fiercest fight of all, yea, -and also the strangest. Well might a man wonder -to see how Sir Cambell stood up, neither faint nor -weary, for all that he had been changing blows for -the space of an hour and more. Yet did he seem -even fresher and brighter than at his first taking of -arms, just as some great serpent wakes from the -long sleep of winter, when the warm breath of -spring has touched him, and throws off the ragged -skin of his old estate, and raises himself in the sunshine -with all the glory of his youth renewed. Such -freshness and vigour did the magic ring work in -calling out all the strength that he had, for all the -magic in the world had not availed to help a coward -or a sluggard. Against him stood a worthy foe, -with the might of three stout champions in his heart -and in his limbs. Once and again, yea, many times, -did it seem that this or that warrior had prevailed. -Now was Cambell beaten to his knee, till all the -company thought he must needs lose the day, and -now was Triamond stretched upon the ground, like -to one who has received a mortal wound. And -once, indeed, the two lay together at full length, as -though they had been dead. The judges rose from -their place, and the marshals of the lists came forward -as to carry the two corpses to the appointed -place, and the fair Canacé cried out in her despair, -for it seemed as if both brother and lover had been -taken from her at once. But lo! in a moment the -two were standing on their feet again, and addressing -themselves anew to the battle. What had been -the end, whether the virtue of the magic ring had -overcome the triple might of him in whom dwelt -the spirits of three brave men, who can say? For -now there was heard such a clamour, such a confusion -of voices, such a shouting of men and wailing -of women and shrill crying of children, that all -turned their faces to look, and the two champions -by common consent stayed their hands till they -could see what strange things had happened. And, -indeed, it was a marvellous sight that they saw. -There came speeding along the ground, fast as a -thunder-cloud that rides the sky, a chariot richly -adorned with gold and purple in the Persian fashion. -Two lions from the forest drew it, mighty beasts, -such as could not be surpassed for strength and -fierceness in any land, but now they had forgotten -their savageness to obey the pleasure of their driver. -And this was a lady of wonderful beauty, and not -less wise than fair, for she had been taught all the -arts of wholesome magic by the fairy, her mother. -In her right hand she carried a wand with two -serpents twined about it, and in her left a cup filled -to the brim with nepenthe, the wondrous drink of -which he that tastes straightway forgets all grief -and anger and care.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_151">151</div> -<p>This was the Lady Cambina, daughter of Agapé, -and sister to Sir Triamond, and she, knowing by -her art in what deadly peril her dear brother stood, -came to his help. All the people made a way for -her to pass, so that she could approach the lists. -These first she struck with her wand, and they fell -at the stroke. Then she said to the two champions, -“Cease now your strife and be at peace.” And -when they would not hear, but made as if to renew -the battle, she cast herself upon her knees and -besought them with many prayers and tears to -cease from their anger; and when they still hardened -their hearts, she smote them lightly with her wand. -So soon as they felt the touch, the swords dropped -from their hands. Then, as they stood astonished, -not knowing what had befallen them, she gave the -cup first to one and then to the other; and they, -as being consumed by mighty thirst, drank each a -mighty draught. Straightway the magic liquor -turned all their strife to love; they clasped hands, -and plighted troth to each other, and swore that -they would be friends for ever. And such indeed -they were to the end of their days; ay, and Cambell -took to wife Cambina, and Triamond wedded -the fair Canacé.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_153">153</div> -<h2 id="c21"><span class="h2line1">CHAPTER XXI</span> -<br /><span class="h2line2">THE STORY OF FLORIMELL</span></h2> -<p>It has been related before how Sir Guyon and -Prince Arthur parted company with Britomart -with the purpose of relieving a fair lady in distress. -Now the name of this same lady was Florimell. -She was courted by many knights of high degree, -but her love was given to Sir Marinell, the same -that was overthrown by Britomart in the passage -by the sea; but he, on his part, had no thought for -her, being mindful of his mother’s counsel that he -should hold himself aloof from all womankind. So -fast did Florimell fly, for she was in grievous fear, -that the two knights who followed with intent to -give her help, could by no means overtake her. -After a while the strength of the white palfrey on -which she rode wholly gave out, and she, alighting, -made her way on foot, a thing which she had never -done in all her life before, so delicately bred was -she. But need teaches many lessons, this being -chief among them, that Fortune holds the lots of all -in equal scales, and has no respect of persons. So -travelling, she came to a hillside, from which, looking -down, she espied a valley thickly covered with -trees, and through the tree-tops a thin vapour of -smoke issuing forth. “Here,” she said to herself, -“is a dwelling of man, where haply I may find -shelter and rest.” So she bent her steps thither, -and after a while reached the place, being now sorely -spent with trouble and weariness. A dwelling there -was, but of the humblest kind, a little cottage, built -with reeds and wattled with sods of grass. In this -there dwelt a witch woman. Most sparely did she -live, careless of all common things, for her mind -was wholly given to her art, for the better and more -secure practice of which she lived far from all -neighbours.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_154">154</div> -<p>When Florimell came in the witch was sitting -on the ground, and was so busied with one of her -enchantments that she was taken wholly unawares. -At the first she was overcome with fear, for she -would not that any should surprise her while she -was busy with her art. Then, her fear changing to -anger, as, indeed, it is commonly wont to do, she -cried in a loud voice: “Stranger, what mischief has -brought you hither? Here, of a truth, you will -find no welcome.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_155">155</div> -<p>Florimell answered: “Mother, be not angry with -a simple maid, who has been brought to your -dwelling by hard chance, and asks only for leave to -rest awhile.” And as she spoke the tears came -trickling down her cheeks, and she heaved a sigh, -so softly and sweetly, that there could be no -creature so hard and savage that would not have -pitied her. Even the witch, for all that her soul -was given to mischief, was much moved at the -sight, and sought to comfort her in such rude -fashion as she knew, for even in her the sight of -such beauty and virtue moved the hidden sense -of womanhood. So, wiping the tears from the -damsel’s eyes, she bade her rest awhile. This she -was nothing loath to do, and sat down upon the -dusty floor, as a bird spent with tempest cowers -upon the ground. After a while she began to set -aright the garments that she wore, and to put in -order her golden hair. All this the witch woman -saw with wonder that still waxed greater and -greater. “Is this a mortal maid,” she said to -herself, “or one of Diana’s train?”</p> -<p>This same witch woman had a son, very dear -to her, and in a sort the comfort of her age, but a -lazy, evil-minded loon, always idling away his time, -and loath to follow any honest trade. He was -abroad when Florimell came to the cottage, and -when he returned, he was not a little amazed to -see so fair a creature sitting by his mother’s hearth. -But the maiden bore herself so meekly, fitting -herself to the low condition of the place, that she -soon ceased to be strange to mother and son. This -was a thing to be desired; yet it had in it this discomfort, -that the witch’s son began to love her. -He would bring gifts for her, such as birds which -he taught to speak her name, and squirrels which, -he said, were as fellow-slaves with himself, and -flowers to make garlands for her head. All these -she graciously received. Nevertheless she was not -a little troubled in her heart, for she could not but -perceive the love which the young man bore her. -Therefore she determined in herself to depart.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_156">156</div> -<p>By this time her palfrey was well rested from its -weariness, for, indeed, the young man, the son of -the witch, had tended it with all care. Early, -therefore, one morning she put its strappings on -the beast, and so departed.</p> -<p>Great was the anger of the witch and her son -when they knew that Florimell was gone. As for -the disappointed lover, his fury passed all bounds. -He beat upon his breast and scratched his face, -and tore his flesh with his teeth. When his mother -saw him in so evil a plight, she did all that she -could to comfort him. Tears and prayers she used, -and charms and herbs of might; but all were of no -avail. When she saw this, fearing lest, in his -despair, he should bring himself to a violent end, -she said within herself: “I must bring the creature -back.” So she called out of the cave a hideous -beast that served her. It was a creature likest to -a hyena, for its back and sides were covered with -spots. But never was seen anything that could be -matched with it, so fierce of aspect was it, and so -swift. The witch said to him: “Follow this -woman, and do not leave following till you -overtake.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_157">157</div> -<p>So the monster followed Florimell, and, as she -rode leisurely, soon overtook her. When she saw -him, she set spurs to her palfrey, and he, so long as -he was fresh and full of breath, kept her out of the -creature’s reach. But when his breath failed him, -then the monster drew near. This Florimell perceiving, -leapt from her saddle and fled away on her -feet. Now it chanced that she was close to the -seashore, and she, being minded to be drowned, -rather than be overtaken by so foul a beast, ran to -the very edge of the waves. There, by good hap, -she saw a little shallop lying, in which the fisherman, -an old man and poor, lay asleep, the while his -nets were drying. Into this she leapt, and pushing -off the shallop with an oar, was safe awhile. The -monster would not venture on the sea, for it was -not to his liking, and so set out to return to his -mistress the witch, to tell her how his quest had -failed. But first he turned upon the palfrey and -rent it.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_158">158</div> -<p>Scarcely had the beast done this, when there -came that way a gallant knight, Sir Satyrane by -name, the same that had befriended the Lady Una -in her distress. He, seeing the palfrey lie dead -upon the ground, knew it for that on which the -Lady Florimell had been wont to ride; also he -found the golden girdle which she had been wont -to wear, for it had fallen from her in the haste of -her flight. These things greatly troubled him, and -when, looking round, he also saw the monstrous -beast which had pursued her, standing by, his fear -was changed to anger, and he flew upon it and -dealt it many blows with all his might. Many -wounds did he give it, causing much blood to pour -out of its carcase; but the beast he subdued not, -with such spells had the witch woman fortified it -against all assault. At the last he threw away his -sword, for in truth the steel seemed to avail nothing -against the creature’s hide, and caught it in his -arms as if he would have crushed the life out of it; -also he took the girdle of Florimell and bound the -beast with it. Never in truth had it known such -constraint, for in a moment all its rage was quelled, -and it followed him meek as a lamb which the -shepherd has rescued from the lion’s mouth. And -this, without doubt, it had continued to do, but for -this chance, that Sir Satyrane was called away upon -another adventure. He spied a giantess riding on -a dappled grey steed, holding before her a squire -fast bound with chains of wire, and a knight pursuing -her. Therefore he made haste to put himself -in her way. She would have passed him by, but -he would not suffer it, running at her with his spear. -Thereupon she was constrained to deal with him, -and would have smitten him with a great mace of -iron which she carried in her hand, and with which -she had already slain not a few. But ere she could -deal the blow, his spear came full upon her shield. -So great was the shock, that her horse staggered to -and fro; but she was not moved one whit in her -place, nor was the shield broken. Rather the shaft -of the spear was shivered on it, for all it was big -and strong. Nor did she delay to strike him with -the mace of iron. Full on his helmet’s crest she -smote him, and that so sturdily that he bowed his -head upon his breast and reeled to and fro like to -a drunken man. Which the giantess perceiving, -caught him in her arms, and put him on the saddle -before her, for the squire she had already cast to -the ground. Then truly had Sir Satyrane been in -an evil plight, but for the knight that was pursuing. -He, indeed, seeing what had chanced, made the -greater haste to overtake her, but she, not desiring -another battle, or because she especially feared the -other knight, threw Sir Satyrane to the ground, and -thus he was delivered. But meanwhile the witch’s -monster had departed.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_160">160</div> -<h2 id="c22"><span class="h2line1">CHAPTER XXII</span> -<br /><span class="h2line2">OF THE FALSE FLORIMELL</span></h2> -<p>The monster sped on as fast as it could to the -dwelling of its mistress, the witch woman. -When she saw it, she perceived how it was bound -with Florimell’s girdle. At this she rejoiced greatly, -and showed the thing to her son, thinking that he -also would rejoice. “See,” said she, “this thankless -creature has not escaped. Behold her girdle.”</p> -<p>But he was otherwise minded. “Surely,” he -cried, “she is dead, this fairest of all maidens!” -And it seemed as if he would have torn the very -heart out of his breast. So mad was he with -anger and grief, that he would have slain his -mother where she stood. Only she hid herself -in a secret place where she was wont to call up -the evil spirits which served her. And now she -summoned them to her help, telling them what had -come to pass. “Counsel me,” she said, “for my -son is distraught with anger and grief and love, and -either he will lay violent hands on himself, or he -will slay me, though I have done my very best to -serve and help him.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_161">161</div> -<p>So the spirits took counsel together in the matter, -and by their advice, her own wicked wit helping, -she contrived a marvellous thing. She set herself -to make another Florimell, a false maid, like in all -things to the true, so far as concerned shape and -outward semblance. The substance of which she -made her was snow, which she gathered in a secret -glade of the Thracian hills, the spirits of the mountains -having revealed to her the place. This snow -she tempered with fine mercury and virgin wax, -which had never been touched with fire. These -she mingled with vermilion, so making a rosy red -in the cheeks. And for eyes she set two lamps, -whose fire was marvellously attempered to the -likeness of life; and hair she made of golden wire, -more marvellously light than ever was hair of -woman; and for life to make this dead mass move -and breathe—for dead it was for all its beauty—she -put one of the spirits which served her. A -wicked spirit was this, none more wicked or crafty, -or with a more cunning art to take the semblance of -goodness. There was no need to teach him how to -bear himself. This he knew already; there was no -subtlety or craft in all the wit of woman with which -he was not acquainted. Such was the false Florimell.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_162">162</div> -<p>This creature she arrayed in some of the garments -which the true Florimell had left behind -her, and so brought her to her son, where he lay -groaning on the earth. “See, my son,” she said, -“the maid herself has come back to us.” And -when he saw her, he leapt from the ground, and -would have caught her in his arms. But she held -back, for the spirit within her knew well how -women bear themselves in such a case, neither -seeming too fond, yet giving such encouragement -as might the more confirm him in his passion. -Such was the charge which the witch woman laid -upon him.</p> -<p>One day, as the son was walking with the false -Florimell in the wood, there chanced to come by a -certain knight with a squire attending him. And -now it must be said who this fellow was, for, indeed, -he was no true knight. It has been already told -how that Sir Guyon, when he was helping a -traveller in distress, had his horse and his spear -also stolen from him. The thing was done by a -vain fellow, Bragadocchio by name, who, seeing the -horse and spear ready to his hand, thought that by -taking them he might make himself into a veritable -knight. Little had he of his own but a ready -tongue; but this same tongue was no small help -with the more foolish sort. He then, mounting the -steed, and taking the spear in hand, rode on, and so -vain was he, and full of self-conceit, that he hoped -to be courteously received for what he seemed to -be. And in this notion his first adventure confirmed -him. As he rode along he saw a man -sitting idly on a bank; and he said to himself: -“Here is one whom I will make captive to my -spear.” With that he smote his steed upon the -flank, and set his spear in rest and charged. The -man, when he saw him coming on, fell flat on the -ground for fear, and cried for mercy, holding up -his hands. At this Bragadocchio took a wonderful -conceit of his own strength and courage: “Who -are you, caitiff?” he cried. “You are not worthy -to breathe the air along with honest men. Prepare -for death, or yield yourself to be my prisoner for -ever. ’Tis no small favour that I give you time to -answer!”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_163">163</div> -<p>The man cried: “Hold your death-dealing -hand, my lord, I am your thrall!”</p> -<p>“So be it,” said the sham knight, “your fate -has baulked my will, and given you life when I had -purposed death. So be it; life I give you. Fall -on the ground, and kiss my stirrup. So pay your -homage.”</p> -<p>Then the wretch threw himself on the ground, -and kissed the stirrup, and declared himself to be -Bragadocchio’s man. For a while he held his -master in great respect, but when he found out how -hollow was his show of courage, then he grew -bolder, and practised upon him for his own ends. -Trompart was his name, which, being interpreted, -means deceiver; a worthy squire he was for such -a knight.</p> -<p>They had not long companied together when -they chanced to meet Archimage, who was looking -out for some men-at-arms to help him in his evil -designs. He, coming close to Trompart, said to -him under his breath: “Who is this mighty -warrior, who has a spear only and no sword?”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_164">164</div> -<p>Said Trompart: “He is indeed a mighty -warrior; as for his sword, he has made a vow -that he will use none till he shall be avenged for -a certain wrong that has been done to him. Meanwhile -his spear is enough: he can do to death with -that as many as he will.” Then Archimage, louting -low before him, told a false tale about the Red-Cross -Knight and Sir Guyon, which when Bragadocchio -had heard, he cried with a loud voice: “Old man, -tell me where these false knights are hiding themselves. -I will soon punish them for all their misdeeds.”</p> -<p>“That will I do without delay,” answered -Archimage, “and will help you also when you -come to deal with them. Meanwhile I would give -you this counsel, that you give no odds to your -adversaries, but provide yourself with a sword -before you do battle with them, for, indeed, they -are sturdy fighters.”</p> -<p>“Old man,” said Bragadocchio, “you dote. -Doubtless your wits have failed you by reason of -age, or you would not judge of a man by his coat -of mail or his sword. A man, be he indeed a man, -can quell a host without sword or shield. Little do -you know what this right hand of mine has achieved; -but they who have seen it can tell if they will.”</p> -<p>Not a little abashed was Archimage at these -high words; well he knew in his heart that whoso -should do battle with the Red-Cross Knight or Sir -Guyon would need all his arms, and yet he feared -to offend this knight. Then Bragadocchio said -further: “Once upon a time I slew seven knights -with one sword. And I took a great oath, having -done this, never again to use a sword in battle, -unless it should be the sword of the very noblest -knight in all the world.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_165">165</div> -<p>“Wait you for that,” said Archimage, “then -you shall have it by to-morrow at this time. ’Tis -the sword of Prince Arthur, and it flames like a -burning fire. Lo! I go to fetch it.” And as he -spoke he vanished into air.</p> -<p>“What is this?” thought the two to themselves -in sore dismay, for they liked little to have aught -to do with such a sword. And they fled from the -place as fast as they could to hide themselves in -a wood which was near at hand. This they had -scarcely reached when they heard the clear ringing -of a horn. Thereupon Bragadocchio leapt from -his horse and hid his coward head in a thicket. As -for Trompart, he was not easily moved, but abode -in his place to see what should happen. Soon -there came into the glade where they were a very -fair lady dressed in huntress fashion. She had a -fair white tunic with an edge of gold and gilded -buskins, and a boar-spear in her hand, and on her -shoulder a bow and a quiver filled with steel-headed -arrows. And all about them flowed loosely down -her golden hair. When she spied Trompart she -said: “Saw you a hind with an arrow in her right -haunch? If so, tell me which way she went, that -I may follow up the chase.” But while she was -speaking, she saw the bush stir in which Bragadocchio -lay hid, and thinking it was some beast of -prey, would have shot an arrow into it.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_166">166</div> -<p>But Trompart cried: “Forbear, I pray you, -whether you be nymph or mortal maid. That is -no mark for your arrows. My master, a famous -knight, rests awhile under the shade.” So she -stayed her hand, and Bragadocchio came forth -from his hiding-place on his hands and knees, and -after stood up, making as if he had been newly -roused from sleep. After this they talked awhile, -and when the lady had passed on, Bragadocchio -said to Trompart: “I had from my birth this grace, -not to fear any mortal thing. But of the heavenly -powers and of the fiends in hell I do stand, I do -honestly confess, in great dread. And when I heard -that horn, I took it for some signal from the sky, -and hid myself for fear. And now let us depart -hence.”</p> -<p>Such was Bragadocchio, the false knight who -came upon the son of the witch woman as he was -walking in the wood with the false Florimell. -When he saw the two, and perceived that the lady -was very fair to look upon, and that he who was -with her was no man of war, he rode up, with his -spear in rest, crying, “Clown, how is this? This -lady is my love. Gainsay it if you dare!”</p> -<p>The churl dare not answer him a word, but -yielded the damsel to him; and he, mounting her -upon Trompart’s horse, rode on, not a little proud -of the valiant deed which he had done. Nor had -he ridden long when there came in view a stranger -knight, who cried: “Ho there! Yield the damsel -to me; I have a better right than you!”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_167">167</div> -<p>Sorely dismayed was Bragadocchio at such a -challenge, but dissembled his fear, saying, “Think -you, Sir Knight, to steal away with words what -I have won by many blows? Yet, if you will have -trial of my strength or prove your own, let it be so.”</p> -<p>“Turn your horse,” said the stranger, “or I -will strike you dead!”</p> -<p>“So be it,” answered Bragadocchio, “if nothing -else will content you. Let us then retire our horses -for a furlong either way, and tilt together as is the -custom.” So they turned their horses, and retired -each a furlong’s length; but Bragadocchio came not -again, but fled away as fast as his horse could -carry him.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_168">168</div> -<h2 id="c23"><span class="h2line1">CHAPTER XXIII</span> -<br /><span class="h2line2">SIR SATYRANE’S TOURNAMENT</span></h2> -<p>By sundry adventures, which there is no need to -set forth in their place, the girdle of Florimell -came into the possession of Sir Satyrane, who -forthwith resolved to hold in honour of it a great -tournament. In this same tournament there should -be, so he proclaimed, two contests; first, a contest -of knights, who should joust with each other, so -showing who excelled in strength and courage; -second, a contest of fair ladies, she who should -most fittingly wear the said girdle being adjudged -the most excellent.</p> -<p>The beginning of the tournament was that Sir -Satyrane came forth from his pavilion, holding in -his hands an ark of gold. This ark he opened -with much solemnity, and drew forth from it the -girdle. A wondrously fair thing it was, curiously -embossed with pearls and precious stones; they -were all costly things, but the workmanship was -costlier yet. This he held up for the general -view; and all eyes were drawn to it, for indeed -it was a thing greatly to be admired; nor was there -one in all that company but said in his heart: -“Happy the knight who shall win so fair a prize! -Happy the dame who shall be deemed to wear it -most fittingly.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_169">169</div> -<p>The girdle having been thus displayed in the -sight of all the concourse, the knights disposed -themselves for the jousting. And first of all Sir -Satyrane came forth holding in his hand the great -spear which he was wont to wield; no man in those -days bore one greater, or, indeed, so great. He -was the challenger, and it became him thus to be -first in the field. Behind him were ranged the -knights of Fairyland, owning allegiance, all of -them, to the great Queen Gloriana. On the other -side was ranged a great company of knights, who -had come from all parts. First of these rode up -a pagan knight, Sir Bruncheval, surnamed the -Bold (he jousted with Sir Satyrane), whose -mastery of arms had been tried in many battles. -Fierce was their onset, so fierce that neither could -resist the other; but both were tumbled on the -plain, holding, indeed, their spears in their hands, -but not able to move them so much as a hair’s-breadth. -When Sir Ferramont saw his leader in -this plight, he set spurs to his horse, and rode -forth. Against him came out Sir Blandamour, -putting all his strength into his stroke; but his -strength availed him nothing, for he was tumbled -on the ground, he and his horse together. And -when Sir Paridell rode forth to his rescue, he fared -no better. The next in turn to contend was Bragadocchio, -but the thing was not to his liking, and he -stood still in doubt what he should do, or rather in -fear. Thereupon Sir Triamond, vexed indeed that -a brave-seeming knight should bear himself so -basely, but rejoicing in the occasion, rode forth -with his spear in rest, and charged on Sir Ferramont -with all his might. So sure was the stroke, -that both man and horse were laid prostrate on the -ground, nor could they lift themselves again for a -space. And when Sir Devon rode forth from the -Fairyland array he fared no better; nor did Sir -Douglas, nor Sir Palimord, when in turn they -made trial of him. Either they were stretched on -the plain or went sorely wounded.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_170">170</div> -<p>By this time Sir Satyrane had woke out of the -swoon in which he had lain so long. Looking -round, he was sorely dismayed to see the havoc -which Sir Triamond had wrought among the -knights of Queen Gloriana. “Truly,” he said to -himself, “I had rather been dead than laid here -helpless while such deeds were done.” Then, -gathering strength, he laid hold of his spear, -which lay close beside him; his horse also, by -good fortune, was at hand. Mounting, therefore, -he rode forth again to where the brave Triamond -was carrying all before him. Not a man could -stand up against him, so heavy were his strokes, -so deadly was his hand. But now there came a -stay to his achievements; Sir Satyrane smote him -on the side with his great spear, and the point -made a most grievous wound. So grievous was it, -that though he was not forthwith overthrown, he -was fain to withdraw himself from the field. Then -the challengers ranged over the lists, claiming to -be conquerors, and, indeed, no one was ready to -take them in hand. And now the night fell, and -the trumpets sounded a retreat. That day, therefore, -Sir Satyrane was adjudged to have won the -prize.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_171">171</div> -<p>On the second day of the tournament Sir -Satyrane rode forth, with Queen Gloriana’s -knights following him, to challenge all comers. -And on the other side also were many famous -warriors, eager all of them to win the prize for -himself. But Sir Triamond was not one of these; -his wound was so grievous that it hindered him -from making a trial of arms. So he was constrained -to stand aside, but it grieved him sorely. -This his close friend Sir Cambell perceiving, said -to himself: “I cannot cure his hurt, nor undo the -thing which has been done; but this I can do; -I can win honour for him.” Therefore he took -Sir Triamond’s arms, none knowing, neither Sir -Triamond himself, nor anyone else, for he said to -himself: “If I fare ill in this matter, the blame will -not fall on my friend.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_172">172</div> -<p>He went therefore to fight, no one doubting -that he was the veritable Triamond. When he -was come, he found Sir Satyrane, full of joy and -triumph, for no one was able to stand up against -him. At him, therefore, he charged, with his spear -in rest; nor did Sir Satyrane, on his part, draw -back from the encounter. With so great a shock -did they meet that both were driven from their -saddles to the ground. Rising, therefore, they -drew both of them their swords, and fought therewith -such a fight as had scarce been seen before -in that land. And now Sir Satyrane’s horse, for, -by this time, they had both again mounted their -steeds, chanced to stumble, so that his rider was -well-nigh cast to the ground. This Sir Cambell -perceiving, was not slow to seize the occasion, but -dealt him so sore a blow on the crest of his helmet -that he fell to the ground. Then Sir Cambell leapt -from his steed, and would have spoiled him of his -arms. But this, which, indeed, is a custom of the -battlefield rather than of the tourney, the knights -who were of Sir Satyrane’s party would not suffer. -Hastening to their comrade’s help, they closed his -adversary in so close a ring that though he laid -about him most bravely, yet could he not deliver -himself—for what could one against so many? So -he was taken prisoner and led away.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_173">173</div> -<p>It chanced somehow that the news of what had -befallen Sir Cambell came to Sir Triamond where -he lay in his bed. In a moment of time he leapt -therefrom, wholly forgetting his wound, and sought -for his armour. He sought, but he found it not, -for indeed, Cambell was wearing it at the very -time. But the arms and armour of Sir Cambell -he found. These he donned without delay, and -issued forth to take such chance as might befall -him. There he saw his friend and companion -Cambell as he was led away captive in the midst -of a great press of knights, and the sight moved -him to great wrath. He thrust himself into the -thickest of the press, and smote down all that were -in his way till he came to where Cambell was led -a prisoner between two knights. Fiercely did he -assail these two, and they, for their own lives’ sake, -were constrained to let him go. Then he, seizing -a sword from one of them, laid about him with all -his might, for both his own wrong and the wounding -of his friend stirred a great wrath in him. So -these two made great havoc over all the field, till -the trumpet sounded the end of the battle for that -day. By common consent the prize of the day was -adjudged to these two, Cambell and Triamond, but -to which of the two was doubtful, for they strove -together, each advancing the other’s cause, so that -the matter was postponed.</p> -<p>On the third and last day of the tournament -many valiant deeds were done, not without great -hurt and damage to many that contended in the -field. There might be seen that day full many -a shivered shield, and swords strewn upon the -ground, horses also running loose without their -riders, and squires helping their lords who were -in evil plight. But, for the most part, the knights -of the Queen fared the better, and among the -knights there was not one that fought with better -success than the brave Sir Satyrane. Now and -again his fortune failed him; but ever it returned -again, and he was the best stay and support of his -side.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_174">174</div> -<p>But when it was now past noon, there came -forth from the other side a strange knight whom -no one knew. Strange he was and strange was his -disguise, for all his armour was covered with moss -from the wood, and his horse had trappings of oak -leaves, and on his shield, which had ragged edges, -was written this motto: <i>Salvagesse sans Finesse</i>. -He, as soon as he had come upon the field, -charged the first knight that was in his way. -This was the stout Sir Sanglier, a valiant man, -well approved in many battles; but now he was -laid low at the very first encounter. And after -him Sir Brianor came to a worse fate, for he was -killed outright. Seven knights, one after the other, -he overthrew; and when his spear was broken, -then he worked no less damage with his sword. -Shields and helmets he broke through, and wasted -all the array of knights, as a lion wastes a flock of -sheep. So Satyrane and his party were turned to -flight, for, indeed, no man could stand before him. -And when they would find out his name, no one -knew it, so that they were constrained to call him -the Savage Knight. But he was in truth Sir -Artegall.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_175">175</div> -<p>It was said by a wise man of old time that no -man should be accounted happy before the end, -because it cannot be known what change of fortune -may befall him. And so it proved that day with -Sir Artegall. For when the sun was laid low in -the heavens, but before the trumpet had sounded, -there came forth from the ranks of the Queen’s -knights a stranger. First he charged at Sir -Artegall and tumbled him backwards over his -horse’s tail, with so heavy a fall that he had small -desire to rise again. This when Sir Cambell saw -he charged with all his might; and he, too, could -be seen lying on the plain. In like manner fared -Sir Triamond when he would have avenged his -friend’s disgrace. Nor did Sir Blandamour succeed -where these had failed. Many another famous -knight was overthrown that day, yet without loss -of honour, for they had to yield to the enchanted -spear of Britomart. So when the trumpet sounded -on the third day of Sir Satyrane’s great tournament, -the honour rested with the knights of Queen -Gloriana.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_176">176</div> -<h2 id="c24"><span class="h2line1">CHAPTER XXIV</span> -<br /><span class="h2line2">OF FLORIMELL’S GIRDLE</span></h2> -<p>The tournament being ended, the next thing in -order to be done was to adjudge the prizes. -For the first day the prize was given to Sir Satyrane, -as has been told before, because, having -been first at the beginning, he was also first at -the end. For the second day Sir Triamond was -held to have excelled all others: Cambell, indeed, -was victor, but then Triamond had saved -him from imprisonment, and he who saves the -victor is, without controversy, first of all. For -the third day the prize was adjudged to Britomart, -or, as men called her, the Knight of the -Ebony Spear, for who she was in truth no one -knew. Nor could this judgment be disputed, for, -whereas the Savage Knight had overthrown all -others, so was he overthrown by her. And this -third prize was held to be the most honourable -of all, and the knight to whom it was given the -first of all. And because by good right beauty -and valour go together, there must needs be a -trial of the dames, who should be reckoned the -fairest, with the girdle of Florimell for prize.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_177">177</div> -<p>First came Sir Cambell, leading his wife, the -fair Cambina, clad in a veil which covered her -from head to foot, which being taken away, such -was her beauty that all hearts were won. Nevertheless, -when Sir Triamond, coming next, showed -his wife Canacé, they were not less moved by -the sight. And some greatly admired the false -Duessa, when Sir Paridell led her forth before -the company, for some hearts are moved by one -thing and some by another. Nor did the Lady -Lucida, whose champion was Sir Ferramont, want -for worshippers; nor, indeed, did any one of the -hundred dames assembled in that place, lack some -to champion her. Yet, doubtless, the great number -of the votes had been given to Amoret, when -Britomart led her forth, but that she also was -surpassed in the common judgment by Sir Blandamour’s -Florimell, not the true Florimell, it must -be understood, but the false which the witch woman -had made. For in comparison of her all others -seemed but base, even as the stars seem to grow -dull when the moon is shining at her full. “This,” -said they all, “is no mortal creature, but an angel -from heaven.”</p> -<p>Even so when some cunning smith overlays -base metal with covering of gold, he lays upon it -so fair a gloss that it seems to surpass the true -gold itself. So they who had looked upon the -true Florimell thought to themselves, “The dame -is fairer than ever before!” For ever it is that -false things do seem to excel the true, so weak -and false are the judgments of men.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_178">178</div> -<p>Then, by common consent, the girdle was adjudged -to her as being the fairest of all; but lo! -when they thought to bind it round her waist, -they could not prevail to do it. So soon as they -fastened it, it seemed to loose itself and fall away, -as if there was some secret hindrance and want -of fitness. And so it fared with many other dames -when they assayed the same; when they would -have girt the thing about their waists, they could -not. However fast it seemed to be, it was soon -seen to be loose. Then a certain squire, who -thought scorn of women, cried aloud: “Surely -this is a sorrowful sight, that out of so many fair -dames not one can fit to herself the girdle of -beauty! Shame on the man who thought of this -fatal device! May he never find fair lady to love -him!” At which saying all the knights laughed -loud, and all the ladies frowned.</p> -<p>And now the gentle Amoret, coming last of -all that company, took the girdle in her hands, -and put it around her waist, and lo! it fitted to -a marvel. But the false Florimell snatched it -away as if in anger, and would have clasped it -round her own waist. She clasped it, but it fitted -as ill as before. Nevertheless it was adjudged to -her as her right, for such the common voice had -been; and she herself was assigned to the Knight -of the Ebony Spear, that is, to Britomart. But -she was ill-content: “Nay, nay,” she said, all -thinking that it was the Knight of the Ebony -Spear that spoke, “I am no light of love; I am -still steadfast to my own Amoret.” Then she was -adjudged to the Savage Knight, but he had already -departed in great wrath; and then to Triamond, -but he was faithful to his Canacé; and after -Triamond to Sir Satyrane. He indeed was well -content. But then arose great strife, and, like -enough, there had been a drawing of swords, but -for this strange happening. Sir Satyrane stood -forth and said:</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_179">179</div> -<p>“Surely we have had enough of battles; why -should we fight again the old quarrels? Let the -fair lady choose for herself. Surely the love that -comes of her will is the sweetest of all!” To this -they all consented. And so the choice was given -to the false Florimell. Long looked she upon -each gallant knight, for it seemed as if she would -willingly have pleased them all; but at the last she -turned to Bragadocchio, for he also stood among -the rest, and said:</p> -<p>“This is the man I choose!” Great was the -wrath of all the company of knights, for they knew -not how fitting it was that the false beauty should -choose the valour that was false.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_180">180</div> -<h2 id="c25"><span class="h2line1">CHAPTER XXV</span> -<br /><span class="h2line2">OF BRITOMART AND ARTEGALL</span></h2> -<p>Britomart grew not a little weary of these -strivings of knights and dames. Therefore she -departed, taking with her the Lady Amoret, for she -was still bent on finding the Knight of the Mirror. -An unlucky maid she was, in truth, thus seeking -one who had been her adversary, to whom she had -been so near, though she knew it not. Great was -her grief, and great also her toil, for neither grief -nor toil did she spare, thinking that could she find -him, there would be both an end of her own toil -and a solace for her grief. The gentle Amoret -also, who was her companion, had a sorrow of her -own, for she sought for her Scudamore; but he, -unhappy man, had his heart full of hatred and -revenge. For that evil hag, whose name was Até -or Strife, had poisoned it with suspicion. The -very one who had best served him, he hated most, -even Britomart. Neither could Glaucé, for she -went with him, serving him as a squire, abate his -rage, for all that she could say.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_181">181</div> -<p>And now, as though the evil counsels of Strife -had not wrought trouble enough for him, he must -needs put another burden on his soul. As they -journeyed on, the night came upon them unawares, -very heavy with cloud and rain. They, seeking -some place where they might find shelter, perceived -upon a steep hillside what seemed to be a poor man’s -cottage. And underneath there ran a little stream, -but the water was muddy and thick, and had an -evil smell. As they came near they heard the -sound of hammers, and judged that it must be a -blacksmith’s forge. Entering in, they found the -goodman of the place busy with his work. He was -of a mean and wretched aspect, spent, it would -seem, with weariness. His eyes were hollow, and -his cheeks fallen in, like to one who had been many -months in a prison cell; his face was begrimed -with smoke and his beard ragged, as if neither -comb nor shears had ever passed upon it. Rude -were his garments, and hanging in rags, and his -hands were blistered with burning, with nails long -left unpared. Care was his name, and his trade -was the working of wedges of iron. To what -purpose they could serve, neither he nor anyone -knew. Such are the idle doubts and fears which -Care drives into the hearts of men. Nor was it he -alone that was busy with this toil; six stout workers -stood about the forge, all with huge hammers in -their hands, which they plied in order. Much did -Sir Scudamore wonder to see their work; but when -he had watched it awhile, he asked them of its -purpose, saying, “What make you?” But they -answered not a word, nor did they hold their hands -for a moment; the bellows blew like to a cold -blast from the north, and the din of the hammers -ceased not.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_182">182</div> -<p>When the knight saw that no one answered, he -laid himself down upon the floor, seeking to rest -his weary limbs; Glaucé did the like; and sore was -her need of rest, for she was old and feeble, and -they had journeyed that day a long and weary way. -She slept indeed, but to Sir Scudamore there came -no sleeping. Now he would lie on this side, now -on that; now he lay in one place, now in another. -Anon he would rise from his place, and then lie -down again. But every change was to no purpose, -and every place seemed full of pain. Also the dogs -howled and barked all the night long, and the cocks -crowed, and the owls hooted; and if by chance -slumber came down upon his eyes, then one of the -workers smote his headpiece with a hammer, for -they indeed rested not all the night. As morning -drew near, he fell into a sleep, so utterly wearied was -he, but sleep was worse than waking, for it brought -evil thoughts of those whom he was most bound to -love and trust.</p> -<p>The next day Sir Scudamore and Glaucé, -serving him as his squire, started betimes from the -house of Care, for his was the dwelling where they -had spent the night. After a while they espied a -knight sitting beside a wood, while his horse grazed -in the field hard by. The man mounted, so soon as -he saw them, and rode forward, as did also Sir -Scudamore. But when the two were near enough -that each could discern what arms the other wore, -the Knight of the Wood lowered his spear and turned -his horse aside, saying, “Gentle Scudamore, pardon -me, I pray you, that I had unknowingly almost -trespassed against you!”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_183">183</div> -<p>“I blame you not,” answered Sir Scudamore; -“such happenings may well be to knights who seek -for adventures. But, sir, as you call me by my -name, may I be bold enough to ask you yours?”</p> -<p>The other made answer: “I pray you pardon -me if I withhold my name for a time; the time -serves not that I should make it known. May it -please you to call me the <i>Savage Knight</i>, for thus -I am commonly known.”</p> -<p>Sir Scudamore said: “This place seems to suit -well the arms which you are pleased to wear. But -tell me, have you any special purpose to serve that -you abide in this place?”</p> -<p>“Sir,” replied the other, “be it known to you -that a stranger knight did me but the other day a -great shame and dishonour, and I wait till I can -take vengeance on him.”</p> -<p>“Tell me,” answered Sir Scudamore, “who it -is that wronged you.”</p> -<p>“His name,” said the Savage Knight, “is unknown, -yet he himself is known to many, especially -by the ebony spear which he carries. It was but the -other day that with this spear he overthrew all that -met him in the tourney, and reft from me the honour -of the day; not only so, for of these things a knight -may not complain, but he took from me the fairest -lady that ever was, and withholds her still.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_184">184</div> -<p>Then Sir Scudamore knew that he spoke of -Britomart, who, as he thought, had taken from him -his love. All his heart was full of rage, and he -cried out: “Now, by my head, this is not the first -time of this knight’s playing an unknightly part, -for I know him by this same spear which he bears. -From me also did he carry away my love. If you -purpose to take vengeance on him, I will give you -all the help that I can.” So these two agreed to -join together in wreaking their wrath on the Knight -of the Ebony Spear, that is to say, on Britomart.</p> -<p>While they were communing together on this -matter, they saw in the distance a knight riding -slowly towards them, somewhat strangely attired, -and bearing strange arms, whom approaching they -perceived to be the very one of whom they were -speaking.</p> -<p>Then said Sir Scudamore: “I beseech you, Sir -Savage Knight, that as I was first wronged, so I -may first take vengeance. And if I fail, then the -lot comes to you.”</p> -<div class="img" id="pic6"> -<img src="images/p_06-p199.jpg" alt="" width="717" height="993" /> -<p class="caption"><span class="sc">Sir Scudamore overthrown by Britomart.</span></p> -</div> -<div class="pb" id="Page_185">185</div> -<p>To this the other gave his assent. Thereupon -Sir Scudamore charged at her with all his might -and at his horse’s top speed, which she perceiving, -made herself ready, and gave him so rough a -welcome that she smote to the ground both horse -and man; and this so strongly, that neither had any -mind to rise therefrom. This Sir Artegall perceiving, -felt in himself a yet greater anger than -before, and laying his lance in rest, charged also -with all his strength. But he also was laid upon -the ground, for there was nothing that could withstand -the enchanted spear. Nevertheless he fared -better than his fellow, in that he rose lightly from -the ground, and drawing his sword, leapt fiercely at -his adversary. So sore were his strokes, that though -she was on horseback, she was constrained to give -place before him. As they turned this way and -that, it chanced that a blow which Sir Artegall -aimed at the Princess, glancing down the corslet -which she wore, lighted on the back of her horse, -wounding him so sorely upon the back, in the rear -of the saddle, that she was compelled to alight. -Not a whit was she dismayed at this mischance, -and casting down her enchanted spear, betook herself -to use sword and shield. And now the fortune -of the fight changed somewhat, for he was not a -little spent by long fighting on foot, and she, having -been mounted hitherto, had the advantage. Hence -it followed that she drove him backwards, and even, -so heavy were her blows, wounded him through his -coat of mail. And now behold! another change. -She was over-hasty in her assault, and her breath -began to fail; and he on the other hand reserved -his strength, and dealt his blows as thick as the -hailstones fall upon a roof—unhappy man, who -came so near to slaying the fairest creature in all -the world! Still was the battle waged between -these two, but ever Sir Artegall grew the stronger -and Britomart the weaker. At last he dealt a stroke -that, had it been aimed aright, had surely gone near -to slay her; but, by good chance, it did but shear -away the visor of her helmet, so that her face could -plainly be seen, somewhat reddened indeed by long -toil, and with the sweat standing on it in great -drops, but yet fair beyond all comparison. And at -the same time her hair, its band being broken, fell -down as it were a river of gold flowing about her. -Already had the knight lifted his hand to strike -again; but when he saw the fair face and golden -hair his arm was, as it were, benumbed, his sword -dropped from his hand, and he himself fell upon -his knees.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_186">186</div> -<p>“Surely,” he said to himself, “this is some goddess -that I see before me.” She stood, indeed, in -great wrath, for she had been in sore straits, and -anger ever follows close on fear, and made as if she -would strike him, but he could do nothing but ask -for pardon. Nor was Sir Scudamore less amazed, -for he had by this time recovered from his swoon, -when he saw the sight.</p> -<p>And now Glaucé, glad at heart to see again the -mistress whom she had missed so long, drew near, -and made her a reverence, saying: “Truly I rejoice -to see you safe after so many toils and dangers. -And now, dear daughter, as you love me, grant -these knights a truce.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_187">187</div> -<p>“So be it,” Britomart made answer. Thereupon -they lifted up their visors, so that their faces -could be seen. And when Britomart looked on the -face of Artegall, behold it was the very countenance -of the knight whom she had seen long since in -the magic mirror! And as she saw it her haughty -spirit abated. She could never again lift hand -against him; nay, when she thought to use her -tongue, and reproach him with angry words, even -her tongue failed her.</p> -<p>And now Sir Scudamore, greatly rejoiced to -know that all his fears and suspicions were false, -drew near and said: “Surely it makes me glad, -Sir Artegall, to see you who were wont to despise -all dames, bow yourself before one in so lowly a -fashion.” And when Britomart heard the name of -Artegall, her heart leaped within her breast, nor for -all her feigning could she hide the gladness which -she felt. Then said Glaucé again: “Gentle knights, -be thankful for the happy chance which has brought -so strange an ending to your fears and troubles. -Here is no thief that would take away from you the -ladies whom you love. And you, Sir Artegall, who -call yourself the Savage Knight, count it no shame -that a maid has so bravely held her own against -you, and strive no longer against love, which is the -very crown of knighthood. And you, fair lady, -turn away your wrath; if there is fire in your heart, -let it be the fire of love.” Britomart blushed deep to -hear these words, and Sir Artegall was glad at heart.</p> -<p>And now Sir Scudamore, who was divided -between hope and fear concerning his Amoret, -spoke, saying: “Pardon me if I ask you for tidings -of my Amoret. I know that you delivered her -at no small peril from the Enchanter’s prison. -Where is she? for I would seek her, as is, indeed, -my bounden duty.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_188">188</div> -<p>Britomart answered: “Sir Knight, it grieves -me much that I cannot tell you what you seek -to know. After I had delivered her from the -Enchanter, as you know, I kept her safe. And -truly there never was companion more dear to -me than she. But one day, as we travelled, we -lighted from our steeds by the wayside, to rest -awhile. Then I laid myself down to sleep; but -when I woke from my sleep, she was nowhere -to be seen. I called her; I sought her far and -near; but nowhere could I find her, or hear -tidings of her.”</p> -<p>When Sir Scudamore heard these words, he -was greatly troubled, and stood like to a man -who has received a mortal blow. But Glaucé -said: “Be not discouraged, fair sir; hope still for -the best; why should you trouble yourself in -vain?”</p> -<p>Little comfort did he take of these words, but -when Britomart said, “Truly you have great cause -for trouble; yet take comfort, by the light of day -I swear that I will never leave you till I find -and give her back to you,” then was he not a -little comforted, for he had a great trust that what -Britomart promised she would surely perform.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_189">189</div> -<p>Then they all journeyed together to a castle -that was near, Sir Artegall being their guide. -There they rested till their wounds were healed -and their strength repaired. Meanwhile Sir -Artegall paid court to Britomart, who, after much -persuasion, though, indeed, she was not unwilling -in her heart, consented to take him for her -husband. Nevertheless their marriage could not -be yet, because Sir Artegall was bound on a -great adventure which he must needs carry -through. Nor could she refuse to allow him to -depart, seeing that his honour was bound in the -matter. Only it was agreed that when three -months had waxed and waned, then he should -return. So the knight departed, Britomart going -with him for a part of his journey. Full loath -was she to leave him, finding ever new occasions -for delay. And when these were all spent, -then with a heavy heart did she return to the -castle, for she also had business in hand, even -to seek together with Sir Scudamore for the lost -Amoret.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_190">190</div> -<h2 id="c26"><span class="h2line1">CHAPTER XXVI</span> -<br /><span class="h2line2">OF THE FORTUNES OF AMORET</span></h2> -<p>It shall now be told how the fair Amoret was -lost. She and Britomart, riding away from -the place where Sir Satyrane had held his tournament, -chanced in their journey upon a wood. -There it seemed good to them to rest awhile. -Britomart, being not a little wearied with fighting -in the lists, fell fast asleep, but Amoret walked -in the wood. As she walked a giant rushed out -of a thicket hard by and seized her; she cried -aloud; but Britomart heard her not, so deep was -she in slumber. A horrible monster to behold -he was, feeding on the raw flesh of men and -beasts, with a face red as blood, and two great -ears, like to the ears of an elephant. He was -covered with shaggy hair, and in his hand a -young oak with sharp snags that had been -hardened in the fire, till they were as steel. He -carried her through the wood to his cave, and threw -her in. For a while she lay without sense; then, -being somewhat recovered, she heard someone -sighing and sobbing, and inquired who it was -that spoke.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_191">191</div> -<p>Then that other said: “Listen, unhappy one, -and I will tell you my story, from which you may -learn in what plight you yourself are. Twenty -days have I dwelt in this dreadful place; and in -these twenty days have I seen seven women slain -and devoured. And now he has for store three only, -yourself and me and an old woman yonder; and -of these three he will surely devour one to-morrow. -And if you ask my history it is this. I am daughter -to a lord of high degree, and it happened to me -to love a squire of low degree. Of low degree -he was, but so comely as to be a fit mate for the -proudest lady in the land. Nevertheless, my father, -loving me well after his fashion, and seeking my -advancement, would have none of him. But I, -being steadfast in my mind, made a resolve to -flee far from my home, and take with my lover -such a lot as fortune might bring. On a certain -day, therefore, it was appointed that I should meet -him at a certain place. To which place I came, -but he, alas! was not there. Then this monster -found me, and carried me away as an eagle carries -off a dove.”</p> -<p>After they had talked awhile, lo! the monster -himself came back to his cave. And Amoret, as -soon as she saw him, leapt from her place, which -chanced to be near to the mouth of the cave, and -fled away on her feet as fast as she could; and -the monster, perceiving her flight, pursued her. -Fleet of foot was she, but it had fared ill with -her but for a happy chance which brought her -help beyond all hope, as shall now be told.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_192">192</div> -<p>There dwelt in those parts a famous huntress, -Belphœbe by name; this Belphœbe was own sister -to Amoret. That day she was following the chase, -pursuing leopards and bears, of which beasts there -was a great multitude in those woods. With her -were her companions, the forest nymphs, and also -a gentle squire, who was her lover. Now the squire -chanced to be separated from the rest of his company, -and so came to the very place where the -monster was in chase of Amoret. By this time -he had overtaken her and caught her up in his -arms. And when the squire perceived it, and -set upon him, seeking to deliver her out of his -hands, the villain used this crafty device. When -the squire would have thrust at him with the -hunting-spear which he carried, then the monster -would shield himself with the body of Amoret. -And when the squire held back his blow, or when -the blow chanced to fall ever so lightly on the -dame, then the monster laughed aloud. So they two -contended awhile; but at the last the squire dealt his -adversary a shrewd blow and wounded him sorely. -But this did not abate his rage, for, throwing -Amoret on the ground, he set upon the squire -so fiercely with his club, that the man had much -ado to save himself from being beaten down. Nor -can it be known what had been the issue, for now -Belphœbe, hearing the sound of the strokes through -the wood, and guided by her ear, drew near, holding -her bow in her hand, with an arrow upon the string, -ready to be despatched. When the monster saw -her, he, knowing how deadly was her aim, turned -and fled. Nor did she fail to pursue; swift of -foot was she, and ere he could reach his cave, -she smote him on the back of the neck with an -arrow. He fell to the ground with a great crash, -and when she came up, thinking to put an end -to him, lo! he was already dead. Thereupon -she went into the cave, and while she wondered -that a place could be so foul, she heard a whispering -and a low sort of groaning. Then she said -to herself: “Are these spirits that suffer in this -place of dread and darkness?” and afterwards -aloud, “If there be any here, let them come forth, -if only they be free to move.” Thereupon Æmilia -stood up from the place where she had been -lying, and told her story. “Come forth,” said -Belphœbe, when she heard the tale; “haply, I -may give you help.” So she led her to the place -where she had left the squire and the fair Amoret. -And now there befell an evil chance which brought -about no small trouble.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_194">194</div> -<p>Amoret was in a piteous plight, as may easily -be believed. For first she had been affrighted -almost to death by the monster, and then she -had been sorely bruised when he cast her so -roughly to the ground. So she lay as one without -life, and the gentle squire was full of compassion -when he saw her hurts, especially the -wound which he himself had made with his hunting-spear, -when the monster held her before him -as a shield. And now Belphœbe, coming back -from the cave, saw him looking at her, as it -might be, in lover’s fashion, and a great pang -of jealousy and anger moved in her heart. At -first she thought to slay them both with the -arrow which she held in her hand. But keeping -herself back from this, she cried: “Is this, -then, the faith you keep?” And, with the word, -she turned her face and fled into the wood. The -squire, knowing that he was wrongly blamed, -made haste to follow her, yet, overtaking her, -he did not dare to come near; and when he -would have told her the truth, she would not -listen, but made as if she would slay him with -an arrow. So, after having long followed her -in vain, he turned back, and finding a solitary -place in the depth of a forest, made there a -cabin for himself, where he dwelt in most unhappy -sort. His weapons of war he broke, and -vowed never to use them again. Also he swore -a great oath that he would never more speak to -woman; his garments, which were of the seemliest -fashion, he cut into the strangest shape, and -his hair he suffered to grow as it would and fall -untrimmed about his shoulders. So he lived for -many days.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_195">195</div> -<p>It chanced one day that a turtle dove which also -had lost its mate came near, and, as if it could understand -what was in his heart, behaved in a most -friendly and familiar fashion. And this it did again -and again. The bird would sit upon the branch -of a tree hard by, and sing to him; and he, by way -of guerdon for its song, would share with him such -slender meals as he had. On a certain day he -brought out from a certain place certain gifts which -Belphœbe had bestowed upon him in the days -when the affection between them was yet unbroken. -Among these was a ruby of the finest water, with a -gold setting in the shape of a heart and a chain -of gold fastened to the setting. This jewel he -took, and binding it with a riband of his lady’s -colour, tied it round the neck of the dove, and -solaced his mind by gazing on it. But no sooner -had the bird felt the jewel tied about his neck than -he spread out his wings and flew away. Not a -little troubled was he at this matter, for he had lost, -not the companionship of the bird only, but the -jewel also. So was his trouble not a little increased. -But the bird flew in a straight line to the abode of -Belphœbe, and found her sitting in an arbour, taking -rest from the toils of the chase. For she still followed -in the ways of a huntress, though, in truth, -she was not a little troubled that she had lost her -lover. So soon as she saw the bird, she spied the -jewel about his neck, and knew it for her own gift, -and the riband also wherewith it was bound. Thereupon -she rose from her place, and would have caught -it in her hand, but the bird flew away. For a short -space it flew, and then tarried for a space, and then -when Belphœbe came near, flew away once more. -So it drew the lady on from place to place, ever -seeming ready to be caught, yet ever again escaping, -till it brought her to the place where the squire -dwelt in his unhappiness. There it perched on his -hand, and sang a song, sweet and sad, as if to suit -his sorrowful estate. So spent was he with grief -and trouble that the lady knew him not, but only -saw that he was in great misery, yet judged that he -had fallen into it from better things. Thereupon -she said: “Unhappy man, what has brought you -into this evil plight? If it is Heaven’s will, then we -must submit; but if it is of man’s wrongdoing, then -may the wrong be set right. But if it is of your -own will, know that no man should so neglect the -gifts of God, who wills that all should be happy.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_196">196</div> -<p>“O lady,” answered the squire, “surely it is -no one but yourself that has brought me into this -trouble.” And he showed her the whole truth.</p> -<p>So peace was made again between the two.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_197">197</div> -<h2 id="c27"><span class="h2line1">CHAPTER XXVII</span> -<br /><span class="h2line2">OF SIR ARTEGALL AND THE KNIGHT SANGLIER</span></h2> -<p>It is now time that the story of Sir Artegall should -be told; how he was bred up in the ways of -justice. Now this story, as it was commonly reported, -was this: Astræa, who was the Goddess of -Justice, found him when he was a child playing with -other children of a like age; she, liking him well, -and finding him innocent and without guile, took him -away with her to a solitary place where she dwelt—for -as yet she lived upon the earth—and there -instructed and trained him to be such an one as -she desired. She taught him to weigh right and -wrong in equal scales, and to measure out equity -according to the rule of conscience. And because -there were no men in the place, she taught him to -seek experience of the right way among the beasts -of the forest; for these also oppress their own kind. -Also she caused him to be instructed in the use of -arms, in which use he became in due time most -expert, so that he came to be held in high repute, -as being one who could not only distinguish most -truly between right and wrong, but could also maintain -the same by force of arms. Also she gave him -a sword of great repute which Jupiter himself had -used in his war against the Titans; Chrysaor was -its name, which, being interpreted, is “Sword of -Gold.” Of finest temper was it, and beautiful to -behold. Also she gave her servant to attend upon -him—Talus was his name. This same Talus -wielded an iron flail with which to thresh out -falsehood and separate the truth.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_198">198</div> -<p>This Artegall, being now come to years of -manhood, betook himself, as was the wont of all -worthy knights in those days, to the Court of -Queen Gloriana. And she gave him as the task -which he should accomplish, the succouring of a -distressed lady, Irene by name, from whom a -tyrant, whom men called Grantorto, withheld the -heritage which was rightly hers. For she judged -that there was no man who could better discern the -right, and having discerned it could more effectually -cause it to prevail.</p> -<p>So it came to pass that he and Talus, who was -his squire, rode off on their errand. On their -way they saw as sorry a sight as ever was seen by -mortal eyes, a squire sitting upon the ground in -most doleful fashion, and hard by him, lying on the -ground, the headless corpse of a lady. It was -indeed a piteous thing to see the gay apparel of -the dead, most cruelly drenched in blood.</p> -<p>“Now tell me,” cried Sir Artegall, “by what -foul mischance this dreadful thing has happened.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_199">199</div> -<p>“Oh, sir,” answered the squire, “as I sat here -with the lady whom I love, there came riding by a -knight who had in his company this fair dame -whom you see lying here. And whether he was -taken with the sight of my love, or was weary of -his own, I know not; but this he said: ‘Ho! fellow, -let us make exchange.’ And when I denied his -request, and the two ladies also cried out upon him, -then he threw down the dame his companion on the -ground, and lawlessly taking away from me my -own, set her upon his horse. And when his lady -saw what he had done, and how he was riding -away, she followed him as fast as she could, and -laying hold of his arm, cried out: ‘Leave me not -in this fashion; slay me rather!’ And he in a fury -drew his sword, and with a single stroke shore off -her head, even in the place where now she lies. -And now he has gone, taking my love with him.”</p> -<p>“Tell me,” said Sir Artegall, “by which way he -went. Tell me also by what signs I may know -him.”</p> -<p>“But, fair sir,” the squire made answer, “he -has gone so long that you can scarce hope to overtake -him. Yet, if you would know the way, he -rode across the plain.” And he pointed with his -hand to the course which the knight had followed. -“As for the marks, know that he carried on his -shield a broken sword on a field of blood; and, -indeed, it seemed to be a fitting emblem.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_200">200</div> -<p>“Follow him,” said Sir Artegall to his page -Talus. And the page followed him swift as a -swallow flies over a field. Nor was it long before -he overtook the knight—Sir Sanglier he was called—and -bade him come back with him, and answer -for his deed. No little scorn did the knight feel to -be so commanded, and, setting down the lady whom -he carried on his steed, rode at the page Talus with -all his force. Full on the body he struck him, but -moved him no more than a rock is moved by some -stone that is thrown at it. On the other hand, -Talus dealt him such a blow that he laid him prostrate -on the ground. Ere he could recover himself, -Talus had seized him in an iron grip, and -forced him to follow him, the lady also, though she -would have fled in her fear, following. So they -came to Sir Artegall.</p> -<p>“What is this that you have done?” said Sir -Artegall.</p> -<p>“Nay,” said the knight, “I did it not: I am -guiltless of the blood of this dame, and this I will -prove on the body of this false squire, if he will -meet me hand to hand.”</p> -<p>Now the squire was not of such prowess as to -meet so doughty a knight. Then said Sir Artegall: -“This is a doubtful cause, which it were not well to -try by arbitrament of battle. Will you therefore -commit the matter to me, and abide by my judgment -and sentence?”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_201">201</div> -<p>To this they both consented. Then said Sir -Artegall: “Since each of you denies that this lady -came by her death through his deed, and each -claims the living lady as his own, my judgment is -that both the living and the dead shall be equally -divided, and each shall have his part both of one -and of the other. Also I decree that if either of -you two shall reject this my sentence, he shall -carry this head as a penance for twelve months, -by way of witness that he brought about her -death.”</p> -<p>Sir Sanglier gladly accepted the doom, but the -squire was ill-content, for he really loved the dame -who had been reft from him. “Nay,” said he, “I -would rather by far that she should live, though I -lose her.”</p> -<p>“’Tis well said, squire!” cried Sir Artegall, -“and now I perceive that you are indeed guiltless in -this matter. As for you, Sir Knight, who care so -little for the living or the dead, take this head and -carry it for a twelve months’ space, to be a witness -of your shame and guilt.” Sir Sanglier was ill -content with this sentence, and would have refused -to abide by it. Only, when he saw Talus approaching -with intent to compel him, he made his submission, -for he knew by experience how great was -his strength.</p> -<p>Then said the squire: “Oh, sir, you have done -me such service as I can never repay. Let me -therefore attend you as your squire, and that without -fee or favour.”</p> -<p>“Not so,” Sir Artegall made answer, “I am -well content to be as I am. Do you follow your -own affairs. As for me, Talus here will be sufficient -for my needs.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_202">202</div> -<h2 id="c28"><span class="h2line1">CHAPTER XXVIII</span> -<br /><span class="h2line2">OF OTHER ADVENTURES OF SIR ARTEGALL</span></h2> -<p>As Sir Artegall, with Talus following, rode on, he -met a dwarf who was travelling with all the -speed that he could use. “Stay awhile,” he said, -“for I have somewhat to ask of you.” And the -dwarf, though somewhat loath, could not but yield. -Now the dwarf’s name was Dony, and he served the -fair Florimell. Not a little of his discourse, therefore, -concerned the said Florimell. He told how -Marinell was recovered of the grievous wound -which Britomart had given him, and how he was -to wed the fair Florimell.</p> -<p>“Say you so?” cried Artegall. “Tell me, -therefore, when the marriage shall be, for I would -fain be present at the celebration.”</p> -<p>“In three days’ time, as I am informed,” -answered the dwarf, “and I too should be there, -and the place is the castle by the seashore; only -there is a hindrance in the way, for a little farther -on from this place, a cruel Saracen keeps the bridge -by which one must needs pass. Much harm has he -done already to travellers, and men are fain to shun -the way that lies thereby.”</p> -<p>“Tell me more about the villain,” said Sir -Artegall. Then Dony set forth the whole matter.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_203">203</div> -<p>“He is a man of great strength, and expert in -battle. Moreover, he is not a little helped by the -charms with which the wicked witch, his daughter, -supports him. Thus he has gathered together -much wealth, store of gold, and lordships and -farms. This wealth he daily increases, greatly by -means of this same bridge which he holds by force -of arms. No one will he suffer to go over unless -he first pays a toll, be he rich or poor. If the -traveller be poor, then a squire whom he sets over -this business extorts from him this tribute. As for -the richer sort, these he deals with himself. Men -call him Pollenté, which, being interpreted, is -‘Powerful,’ and the name is fitting, for much power -he has. And besides the power he has not a little -cunning, for he is wont to fight on this same bridge. -Exceeding long is it and narrow, and full of pitfalls -which he knows, but a stranger knows not. And -often it happens that the stranger falls through one -of these said pitfalls into the river beneath. And -while he is confused with his fall, Pollenté leaps -into the river and takes him at a disadvantage, -and either slays him outright or causes him to -drown. Then he takes the spoils of them who -perish in this fashion, and brings them to his -daughter, who dwells hard by. Thus she has -gathered together great store of wealth, so that she -exceeds even kings. Her they call Munera. Very -fair is she, and gorgeously attired; many lords have -sought to have her for a wife, but in her pride she -thinks scorn of them all.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_204">204</div> -<p>This is the story which Dony the dwarf told to -Sir Artegall. When the knight heard it, he cried, -“Now, by my life, I will go none other way but -this, God helping me.”</p> -<p>So he went on with Talus, and the dwarf followed. -When they came to the bridge, there came to them an -evil-looking villain, who said, “Give me the passage-money, -according to the custom of the place!”</p> -<p>“Here,” answered Sir Artegall, “is my passage-money,” -and therewith dealt him such a blow that -he fell dead upon the ground. When the Saracen -knight saw this, he was very wrath, and charged -at Sir Artegall full tilt; nor did Sir Artegall lag -behind. They met in the middle of the bridge, -where there was a trap cunningly devised. The -Saracen looked that his adversary should fall into -it unawares and be sorely bruised and wounded; -but Sir Artegall, having been forewarned by the -dwarf, leapt into the river, clear of all that might -do damage to horse or man. The Saracen leapt in -like fashion, and the two met in the water, not one -whit less hotly than had they been on the dry land. -And here the pagan had no small advantage, for he -was accustomed to fight in this fashion, and his -horse also could swim like a fish. Sir Artegall, -perceiving that the odds were against him, saw -that he must close with his adversary without delay. -Long they wrestled together, and Sir Artegall -never loosened his grip one whit, and at last forced -him from his saddle, so that he no longer had the -advantage of the swimming of his horse. And yet -the issue of the fight was doubtful awhile, for the -Saracen was both brave and expert in arms. -Nevertheless Sir Artegall had the better breath, -as one that followed temperance in all things, and -so prevailed until the Saracen was compelled to -turn from the river to the land, hoping so to escape. -Yet even as he lifted his head from the stream to -the brink, the knight dealt him so heavy a blow -that it clean shore the head from the neck. And -this being done, then he went his way to the castle -where the pagan’s daughter dwelt.</p> -<div class="img" id="pic7"> -<img src="images/p_07-p221.jpg" alt="" width="704" height="999" /> -<p class="caption"><span class="sc">Sir Artegall and the Saracen.</span></p> -</div> -<div class="pb" id="Page_205">205</div> -<p>Here he was denied entrance, being received -with so great a shower of stones that he was forced -to retreat. Then he sent Talus, bidding him compel -an entrance. And this he did without damage -to himself, and with his iron flail he battered the -door so fiercely that the whole place shook from -the foundation to the roof. All who were within -were greatly dismayed, and the Lady Munera -herself came out, and stood upon the castle wall. -When she saw in what peril she was, she used all -the devices which she could imagine to deliver -herself. First she besought the adversary with -many prayers to cease from his attack—and, indeed, -she was not wont to beseech in vain. Then she -tried what enchantments could do, and of these she -had a great store at her command. And when -she found that prayers and enchantments availed -nothing, she thought to corrupt the man with great -gifts. She caused sacks of gold and precious things -to be brought, and poured from the castle wall, -thinking to herself that he would surely cease from -his battering, and give her, at the least, some respite -and delay.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_206">206</div> -<p>But the riches moved him no more than the entreaties -and enchantments. Still he battered with -his iron flail till he broke down the door and made -a way for his master to enter. No one dared to -lift a hand against them: all through the castle -they moved at their will. The Lady Munera for -a while they could not find. At the last Talus, -than whom a bloodhound was not more keen to -scent a runaway, found her hidden under a heap -of gold. Thence he drew her from her lair, pitying -her not at all. For now even Sir Artegall, -seeing how fair she was, had some compassion in -his heart, and when she knelt before him would -have given her some remission of the penalty. -But there was no such thought in the heart of -Talus. He cared for naught but to do justice to -the full. So he took her by the waist, she crying -loudly the while, and cast her into the river. And -when he had wrought this justice upon her, he -took all the pelf that he found in the castle, and -ground it small to powder, and threw it into the -water. This done, he razed the castle to the -ground, destroying it utterly, so that no one in -days to come should think to set it up again. -After this Sir Artegall reformed the evil customs -of the bridge, ordering that in time to come it -should be free for all to pass over.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_207">207</div> -<p>This good deed accomplished, they journeyed -on to the castle by the sea, where the nuptials of -Sir Marinell and the fair Florimell were to be -celebrated with great honour. There were great -feastings and rejoicings, to which an infinite concourse -of lords and ladies resorted from all quarters; -no knight that was held in repute for valour and -deeds of arms was absent. When the banquet, -which was furnished with all rare meats and drinks -that the heart of man could desire, was finished, -then the company addressed themselves to feats -of arms. First came forth Sir Marinell and six -knights with him, declaring to hold the field against -all comers, in right of Florimell, and to affirm that -she was the fairest of all the ladies upon earth. -Against these there came from all parts such as -desired to try their fortune in the lists—none were -debarred. Many feats of arms were wrought that -day; many knights were unhorsed, and some were -wounded; but none, so it was judged by common -consent, bore themselves more bravely than did -Sir Marinell. His name, therefore, did the heralds -proclaim as the champion of the day. And on the -second day the event was the same. There was -much fighting, many suffered loss and overthrow; -and in the end the heralds proclaimed, as they had -done before, the victory of Sir Marinell. But on -the third day things fell out otherwise, for the -knight pursuing his adversaries when he had put -them to flight, somewhat rashly, was surrounded -by them and taken prisoner. While they were -leading him away, it so chanced that Sir Artegall -came into the tilting-yard, and close behind him -followed Bragadocchio, who had in his company the -false Florimell.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_208">208</div> -<p>When Sir Artegall understood what mishap had -befallen Sir Marinell, he said to Bragadocchio: “I -would fain help this brave knight; but I would not -have anyone know who I am: therefore, I pray -thee, change shields with me.” And Bragadocchio -full willingly did so, thinking that he might thus -win to himself renown without cost or danger. Sir -Artegall, therefore, taking Bragadocchio’s shield, -set upon the knights who were leading away Sir -Marinell. There were a hundred in all. Of these -fifty assailed him, and the other fifty stayed behind -to guard the prisoner. But for all that there were -so many they could not stand against him. The -fifty who assailed him he speedily put to flight, and -the fifty who would have kept the prisoner did not -hinder Sir Artegall from setting him free. Then Sir -Marinell being delivered and armed anew, for they -had taken his arms from him, the two joined their -forces and drove their adversaries out of the field. -There was not one among them who could hold up -his head or make a stand against them. When Sir -Artegall had accomplished this, then he gave back -the shield to Bragadocchio, who had stayed to see -the issue of the day, keeping with him the false -Florimell.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_209">209</div> -<p>After this the trumpets sounded, and the judges -rose up in their place and summoned the company, -saying: “Hear! All ye knights who have borne -arms to-day, and know to whom the prize of valour -is awarded.” Then came forth the fair Florimell -from the place where she sat, as queen of the -tourney, that she might give to each knight his -proper guerdon, and to him who should be held -to have best acquitted himself, the first prize of all. -Loudly did they call for the stranger knight who -had wrought such prodigies of valour and strength -in delivering Sir Marinell. He did not come forward, -but in his stead Bragadocchio presented himself, -with the shield bearing the device which all -men knew—namely, a sun shining in a field of gold. -When the company saw this, they, thinking that -this was indeed the champion, set up a great shout, -and the trumpets sounded, and Florimell rose up -and greeted him most graciously, thanking him for -his championship. But all this praise turned the -vain fellow’s mind. “Not for your sake, madam,” -said he, “but for my own dear lady’s sake did I -this,” adding other words such as could not pass -the lips of a true knight. Then he called to -Trompart his squire, saying, “Bring forth the -fairest of all dames!” Thereupon Trompart led -forth the false Florimell; for he had her in keeping, -hidden by a veil from the common sight.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_210">210</div> -<p>Great was the astonishment of the company -when they saw her. “This surely is Florimell,” -they said to themselves, “or, if it be not, then it -is one fairer than she.” Never were men more -perplexed than the guests that day. Nor was Sir -Marinell himself less amazed than the rest, and, as -he gazed, the more and more steadfastly did he -believe that this false Florimell was indeed the -true.</p> -<p>But now Sir Artegall, who stood in the press -of the crowd, closely disguised, heard the false -boaster’s words, and could not contain himself any -more, but came forth and cried with a loud voice: -“False boaster, strutting thus in borrowed plumes, -and doing dishonour to others with your lies, verily -when each shall have his due, great will be your -disgrace! ’Tis true that the shield which you bear -was this day borne by him who delivered Sir Marinell, -but yours was not the arm which struck the -blow. And now hold forth your sword and let it -show what marks of battle it bears, and if you bear -in your body the mark of a wound, let this company -behold it; nay, boaster, this is the sword -which won the victory, and these the wounds which -were endured in the winning!” And here he -showed his sword, which bore the dint of many -a blow, and the wounds which he carried on his -arms and his body. “And,” he further said, “as -for this Florimell of yours, I warrant she is no true -dame, but only a fit companion for such as you.” -Then he took the true Florimell by the hand and -led her, she blushing the while, for the colour on -her fair face was of roses mixed with lilies, and set -her by the side of the false. And then, lo! a great -marvel! The false dame melted away as snow -melts in the sunshine! In a moment naught remained -of her save only the empty girdle which -once had compassed her waist. So on a day of -storm we see a rainbow spanning the sky with all -its goodly colours, and in a moment it vanishes -from our sight, so did this lovely creature, the false -Florimell, vanish from before the eyes of that company. -And now Sir Artegall took up the golden -girdle which alone remained of all that fair show, -for this, indeed, was true, while all else was false. -This he presented to the true Florimell, and she -forthwith fastened it about her waist. Many a fair -dame before had essayed to do it, but not one had -found it truly and rightly fit.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_211">211</div> -<p>But the end of these things was not yet, for -now Sir Guyon came forth from the crowd to claim -his own good steed, which, as has been told, had -been stolen from him in time past by this false -thief. With one hand he seized the golden bit, -and with the other he drew forth his sword from -its sheath, for he would have smitten the knave -with a deadly blow, but that the press hindered -him, for now there was a great tumult in the place. -Thereupon Sir Artegall came forth and would fain -know how the knight had been robbed of his horse. -Then Sir Guyon told the story how, while he was -busy setting right a grievous wrong, some knave -had stolen his horse. “And now,” said he, “I -challenge the knave who robbed me of it to deadly -combat.” So he spoke, but Bragadocchio held back. -He had no liking for such things.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_212">212</div> -<p>Then said Sir Artegall: “This is truly the law -of knighthood, that if one man claim a thing and -offer to make good his claim by might of arms, and -the other will not, the judgment goes against the -latter by default. Nevertheless, for further and -clearer discovery of the truth, can you who claim -this horse as your own declare some tokens in -proof?”</p> -<p>To this answered Sir Guyon: “Most truly I -can. Such a token there is: a black spot in the -beast’s mouth like in shape to a horse’s shoe.” But -when they thought to look into his mouth so as -to discern the token, he wounded first one and then -another so sorely that they were like to die. From -no one would he suffer such a thing. But when -Sir Guyon called him by his name—Brigador—he, -hearing the voice, stood still, as if he had been -bound, and suffered them to open his mouth, so -that all could see the mark as it had been described. -Nay more, he would follow Sir Guyon, breaking the -band with which he was tied, and frisked right gaily, -ay, and bent his knee.</p> -<p>Then said Sir Artegall: “Now it may be plainly -discerned that the horse is indeed yours. Take it -therefore, with its saddle of gold, and let this boaster -go horseless, till he can win a steed for himself.”</p> -<p>Much was Bragadocchio moved to be so shamed -in the presence of all that company—so moved that -for a while he laid aside his very cowardice, and -broke forth into angry words against Sir Artegall. -The knight made as if he would have slain the -knave with his sword, but Sir Guyon stayed him. -“Sir,” said he, “it would ill suit your dignity to -vent your wrath on such a knave as this. The -meetest punishment for him is to be put to open -shame in the sight of all this company.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_213">213</div> -<p>But Talus was not minded to let the knave -escape so easily. He caught him by the neck and -led him out of the hall, and shaved his beard, and -reft away his shield, and blotted out the escutcheon, -and defaced all his arms. Nor did the false squire, -Trompart, fare better, though he cunningly had -essayed to fly, for Talus overtook him and served -him in the like way. So may all makers of falsehood -fare!</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_214">214</div> -<h2 id="c29"><span class="h2line1">CHAPTER XXIX</span> -<br /><span class="h2line2">SIR ARTEGALL DOES JUSTICE</span></h2> -<p>The marriage of Sir Marinell and the fair -Florimell having been duly celebrated with -much rejoicing and great festivity, Sir Artegall -set forth again upon his travels. On his way, -which for a while lay by the seashore, he came -upon two men who were wholly taken up with -a great quarrel. They were brothers, as might -clearly be seen by the likeness between them. -Near them stood two fair dames who would fain -have reconciled them; but the brothers took no -heed of their words, whether they spoke gently -or in threatening fashion. Between them stood a -strong chest, bound about with bands of iron; it -seemed to have been much battered, whether by -the violence of the sea or by the chances of long -travel from foreign parts. It was indeed for this -that the two seemed to be contending, for now the -one and now the other would lay his hands upon -it; so did they well-nigh come to blows, but the -two damsels had so far hindered them from coming -to this extremity. Not the less were they bent on -trying their cause by the sword. It seemed as if -it could not be decided in any other fashion. But -when they were on the point to do so, notwithstanding -all that the damsels could say or do, then -did Sir Artegall appear.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_215">215</div> -<p>“Sirs,” said he, “are you content to tell me -the cause of your strife?” To this the two gave a -common consent.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_216">216</div> -<p>“Sir,” said the elder—Bracidas was his name—“our -father, who was a knight, Milesio by name, -divided between us, by his testament, his estate, -that is to say, two islands which you see yonder. -One is but a little mount, but in years past it was -fully as long and broad as that which you see on -the other side of the bay. To me he bequeathed -that island which you see to be so small; for -the sea, as years have passed by, has wasted it, -and in so doing has largely increased the other, -for what the waves took away from my land they -added unto his. There is also this to be told. I -was betrothed to that fair lady who stands yonder, -Philtera by name, and with her I was to receive -a goodly dowry, so soon as we should be linked -together in bonds of wedlock. My younger brother, -whose name is Amidas, was betrothed to that other -dame whom you see yonder, Lucy by name. She -had but small dower, but much of that which is -far better—to wit, goodness. Now when the lady -Philtera saw that my lands had been greatly decayed -and the lands of my brother not less increased, she -deserted me and betook herself to my brother, -who, that he might receive her, deserted his own -betrothed, to wit, the fair Lucy. Thereupon this -damsel, in her unhappiness, thinking it better to -die than to suffer such a contumely and pain, threw -herself into the sea. But while she floated among -the waves, being, I take it, buoyed up by her -clothing, she chanced upon this chest which you -see. And now there befell her what has often -befallen others in like case. She, who had thought -death to be better than life, when she saw his -terrors close at hand, changed her mind, and desired -to live. Catching hold, therefore, of this chest, -she clung to it, and after much tossing by the sea, -was at last thrown upon my island, and I, chancing -at that time to be walking on the shore, espied -her; and she being by this time much spent with -hunger and cold, and little able to help herself, I -did, so to speak, save her from death. And she, -being not a little grateful for this same help, bestowed -upon me the dowry which fortune had given -her, to wit the chest on which she had chanced, and -what was far more precious, her own self. When -we had opened the chest, we found in it a great -store of treasure, and took it for our own use. But -now this damsel, Philtera, maintains that this chest -is hers by right, that she was bringing it from -foreign lands that she might deliver it to her -husband, and that she suffered shipwreck by the -way. Whether this be so or no, I cannot say; -but this I do maintain, that whatever by good -fortune or by the ordering of God has been brought -into my hands is verily mine, I not having in -any wise contrived the same. My land he has, -and also my betrothed, though of that I take no -count, but my good luck he shall not have!”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_217">217</div> -<p>To this the younger of the two made this answer: -“As for the two islands, it is as my brother has -said. I do not deny the truth. But as for this -chest and the treasure therein, which has been cast -by the sea upon his island, that I do affirm to -belong to the Lady Philtera, my wife, as she can -prove by most certain signs and tokens, and I do -claim that it be straightway rendered up to her.”</p> -<p>Sir Artegall said: “It were no hard thing to -decide this matter, if you would refer it to the -judgment of some just man. Are you content so -to do?”</p> -<p>“Yes,” said the two with one voice, “you shall -be a judge between us, and we will abide by the -judgment that you shall give.”</p> -<p>“Then lay down your swords under my feet,” -said Sir Artegall, and they laid them down.</p> -<p>Then Sir Artegall, turning himself to the younger -of the two brothers, said to him: “Tell me now by -what right you hold for yourself, and withhold from -your brother, the land which the sea has taken from -him and added to you?”</p> -<p>“I do so,” the man made answer, “because the -sea bestowed it upon me.”</p> -<p>“You are in the right,” said Sir Artegall; “it is -yours, keep it.” Then turning himself to the elder, -he said: “Bracidas, by what right do you hold -this treasure of which your brother and his wife -affirm, and not without reason, that it is theirs?”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_218">218</div> -<p>“I hold it,” said he, “because the sea bestowed -it upon me.”</p> -<p>“You also are in the right,” said Sir Artegall; -“it is yours; keep it.” Then, speaking to both, -he thus declared his sentence: “That which the -sea has taken is his own. None who before -possessed it has claim upon it. He may bestow -it as he will. The land which he took from -Sir Bracidas he gave to Sir Amidas; let it -therefore remain in his hand. The treasure -which he took from Sir Amidas, or from the -Lady Philtera, his wife, he gave to Sir Bracidas; -let him also keep it.”</p> -<p>The matter being settled, the knight went on -his way. After a while he espied a great rout -of people, and turned aside from the road that -he might discover what it might mean. When -he came near he saw a great crowd of women, -in warlike array, with weapons in their hands. -And in the midst of them he saw a knight, with -his hands tied tightly behind his back, and a -halter about his neck; his face was covered, but -his head was bare. It was plain that the man -was about to be hanged. And, as they went, -the women reviled him in bitter words. When -Sir Artegall came near, he said: “Tell me, pray, -what this may mean.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_219">219</div> -<p>To this they gave no answer, but made as if -they would assault him. Then, at the knight’s -bidding, Talus went among them, and with a -few strokes of his iron flail sent them flying -hither and thither. Then he took the knight, -who would otherwise have been put to death, -and brought him to Sir Artegall.</p> -<p>“Sir Turpine, unhappy man”—it so chanced -that he knew the man—“how came you into this -evil plight? How is it that you suffered yourself -to be thus enslaved by women, who should -rather be subject to men?” Sir Turpine was -sore ashamed and confounded, and could say but -little in his excuse for himself; but this was the -story which he told.</p> -<p>“I was desirous, as was indeed my knightly -duty, to find some adventure which would be -praiseworthy in itself, and also bring me to -honour. And I heard a report that there was -a proud amazon who was accustomed to defy all -the knights of Queen Gloriana. Some she had -put to shame, and some she had slain. And -the cause of her rage was this. She had loved -the bold Bellodant, and when he disdained her, -then her love was turned to hatred, not towards -him only, but towards all knights, to whom she -worked, as, indeed, she still works, all the mischief -that she can devise. Any whom she can -subdue, either by force or fraud, she treats in -the most evil fashion. First she takes from them -their arms and armour, and then she clothes them -in women’s garments, and compels them to earn -their bread by women’s work, spinning and sewing -and washing and the like. And all the food that -she gives them in recompense is but bread and -water, so as to disable them from taking their -revenge. And if anyone is of so manly a mind -that he sets himself against her pleasure, him she -causes to be hanged out of hand on that gibbet -which you see yonder. And in this case I stood. -For when she overcame me in fight, then she -put me into that base service of which I have -spoken; and when I refused, then she sent me -with that rabble of women whom you dispersed, -that I might be done to death.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_220">220</div> -<p>“By what name do they call this amazon?” -said Sir Artegall, “and where does she dwell?”</p> -<p>“Her name,” answered Sir Turpine, “is -Radigund; a princess is she of great power -and pride, well tried in arms and skilled in battle, -more than I could have believed had I not known -it by my own experience.”</p> -<p>“Then,” said Sir Artegall, “by the faith which -I owe to my queen, and the knighthood which -I bear, I will not rest till I have made trial of -this same amazon, and have found out for myself -what she has of strength and skill. And now, -Sir Turpine, put off these unseemly clothes which -you wear, and come with me that you may see -how my enterprise shall prosper, and whether -I shall avenge the cause of knighthood upon -this woman.”</p> -<p>To which request Sir Turpine consented with -all his heart.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_221">221</div> -<h2 id="c30"><span class="h2line1">CHAPTER XXX</span> -<br /><span class="h2line2">RADIGUND</span></h2> -<p>Radigund the amazon dwelt a mile or so -from the place where the gallows had been -set up, in a city which she had called Radigone, -after her own name. On the walls of the city were -set watchmen to warn the queen of the coming of -strangers. One of these espied Sir Artegall and -his company, and gave warning accordingly, -saying: “I see three strangers; one of them is a -knight fully armed, and the others have a warlike -look!” Thereupon all the people ran in haste to -arm themselves, like to bees when they come forth -in a swarm from their hive, and Radigund herself, -half-arrayed as a man, came forth from her palace. -Meanwhile the three drew near to the city gate, -and when the porter, thinking scorn of them -because they were so few, did not trouble to open -to them the gate, they beat upon it with many -blows, threatening the man also that he should -suffer much for his insolence.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_222">222</div> -<p>When the queen heard this she fell into a -great rage and cried: “Open the gate; these -fellows shall soon know to what a city they have -come!” So the porter threw wide the gate, and -the three pressed forward, meaning to pass through. -But lo! of a sudden there fell upon them such a -storm of arrows that they had perforce to halt.</p> -<p>“These women,” said Sir Artegall, “are stout -fighters; let us be careful what we do.” And -when they halted, the rout set upon them more -fiercely than ever. As for Queen Radigund, when -she saw Sir Turpine, and knew that he had -escaped from the doom which she had decreed for -him, and was now dealing blows to her women, -she was carried away with rage, and flew at him -headlong, as a lioness flings herself at an ox, and -dealt him so fierce a blow as brought him headlong -to the ground. And when she saw him lying -she set her foot upon his neck, with intent to make -him pay with his life for his disparagement of her -authority. So does a bear stand over the carcase -of an ox, and seem to pause awhile to hear its -piteous crying. When Sir Artegall saw what had -befallen Sir Turpine, he made all haste to help -him, and dealt the queen so mighty a blow that it -reft her of her senses; nay, but that she somewhat -broke its force, for she was expert in arms, it had -laid her dead upon the ground. For a while she -lay without speech or hearing; then, recovering -herself, she would have assailed him with all her -might, for never before had she endured such -disgrace. But when her maidens saw it, for a -great company, armed for battle, accompanied her, -they thrust themselves between; for they deemed -that she was not wholly in fit condition for fighting. -Thus were Sir Artegall and Queen Radigund -perforce kept apart. As for the rest, Talus, with -his iron flail, drove them hither and thither, breaking -their bows and marring their shooting, and -they fled before him as sheep fly from a wolf.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_223">223</div> -<p>When evening came, Queen Radigund bade -the trumpeters sound a recall, so that the soldiers -should cease fighting. All the people she made -pass back into the city; and she caused all them -that were wounded to be carried to houses where -their hurts might be healed. Then Sir Artegall -caused his tent to be pitched, on the open plain, -not far from the gate of the city. There he and -Sir Turpine took their ease, but Talus, as was his -custom, kept watch all the night. But Radigund -was ill-content with what had happened that day; -never before had her pride been so rebuked. She -could not rest, but cast about in her mind how she -could avenge herself for the shame which had been -put upon her that day, and that for the first time in -her life. After a while she made this resolve in -her mind; that she would meet the knight in single -combat and make trial of his strength, for that her -people should suffer such waste and ruin as she -had seen that day was a thing not to be endured. -Then she asked for one of her maidens, Clarin by -name, whom she judged to be most trustworthy, -and fit to do her errand, and said to her: “Clarin, -go quickly, and bear a message to the stranger -knight, who has so distressed us this day, saying -that I will meet him to-morrow in single combat, -that we may see whether he or I be the better. -Say also that these are my conditions: If I overcome -him, then he shall render me obedience and -be bound for ever to my service; and I, if he -should vanquish me, do promise to do the same. -Go, therefore, taking with you six of your fellows, -arrayed as finely as may be, that they may be -witnesses of this covenant! Take with you also -wine and meats, that he may eat. Verily, if I have -my will, he shall sit hungry many a day!”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_224">224</div> -<p>So the damsel did as she was bidden, taking -with her six companions, and meat and drink also. -When she came to the gate of the city she bade -the trumpeter blow a blast for warning to the -knights. And when Talus came forth, she said that -she would fain speak with his master. So being -brought with her companions into the tent, she -delivered to him the message of the queen. Sir -Artegall received her right courteously, and when -she had departed—not without gifts—he betook -himself to sleep.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_225">225</div> -<p>The next day the two adversaries made themselves -ready for battle. Sir Artegall was accoutred -as knights commonly are; not so Queen Radigund. -She wore a purple cloak, embroidered with silver, -with ribands of diverse colours, nicely ordered -upon it. This cloak, for easier motion, she -shortened to her thighs; but when she pleased, -she could let it fall to her heels. She had for -defence of her body a cuirass of chain-mail; -buskins she had, finely embroidered with bars of -gold; at her side she had a scimitar hanging to a -most gorgeous belt; her shield was finely decked -with precious stones, it was like the moon when it -is at the full. In this guise she came out of the -city gate, a noble sight to see; about her was a -bodyguard of maidens, some of whom made music -with shawms and trumpets. Her people had -pitched a pavilion for her, where she might rest -till the fight should begin. After this Sir Artegall -came out of his tent, fully armed, and first entered -the lists. Nor did Radigund long delay to follow -him. And when the lists had been barred against -the crowd, for a great multitude of people were -gathered to see the issue of the battle, the trumpets -sounded the signal, and the combat began.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_226">226</div> -<p>The queen charged first in the most furious -fashion, as if she would have done her adversary -to death out of hand. But he, having had much -experience in such matters, was not carried out of -himself by her rage, but was content to defend -himself from her assault; the greater was her fury, -the more calmly did he bear himself. But when -her strength began to fail her, then he took the -other part; even as a smith, when he finds the -metal grow soft, plies his hammer with all his -might. Even so did Sir Artegall deal blow upon -blow as if she were an anvil; and the sparks flew -from her armour, and from her shield also, for with -this she guarded herself in right skilful fashion from -his assault. But now things began to go ill with -her; for off this same shield the knight with one -stroke shore away a full half, so that her side for -half its length was exposed. Yet not one whit was -she dismayed, but, smiting him with her scimitar, -wounded him on the thigh, making the blood flow -amain. Loud did she boast when she saw the -blood, thinking that she had wounded him to death; -but he, provoked by her boasting, struck at her with -all his might, and when she put her shield to ward -the blow, lo! this was shattered altogether, and fell -in pieces on the plain. Next, as she was thus left -without defence, he smote her again, this time upon -the helmet; so that she fell from her horse, and -lay upon the plain, like to one that was dead. -When he saw her lying thus, he leapt from his -steed and unlaced her helmet, with intent to sever -her head from her body. But when he had unlaced -her helmet, lo! her face was discovered to him. -So fair it was, even though covered with blood and -sweat, that he stood amazed; it was as when a -traveller sees the face of the moon through a foggy -night. And at the sight, all the cruel purpose -departed out of his heart. So great was his pity -that he threw his sword from him, for, indeed, there -is no heart so hard but that the sight of beauty will -soften it.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_227">227</div> -<p>As he stood thus astonished, she recovered herself -from her swoon, and saw the knight standing -by her side without a weapon. Then she lifted -herself from the ground and flew upon him with -all her former rage. He, indeed, could but ward -off her blows with his shield, as well as he could. -And now, being without hope, he entreated her to -withhold her hand. “Not so,” said she, “till you -have yielded to me your shield in token of submission.” -Nor could he refuse so to do. He had -overcome her in fair fight, yet now was he himself -overcome by his own misdoing, for he had of his -own accord given up his sword, and so lost that -which he had attained. Then she struck him on -the shoulder with the flat of her sword, in token -that he was from henceforth her subject. As for -the unhappy Sir Turpine, he was indeed born under -an unlucky star, for they took him back to the place -from which he had escaped, and there hanged him -shamefully by the heels. Talus they could not -take, for all that they sought to lay hands upon -him. He laid about him so unmercifully with his -flail, that they were right glad to let him escape. -Many did he wound and some he slew; the rest he -put into great fear. Yet he would not seek to -rescue his lord. “Nay,” said he to himself, “Sir -Artegall has yielded himself of his own accord, and -I must e’en let him be.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_228">228</div> -<p>Queen Radigund took the knight who had thus -made himself her subject, and despoiled him of all -his arms and armour, and put upon him woman’s -clothing, with a white apron in place of a breast-plate. -Having thus arrayed him, she brought him -into a great chamber, on the walls of which were -many memorials of other knights whom she had -dealt with in the same fashion. His arms and -armour she caused to be hung up among these, and -his sword, lest it should work mischief to her, she -broke in twain. When he was come into this place, -he saw sitting there many brave knights whose -names he knew right well, bound all of them to -obey the amazon’s law, and spinning and carding -wool. This they did under constraint, for they were -bound to finish their task by the appointed time, -nothing being given them whereon to dine or sup -but what they could earn by this woman’s work. -The queen set him in the lowest place of all, and -put a distaff into his hands, and bade him spin flax -and tow. Truly it is the hardest of all lots to be -a woman’s slave! But he consented to her will, -saying to himself: “She vanquished me in battle, -and I must abide by my own word.”</p> -<p>After a while the queen began to feel the beginning -of love for the knight. Long time she -strove against it, thinking shame to be so overcome; -but finding that her passion was not to be -put away, she sent for the same Clarin, whom she -had before made her messenger, and said to her: -“Clarin, you see that fairy knight, who has been -made my subject, not by my valour, but by his own -honourable mind. He gave me my life, when it -was lost; why should he suffer there in this cruel -bondage? Why should I recompense him with ill -for so good a deed? I would fain give him his -freedom, yet in such a fashion that in giving it to -him, I may win his free goodwill. I would loose -him, and yet have him still bound to me, not with -the bonds of violence and compulsion, but of benevolence -and love. Now if you can by any means -win him to such a mood, but without discovering, -mark you well, my thought, you will win a goodly -reward from him, and have me also greatly beholden -to you. And now, that you may be able to pass -freely to and fro, I give you this ring as a token to -Eumenias”—this was the keeper of the knights’ -prison. “Go then, my Clarin; use to the best all -thy wits, employing both enticing looks and fair -speeches.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_229">229</div> -<p>So Clarin, promising that she would use her -best endeavour to win Sir Artegall to such thoughts -as her lady desired, departed on her errand. She -had recourse to all the arts she knew to win his -favourable regard, and one day she said to him: -“Sir Knight, you have had but an evil fortune; -you sit drowned in despair, and yet you might -raise yourself, if you were but willing, to something -better.”</p> -<p>He was in doubt what this speech might mean, -and so made answer: “Fair damsel, that you regard -me with compassion is in itself a kindness for which -I am in your debt. But you must know that a -brave heart bears with equal courage fair weather -and foul, frowns of ill fortune or smiles of prosperity. -At this moment my life is overcast with cloud, yet -I hope for sunshine to come.”</p> -<p>“Yea,” answered the maiden, “and what say -you if you should see an occasion ready to your -hand for entering on better things?”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_230">230</div> -<p>“Truly,” answered Sir Artegall, “I count him -to be unworthy of good fortune who should not -promptly take such occasion, so that it come within -his reach.”</p> -<p>Then said Clarin: “Why do you not set about -to win your liberty by seeking the favour of the -queen? ’Tis true that she has passed her days in -war, yet she is not born of tigers or bears. She -scorns the love of men, yet she does not forget that -she is herself of the kindred of man.”</p> -<p>To this Sir Artegall replied: “Believe me, fair -damsel, that not from obstinacy or disdain have I -neglected to seek her favour. ’Tis lack of means -that has kept me back from so doing; and if you -can in any way supply this lack, then shall I be -bound to you for ever.”</p> -<p>“This fish bites at the bait,” said the damsel to -herself, “but it is not yet surely caught.” But even -while she spoke, she herself, foolish maiden that -she was, was caught herself. For, as a fisher who, -while he seeks for the prey, falls into the brook, so -Clarin, seeking to serve her mistress’s ends, conceived -a great pity for this captive knight, and from -pity it is but a short journey to love. But her love -she durst not tell, neither to the knight, lest haply -she should be disdained, nor to anyone else, lest -that by any means it should come to the knowledge -of the queen, for that she knew would mean -a sure sentence of death. Therefore she kept the -matter in her heart, watching for such occasion as -might arise.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_231">231</div> -<p>Queen Radigund, growing impatient of the -delay, bade her unfold the truth. “How have you -fared?” she said, “What is the temper of the -man? Has captivity brought him to a more -humble mind?”</p> -<p>“Not so,” said Clarin; “he is as stern and -obstinate as ever. He scorns all offers and conditions; -he would sooner die—so he declares—than -look with any favour on those who have done -him so great a wrong. This in brief is his resolve; -in truth these are his very words: ‘My body may -be thrall to the queen, but my heart is free.’”</p> -<p>When she heard these words the queen fell into -a mighty rage. But coming to herself, and perceiving -that anger would profit her nothing, she -said to her minister: “Clarin, what remains for us -to do? It were a shame to have laboured in vain, -and still more a shame to sit down content when -this fellow flouts us in such fashion. Nevertheless, -that his guilt may be seen to be the greater, and my -grace the more admirable, I will bear with this folly -of his till you shall have made another trial of him. -And you I charge to leave nothing that can be -done or said to work upon him. Leave nothing -unpromised that may help to persuade him. Tell -him that he shall have life, freedom, grace, and -store of gifts, for by gifts even the hearts of gods -are touched. And to these promises add all your -arts and woman’s wiles. And if your arts avail -nothing, then let him feel the weight of your hand. -Diminish his victuals; maybe he is too proudly -fed; put more labour upon him, and with harder -conditions; let him lodge less softly, lying upon -straw; do aught that may abate his courage and -his pride; put a chain of cold iron upon him, and -deny him all that he may desire. And when you -have done all this, tell me how he bears himself. -If need be, I will deal with him, not as a lover, but -as a rebel.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_232">232</div> -<p>All this Clarin heard, and made pretence to -fulfil her lady’s commands. But her mind was -turned to quite another thing, that is to say, to play -her mistress false, and to gain the knight’s love for -herself. To him therefore she made as great a -show of goodwill as she could, telling him that she -was making suit for him to the queen, that she -should set him at liberty, but that she could not -persuade her.</p> -<p>“The more I entreat her,” she said, “the sterner -and the harsher she is.” Then from the knight -she would go to the queen and say: “The more -grace I show, the more haughty and unbending is -he.” As for Sir Artegall, he spoke the woman fair, -but never did he depart from his loyalty to his own -fair lady.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_233">233</div> -<h2 id="c31"><span class="h2line1">CHAPTER XXXI</span> -<br /><span class="h2line2">HOW SIR ARTEGALL WAS DELIVERED</span></h2> -<p>While Sir Artegall lay thus in evil plight -under the tyranny of Queen Radigund, the -Lady Britomart was in no small distress of mind. -For now the latest date that had been fixed for his -return was long past, and yet no tidings of him had -come. Sometimes she thought that some mishap -had befallen him in his adventure, and sometimes -that his false foe had entrapped him, and sometimes—and -this was the most grievous fear of all—that -he had bestowed his love upon another. She -knew no ill of him, nor ever had heard any; yet -could she not forbear to think ill. Now she blamed -herself, and now she condemned him as being -faithless and untrue. Then again she would think -to herself: “Surely I have miscounted the time,” -and she reckoned the days and weeks and months -again; and, indeed, the days were as weeks and -the weeks were as months. Also she considered -within herself what she should do; should she send -someone to search for him, and yet who could go -on such an errand but herself? She could not rest -in her dwelling, no place could please her; yet that -which displeased her least was a certain window -which looked towards the west, for it was from the -west that Sir Artegall was due to come. It -chanced then that as she sat at this same window -on a certain day she saw someone approaching at -full speed. No sooner did she see him, though -she could not discern his face, than she said to -herself, “This is someone from my love.” And -truly, when he came nearer, she perceived that it -was Sir Artegall’s groom Talus. The sight filled -her heart both with hopes and with fears; nor -could she stay in her place, but ran forth to meet -him, crying, “Where is your lord? Is he far -from here? Has he lost or has he won?”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_234">234</div> -<p>Talus, albeit he was made of iron, and was -without feeling of pain and sorrow, yet was conscious -within himself that his news was ill, and -stood silent as if he would rather that she should -discern his tidings than that he should declare -them. Then she said: “Take courage, Talus; -tell me what you have to tell, be it good or be -it bad.”</p> -<p>Then he answered: “If I must tell my evil -tidings, so be it. My lord lies in wretched -bondage.”</p> -<p>“How came that to pass?” said Britomart; -“did the tyrant, his enemy, vanquish him?”</p> -<p>“Not so,” quoth Talus, “no tyrant man did -vanquish him, but a tyrant woman.” Great was -the rage of Britomart when she heard these words.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_235">235</div> -<p>“And you are not ashamed, evil newsmonger, -to come here with such tidings of your lord’s -disgrace?” And she turned her back upon him, -seeking her own chamber; and there with much -self-torturing she spent many weary hours.</p> -<p>The next day she sought out Talus again, and -being now in a milder mood, she said: “Tell me -now plainly how came Sir Artegall into this captivity. -Does he woo this tyrant lady?”</p> -<p>“Ah! madam!” answered Talus, “he is in no -state to woo; he lies in thraldom, weak and wan; -and yet, for the truth must be told, it was by his -own doing that he came into this state.”</p> -<p>Then Britomart’s anger was kindled again. -“Are you not leagued together to deceive me? -You say that he came into this bondage of his -own accord; is he not then false?”</p> -<p>Then Talus unfolded the whole story of how -Sir Artegall fought, and how he was vanquished, -not by the strength of his adversary, but by his -own compassion. When Britomart heard this same -story, she was, so to speak, torn asunder by anger -and grief, nor would anything content her but that -she must straightway put on her armour, mount -her horse, and ride forth to deliver Sir Artegall, -Talus being her guide. After they had ridden for -a space they came upon a knight who was riding -slowly across the plain, a man well stricken in -years, and of a very modest and peaceable bearing. -He saluted Britomart right courteously, and she, -though in her sad mood she would sooner have -remained without speech, answered him pleasantly. -Then he began to talk of many things, and she, -though wholly occupied in her mind with one -matter, to wit, the deliverance of Sir Artegall -from his prison, made such replies as were suitable. -After some converse he said: “Friend, night is -about to fall, and there are tokens of rain in the -heavens; will you not lodge with me at my house?” -And Britomart, seeing that the day was far spent, -consented.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_236">236</div> -<p>They rode therefore to the knight’s dwelling, -which was, indeed, hard by. There he most -hospitably entertained them, both with good cheer -and pleasant conversation. When the hour of rest -came, Britomart was conducted to the bower where -she should sleep. There she found grooms who -offered to undress her, but she would not doff her -arms for all her host’s entreaties. “Nay,” she -said, “I have vowed a vow that I will not take -off these arms till I have taken vengeance for a -great wrong that has been done to me.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_237">237</div> -<p>When she made this answer, it might have been -perceived that her host was somewhat troubled. -Nevertheless he took his leave right courteously, -and departed. Britomart watched all the night; if -sleep seemed about to settle for a moment on her -eyes, she shook it off with a right resolute will. -And Talus watched also; outside her door did he -lie in no small trouble of mind, as a dog that keeps -guard over his master’s chamber. So night passed, -but about the dawn, when the cock commonly crows -for the first time, Britomart perceived that the bed -in her chamber began to sink through the floor, -and that after awhile it was raised again. And -while she waited to see what this might mean, -though indeed it was clear that it meant treachery -of some sort, there came two knights to her chamber -door, with a rabble rout of followers after them. -But these came on a vain errand. Talus, having -his iron flail ready to his hand, laid about him with -a right goodwill. They fled before him, both -knights and the rabble also. Some he struck to -the ground as they fled, and others as they strove -to hide themselves in dark corners of the house.</p> -<p>Now the true story of the matter is this. This -knight, who seemed so gentle and courteous, was -one Dolon, a man of great cunning and of an evil -mind. He had been a knight in his youth, yet had -achieved no honour; only by his craft he had undone -many men who were better than himself. -Three sons he had, of the same temper as himself, -full of fraud and guile. One of these, the eldest in -birth, Guizor by name, had been slain by Sir -Artegall in battle, not without his deserving, for he -had sought to compass some treachery. And now -this Dolon would have taken vengeance for this -injury. Britomart he took for Sir Artegall, chiefly -by reason of the page Talus, with the iron flail, -whom he had seen in his company. The next day, -so soon as it was light, Britomart departed. And -when the two knights would have stayed her going, -and this on the bridge where Artegall had fought -Pollenté, she vanquished them. And one she -caught up in her arms, and carrying him to the -bridge end, cast him into the water, where he -perished miserably.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_238">238</div> -<p>After journeying awhile, Britomart, with Talus -her guide, came to the city of Queen Radigund. -The queen, when she was advised of her coming, -was greatly rejoiced, for she had not had the great -joy of battle for many days, and it always pleased -her greatly to have experience of a new adversary. -She commanded that a pavilion should be set up -outside the city gate for the new-comer. There -Britomart rested that night, Talus keeping watch, -as was his wont, at the door. The townsfolk also -kept watch upon the walls. At sunrise the queen -caused a trumpet to be blown to warn the stranger -that the hour of battle was come. Such warning -Britomart needed not, for she had slept but ill, so -troubled was she in heart with jealousy and anger. -Then the two made ready for the combat. But -first the queen would have her adversary bind -herself to perpetual service if the fortune of the day -should go against her.</p> -<p>But Britomart cried: “I will have no such conditions, -no terms will I accept but such as are -prescribed by the laws of chivalry!” Then the -trumpets sounded again, and the two ran at each -other with great fury. It seemed to them who -looked on that both the one and the other had forgotten -all their skill in arms, so possessed were they -with rage. They sought not to ward off blows, but -only to strike. And, indeed, none could have said -who struck the harder.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_239">239</div> -<p>At last Radigund, thinking that she had her -adversary at a disadvantage, dealt her a blow with -all her might, saying at the same time: “You love -this man; here then is a token of your love, which -you may show him; for what could be a surer proof -than to die for him?”</p> -<p>But Britomart answered: “Have done with -idle words about my love,” and though she was -sorely wounded by the stroke, for the blade, breaking -through the shoulder-plate of her armour, bit to -the bone, she gave in return even more than she -had received. The sharpness of the pain gave a -new force to her arm, and she struck the queen so -fierce a blow on the head that it broke through her -helmet and laid her senseless on the ground. Nor -did Britomart wait for her adversary to recover -herself; but, urged by injured love and pride, and the -fresh smarting of her wound, with one blow cleft -both helmet and head. When her guards perceived -this dreadful sight, they fled headlong to the -city, but did not so escape, for Talus, taking up his -flail, entered at the gate along with the rout of -fugitives, and dealt death in every direction. Small -need had they, I ween, of a physician on whom -one of his strokes had lighted. Verily he had -destroyed them all, but that the heart of Britomart -was moved to see such great slaughter.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_240">240</div> -<p>“Hold your hand,” she cried; “it is enough!” -Then she commanded that someone should lead her -to the prison where Sir Artegall was kept in bonds. -Much was she moved to see these knights in their -womanish attire, plying distaff and spindle. But -when she espied Sir Artegall himself, and saw how -pale and wan and wasted he was, her heart was -well-nigh broken in her breast. Bitterly did she -repent of her unkind suspicions: this was no -lover of women whom she saw before her in so -sad a plight!</p> -<p>Then she bade take him to a chamber where he -might put off these uncomely garments, and put on -the apparel that belonged to a knight, and take -again his arms and armour, of which there was a -great store in the place. Not a little rejoiced was -she when she saw how he became again like to -the knight whom she had seen long since in the -magic mirror.</p> -<p>For a while they tarried in the city, for he -needed to rest, and she had wounds which it was -well to heal. And she, being now queen of the -land in the place of the dead Radigund, wholly -changed the form of the commonwealth. She did -away with this same monstrous rule of women, and -ordered all things according to the ordering of -nature, and showed such justice and wisdom that -the people gladly made submission to her government. -The knights whom she found in the prison-house -she set free, and made them rulers in the -city, having first caused them to take an oath to be -loyal to Sir Artegall. There was but one thing -that troubled her: to wit, that her lover must now -proceed on the errand to which he was bound.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_241">241</div> -<p>This he did in not many days’ time, Talus -travelling with him as before. After a while they saw -a damsel on a palfrey, flying as fast as she could, and -two knights pursuing her also at their utmost speed; -they saw also how another knight was riding after -these two. Each was intent on his own business, -the two knights on chasing the damsel, the single -knight on chasing the two, the damsel seeking if, -by any means, she could escape. But when she -saw Sir Artegall, being at her wits’ end, she turned -her course towards him, hoping that he might give -her help. The foremost of her pursuers—pagan -knights both of them—continued his course, and -with his spear in rest charged Sir Artegall. But -there he had met more than his match; the Christian -was both stronger and more skilful in arms, and -drove him out of the saddle full two spears’ length, -and it so chanced that in falling he lighted on his -head, and so was killed outright.</p> -<p>Meanwhile his companion had fared as ill, for -the single knight overtaking him, had compelled -him to stand and do battle, in which battle he was -defeated and slain. This done, he still followed, -and taking Sir Artegall for the other pagan, charged -him at full tilt. They met with a great crash, and -both their spears were broken, and though neither -was driven from his saddle, yet they tottered as two -towers which an earthquake makes to rock. But -when they drew their swords to renew the combat, -the damsel, seeing that her two friends were like to -come to as ill an end as had her two foes, ran up, -crying out: “Oh, sirs, stay your hands till I shall -tell you how the matter stands. ’Tis I that have -been wronged, and you have brought me help, -slaying these two pagans who were pursuing me. -These lie dead upon the ground; what quarrel have -you against each other? If there be still any -wrongdoer or cause of trouble, truly it is I.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_242">242</div> -<p>When the two heard these words, they held -their hands, and, lifting up the visors of their -helmets, looked each in the other’s face. And when -Sir Artegall saw the last comer, who was no other -than Prince Arthur, he was sure that he was a very -noble knight, and said: “Pardon me, fair sir, that -I have erred in lifting my hand against you. I will -make what amends you will.”</p> -<p>“Talk not of amends,” answered the prince; “I -was in equal error, taking you for this dead pagan.” -So they swore friendship, and made a covenant of -mutual help.</p> -<p>Then said Sir Artegall, “Tell me, sir, who were -these knights that have come by this bad end?”</p> -<p>“That I know not,” answered the prince, “but -know that this damsel was in distress, and that I -sought to succour her. But doubtless she herself will -unfold the whole matter to us.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_243">243</div> -<p>Then the damsel told her story. “Know, sirs,” -she said, “that I serve a maiden queen of these -parts, Mercilla by name, a lady known far and wide, -and envied also, for her prosperity and her goodness. -Enemies she has, and chief among these is -a pagan prince, who is bent on overthrowing her -kingdom, yea, verily, and on slaying her sacred -self. To this wickedness he is stirred up by his -evil wife, Adikia<a class="fn" id="fr_2" href="#fn_2">[2]</a> -by name. ’Tis she who, trusting -in her power, moves him to all kinds of wrong. -Now my liege lady, being desirous of peace, and -willing for sake of it to give up something of her -just right, sent me to make a treaty with this same -Adikia, so that there might be quietness in the -land. Now, as you know, it has been a custom of -all time that such messengers have liberty to come -and go without hindrance or harm. But this evil -woman, without any offence given on my part, -broke forth in railing upon me, and not only this, -but thrust me from her door as if I were a dog. -Yea, and when I had departed, she sent these two -knights after me to take me prisoner. To you, -therefore, for myself and for the queen, whose messenger -I am, I render you most hearty thanks.”</p> -<p>When they had heard the damsel’s story, the -two knights, Sir Artegall and Prince Arthur, -counselled together what should be done in this -matter. Of which consultation the conclusion was -that they should punish those who were guilty of -this wrongdoing, that is to say the sultan and his -wife and the knights who lent themselves to do -their evil will. Further, they concluded to carry -out this purpose in the way now to be described. -Sir Artegall should disguise himself in the accoutrements -of one of the dead pagan knights, and should -take with him the damsel to the sultan’s court, -making as though she was his prisoner.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_244">244</div> -<p>Sir Artegall therefore having donned the armour -of one of the two knights, took the damsel with him, -as being a prisoner, and so came to the sultan’s -court. And the sultan’s wife, who chanced to be -looking from the window, saw them, and did not -doubt but that her errand had been performed, and -sent a page who would show the knight what he -should do. The page therefore brought them to -the place appointed, but when he would have eased -Sir Artegall of his armour, the knight refused, for -he feared to be discovered.</p> -<p>Meanwhile Prince Arthur, coming to the gate of -the city, sent to the sultan this message: “I demand -that there be delivered to me the Lady Samient”—this -was the damsel’s name—“being the ambassador -of Queen Mercilla, whom you wrongfully detain in -custody.”</p> -<p>When the sultan heard this message, he was -filled with anger, and commanded that his armour -should be brought. This he straightway put on, -and mounted his chariot. This same was armed in -dreadful fashion with iron hooks and scythes, and was -drawn by savage horses, whom he was wont to feed -on the flesh of men. The poor wretches whom in -his cruelty he slew, he was wont to give when they -were but half dead to these beasts. In this guise -he came forth from the city gates, where he found -Prince Arthur awaiting him, mounted on his steed, -with Talus standing at his stirrup.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_245">245</div> -<p>The sultan drove straight at his adversary, -thinking to overthrow him by the rush of his -chariot, and that his horses would trample him -in the dust. But the prince perceiving his design, -withdrew himself a pace, and so escaped the danger. -Nor was he hurt by the dart which the sultan cast -at him as he passed; this also he avoided, and it was -well that he did so, else of a certainty it had pierced -either him or his horse from side to side. But -when Prince Arthur sought to approach the sultan, -the horses carried the chariot out of his reach, so -swift of foot were they. On the other hand, the -sultan, having a store of darts ready to his hand in -the chariot, cast them at the prince, and with one -of them pierced the prince’s cuirass, and made a -grievous wound in his side. So did the combat rage -between these two, the prince being at this disadvantage -also, that his horse could not endure the -look of the sultan’s horses, so fierce and fiery of -aspect were they. At the last, finding that all other -means were of no avail, he drew the covering from -his shield—a thing which he was not wont to do -save in the last extremity—and held it so that the -light shining from it fell full on the eyes of the -sultan’s horses. As a flash of lightning did it fall -upon them, and they straightway turned and fled. -Nor could the sultan stay their flight. The reins -were of no avail; they heeded them not; and when -he called to them, they would not hear. Over -hill and dale they carried him, he vainly dragging -at the reins, and cursing aloud; while the chariot, -swaying from side to side, tossed him to and fro. -Still the prince followed close behind, but still -found no opportunity to strike. Nor, indeed, had -he need, for coming to some rocky ground, the -horses overset the chariot, and the sultan was torn -in pieces by his own contrivance of scythes and -hooks. Then the prince took up his shield and -armour from where they lay, sorely bent and -broken, upon the ground. These he carried back -to the city, and hanged them on a tree before the -palace door. When the wicked wife saw what had -happened, she ran down from her chamber like to -one mad, saying to herself, “I will be avenged on -that damsel who has brought upon me all this -trouble.” And she ran, knife in hand, to the place -where she had been put. But Sir Artegall stayed -her hand. And she, being made yet more furious, -ran forth into the woods, and there abode, in the -form—so some men said—of a tigress. Sir Artegall -meanwhile vanquished the sultan’s knights, and -established a new order in the city.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_247">247</div> -<h2 id="c32"><span class="h2line1">CHAPTER XXXII</span> -<br /><span class="h2line2">OF THE KNAVE MALENGIN</span></h2> -<p>The two knights delivered the city, when they -had ordered it anew, to the Lady Samient, to -hold for Queen Mercilla. This done, they would -have departed on their own business, but Samient -was not content that they should depart without -seeing the queen, and this, overborne by her -entreaties, they consented to do. As they journeyed, -the damsel said to them: “There abides in -this region a very sturdy villain, who is wont to rob -all the country round about; and carries the spoil -to a rock which he makes his dwelling, and to this -place no man can get, so hard of access is it. Also -he is marvellously light of hand and nimble of foot, -smooth of face, and so subtle in his talk that he can -deceive well-nigh anyone.”</p> -<p>When the two knights heard this tale, they -desired with one accord that the damsel should take -them to the place where this villain abode.</p> -<p>“That would I willingly do,” said she, “only -that the going thither would hinder your journey -to Queen Mercilla.”</p> -<p>“Let not that stay you,” said the prince, and -Sir Artegall gave also his consent.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_248">248</div> -<p>So they travelled onwards together. After a -while the damsel said to the knights: “We are -close to the place!” Then Sir Artegall and -Prince Arthur consulted together what was best -to be done. They agreed that the damsel should -sit by the robber’s cave, and raise a great uproar, -and that when he should come to see what was -the cause of the disturbance, they should set upon -him, and hinder his return. So the Lady Samient -went to the cave, and there threw herself upon -the ground, and then made a great uproar, with -much wailing and many cries of grief. When -the villain heard it he came forth from his den, -thinking that something had come in his way. -A dreadful creature he was to see, with hollow -eyes, and long curling hair which fell over his -shoulders, and a most uncouth and ragged garment. -In his hand he carried a long staff with -iron hooks at the end of it, and on his back he -bore a wide net. This he used, not for fishing -in the brook, but to catch such prey as he desired -on the dry land, taking them unawares.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_249">249</div> -<p>When the damsel saw this strange creature -standing close by her she was not a little dismayed, -and cried out for help in good earnest. -But he, with guileful words, would have persuaded -her that she had nothing to fear; and -then, while she listened, as she could scarce refrain -from doing, suddenly he threw his net about -her, and lifting her from the ground ran with -her to his cave. But when, as he came near -to the cave mouth, he saw the two knights barring -the way, he threw down on the ground his -net with its burden, and fled away: like to a -wild goat did he leap from rock to rock, and he -ran along the cliff-side without fear, into places -where Sir Artegall, for all his courage, durst not -follow him. So the knight sent his iron man, -Talus, to follow him. And when the knave saw -that the new-comer was not less swift of foot -than he was himself, and did not grow weary or -scant of breath, then he left running on the hills -and came down again to the plain. And here -he had recourse to a new device, changing himself -into various shapes. First he made himself -into a fox, but Talus was not slow to hunt him -as a fox is hunted; then into a bush, but the -iron man beat the bush with his flail; and from -the bush he made himself into a bird, but Talus -threw stones at the bird, and with so sure an -aim that he soon brought it to the ground, as if -it had been itself a stone. This Talus took from -the ground and brought it to the knights, and -gave it to Sir Artegall, saying at the same time: -“Take it, Sir Knight, but beware! Hold it -fast!” And lo! even while he held it fast, it -was changed into a hedgehog, and pricked the -knight’s hand so sorely that he threw it away. -And the villain returned to his own shape and -would have fled. But when Talus perceived it, -he followed and overtook him and led him back. -Then did he change himself into a snake; but -this Talus struck so heavily with his iron flail -that he broke all his bones, and left him dead -for the fowls of the air to devour.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_250">250</div> -<p>After this they came to the palace of Queen -Mercilla, as fair and noble a palace as was ever -seen upon the earth. The porch stood open day -and night, so that all comers might enter in. -But a warder of giant form sat there, to keep -from entering all that harboured guile or malice, -and such as with flattery and dissembling work such -harm in the courts of kings. The warder’s name was -Awe. Such as were permitted to pass in were marshalled -in the hall by another warder, whose name -was Order. There they saw many noteworthy -things, and chief of all the Queen Mercilla herself, -where she sat on her throne, with a sceptre -in her hand, a pledge of peace and clemency. -And under her feet lay a great lion, very fierce -of nature, but wholly tamed in that presence. So -then the two did obeisance, and stood aside while -the queen judged affairs of state, and ministered -justice and equity to her people. Of all these -affairs the chiefest was the trial of a great lady -who stood before the throne, most fair and royally -arrayed. Many accusations were brought against -this lady, the prosecutor being one Zeal. Nor -could this be wondered at, for this great lady was -no other than the false Duessa. It was surely -proved against her that she had deceived knights, -and brought them to shame, and even to death; -also that she had wrought upon two vain knights, -Blandamour and Paridell, to devise hostility against -Queen Mercilla herself. Sir Artegall was so moved -by these accusations that, being a lover of justice, -he was firm in taking the contrary part against -her. Prince Arthur, on the other hand, was not -a little touched by the pleadings on her behalf. -When all had been heard on either side, Queen -Mercilla gave judgment, and although Duessa’s -guilt was clear beyond all doubt, yet she, being true -to name and nature, did not adjudge the extreme -penalty of death, but ordered that she should be -so kept as not to do any mischief more.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_252">252</div> -<h2 id="c33"><span class="h2line1">CHAPTER XXXIII</span> -<br /><span class="h2line2">OF THE LADY BELGÉ</span></h2> -<p>While the two knights tarried at the court -of Queen Mercilla, being entertained by her -in the most liberal fashion, there came two youths -from a foreign land, praying for help for their -mother, the Lady Belgé. It was a piteous story -that they told before the Queen Mercilla and all -the knights and ladies of her court. The Lady -Belgé had been in former days among the most -fortunate of women. She had to husband a most -worthy and noble prince, of wide dominions and -great wealth; she had also a very fair progeny, -even seventeen sons, fair children, and of great -promise. Anyone who saw them in those days -would surely have said that not Niobé herself, -before she moved the wrath of Apollo and Diana, -was more blessed in her progeny. Now the beginning -of troubles to this honourable lady was that -her husband died in his prime, before any of his -children had come to such an age that they could -fill his place. And because the times were ill-suited -to a woman’s rule, she was constrained to -look for someone who should give her help and -protection. Now there was in those parts a -monstrous creature, Geryoneo by name, son of -that Geryon who was slain by Hercules. He -was terrible to look upon, and marvellously strong, -for he had three bodies joined in one, the legs and -arms of three men, as it were, to help him in the -fighting. He, feigning himself to be just and kind, -proffered his service to the Lady Belgé while she -was yet in the first trouble of her widowhood, -undertaking to defend her against all enemies both -from within and from without. This proffer she -gladly accepted, and he, for a time, kept the promise -which he had made well and loyally. But -having established himself in the country, and -Belgé having given into his hands all the power, -he began to bear himself most cruelly. Many -wrongs did he do to this most unhappy lady, but -of all the wrongs the worst was this, that he took -of her children, one after another, to offer up in -sacrifice to a horrible idol which he had made of his -father Geryon. Twelve had he taken, one by one, -so that now there were left to the unhappy mother -but five only. And now, all other hope having -been lost, she bethought her of the gracious Queen -Mercilla, and sent her two eldest sons to entreat -her help.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_253">253</div> -<p>When they had told their story there was for -a while silence in the court, no one caring to take -this adventure upon himself. And when Prince -Arthur saw that no one offered himself, he stood -forth and said: “Grant me leave, gracious queen, -to succour this distressed lady!”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_254">254</div> -<p>“Readily do I grant it,” said the queen. Thereupon -he began straightway to prepare himself for -his journey, for he would not lose time; even on -the morrow would he start on this adventure. And -so it was. So soon as the next morning came the -prince set forth, not without gifts from the queen. -Sir Artegall he left to follow his own business, but -the two young sons of the Lady Belgé went with -him, guiding him on his way.</p> -<p>It was but a short journey to the place where -the Lady Belgé dwelt. The tyrant had shut her -out from the cities of her land, and from all the -pleasant spots; she had her abode in the midst -of marshes and fens, and was glad to find shelter -in them from the cruelty of her oppressor. In such -a dismal region did Prince Arthur find her, living -quite alone, for her children had left her, seeking -safety elsewhere. And she herself, when she -caught sight of a man clad in armour, made -ready to fly. But then, spying her own two sons, -she took heart, and looked up joyfully, for she -knew that the stranger was come to give her -help. Then she threw her arms round the necks -of the two lads as they knelt before her, crying, -“Oh, my sweet boys, now I seem to live again, so -joyful a thing is it to see you! Surely the sun -shines brighter than its wont, thanks to your -coming and to the presence of this noble knight.” -Then turning to Prince Arthur she said: “Noble -sir, who have taken all this trouble to help a -miserable woman, may heaven reward you for -your goodness. Reward have I none to give, for -all that is left to me is bare life, and that life so full -of misery that it is more like to a lingering death!”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_255">255</div> -<p>The prince was not a little moved at these -sorrowful words, and sought to comfort her. “Take -heart, dear lady,” he said, “for help is at hand, and -these, your troubles, will have an end. But now -come with me, and find some spot where you may -more conveniently dwell than in this miserable -place.”</p> -<p>“Ah sir,” she answered, “to what place shall I -go? The enemy dwells in my palaces, my cities -are sacked, my towers are levelled with the ground, -and what were abodes of men are fields where the -wild flowers grow. Only these marshes, the abode -of efts and frogs, are left to me.”</p> -<p>“Nay, good lady,” answered the prince, “think -better things than these. We will find some place -to harbour us. And if it yield not itself willingly, -then will we compel it; for all that your adversary -may do, we will purchase it with spear and shield; -and if not, then the open field shall give us welcome; -earth has a lodging for all its creatures.” -With such words did the prince encourage her, so -that she made ready to go with him.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_256">256</div> -<p>They set out therefore and came to a city which -once had been the Lady Belgé’s own, but had been -taken from her by her enemy. He had pulled -down its stately towers, closed its harbour, marred -the trade of its merchants, and brought its people -to poverty. And he had built a great fort from -which he dominated the place. For a while the -city had resisted his tyranny, but had now submitted -itself to him, so purchasing life, but losing -all else that is worth the having. Many things did -it suffer from his tyranny, but of all that it endured -the worst was this, that it was compelled to offer -sacrifices of human life to a hideous idol which the -tyrant had set up in a chapel which he had built -and adorned with costliest fittings of gold and -ivory. In this city he had put a strong garrison, -and in command of this garrison he had set a -seneschal, a very stalwart knight, who had vanquished -hitherto all the knights that had ventured -to come against him. He had vanquished them, -and when he had them in his power he had dealt -with them in the most shameful fashion.</p> -<div class="img" id="pic8"> -<img src="images/p_08_i275.jpg" alt="" width="710" height="1009" /> -<p class="caption"><span class="sc">Prince Arthur slaying the Seneschal.</span></p> -</div> -<div class="pb" id="Page_257">257</div> -<p>When the Lady Belgé knew the place, she said -to the prince, “Oh, sir, beware what you venture; -very many knights have been undone at this place.” -To this warning he paid no heed, but riding up -to the wall of the city, called to the watchmen, “I -challenge to single combat the seneschal of this -fortress.” Nor did the man delay to come, but -donning his armour, rode forth from the city gate. -The two combatants met in full tilt in the open -field, charging each the other with his spear full upon -the shield. But the spear of the seneschal made -no way, of so pure and well-refined a metal was -the prince’s shield. Broken was it into pieces -without number. But the spear of the prince -passed through the pagan’s cuirass, and made a -deep wound in his body, so that he fell from his -horse to the ground. There the prince left him to -lie, for he was dead almost before he touched the -ground, and rode straight to the fortress seeking -entrance. But as he rode he spied three knights -advancing towards him at the top speed of their horses. -All three charged him at once, all aiming their spears -at one place in his armour. But the prince did not -swerve from his straight seat in his saddle, no, not by a -hair’s-breadth. Firm as a tower he sat, and with -his spear he smote that one of the three who had -the middle place. Nor was his smiting in vain, -for he drove the spear through the shield and -through the side of the man, so that he fell dead -straight-way on his mother-earth. When his fellows -saw how easily he had been overcome, they fled -away as fast as their steeds could carry them. But -the prince followed yet faster, and overtook them -hard by the city gate. There, as they hasted to -enter, one hindered the other, and the prince slew -the hindmost. The third, striving to shut the gate -in his adversary’s face, was hindered by the carcase -of his companion, for it lay in the way. So he -fled into the hall which stood at the entering in -of the gate, hoping so to save himself, but the -prince following hard after him, slew him there. -When they that were left of the garrison saw how -it had gone with these three, they were sore afraid, -and fled in great terror, escaping by a postern door. -When the prince found no more to oppose him, -he returned to the Lady Belgé, and brought her -into the city, her two sons being with her. Many -thanks did she render for the good service which -he had done her.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_258">258</div> -<p>When the tidings of what had befallen the -seneschal and his knights came to the sultan, he -was carried out of himself with rage. Nevertheless -there was something of fear mingled with his -rage, for his conscience smote him with the thought -that the recompense of his evil deeds was at hand. -Nevertheless he comforted himself with this: “There -is but one of them, and he cannot always prevail.” -Therefore he armed himself: also he took with him -all the followers that he had, and marched to the -gate of the city, and there demanded entrance, -saying, “Yield me up this place straightway, for it -is my own.”</p> -<p>To this summons the prince made no answer, -but rode forth through the gate, ready armed for -battle. And being on the farther side he said, -“Are you he that has done all this wrong to the -noble Lady Belgé, exiling her from her own land -in such fashion that all the world cries shame -on you?”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_259">259</div> -<p>The tyrant answered, “I stand on my own -right; what I have done, that will I justify!” So -saying he ran furiously at the prince, beating upon -his armour with a great battle-axe as if he would -have chopped it in pieces. So fierce was his onset -that the prince was constrained to give place awhile. -So heavy were his strokes, one had thought they -would have riven a rock asunder. Also he had -the advantage of his threefold form. Three pairs -of hands he had, and he could shift his weapon -from one to the other as occasion served. So -crafty was he and so nimble, that an adversary -scarce could know where and when he should -defend himself. But the prince was his match -and more. Ever he watched the motion of his -hands, and parried the blow wherever it might -fall. And the tyrant, being thus baffled again and -again, roared for very rage, till, at the last, gathering -up all the strength of the three bodies into -one stroke, he thought to fell his adversary to the -ground. What had happened had the stroke come -upon the man none can say, but it lighted on the -horse and brought him to the ground. So now -the prince was constrained to fight on foot, and -the giant laughed aloud to think that he had him -at a disadvantage. But the fortune of the fight -went not so. Now this arm and now that did the -prince shear away with his good sword, and he -himself was sheltered safe under his shield; so -faultless was its temper, that no blow could shatter -it. And ever the giant was more and more carried -away by his rage, till, at the last, offering his whole -side to the attack of the prince, he was brought -to the ground a corpse, nay, three corpses, for all -were smitten to death by the one stroke, and lay -a bloody heap upon the plain.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_260">260</div> -<p>All this while the Lady Belgé watched the -fortunes of the fight from the city wall, with her -two sons standing on either hand. And when she -saw the issue she hastened to greet him; the -people of the city also, who had waited to see to -whom the victory should fall, hastened to do him -homage. Right glad were they to be rid of the -giant’s tyranny.</p> -<p>When the Lady Belgé had rendered the prince -her thanks, which he received with due modesty—“’Tis -not the strength nor courage of the doer,” -said he, “but the justice of his deed that should -be looked to”—she said: “O noble sir, you have -freed me from my chief foe; nevertheless there -remains yet something to be done. I pray you -not to stay your victorious arms till you have -rooted out all that remains of this vile brood, and -established my peace for ever.”</p> -<p>“Tell me, lady,” he answered, “what is this -that remains?”</p> -<p>“Sir,” she answered, “in this temple hard by -there is, as you have heard, a monstrous idol which -this tyrant set up, and to which he offered up sacrifices, -taking, alas! of my dear children, and many -children also of this people. Now in a cavern -underneath this idol there lies a most hideous -monster, which is wont to feed upon the flesh of -these sacrifices. No man, they say, has ever -looked upon its shape, so fearful is it, and lived.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_261">261</div> -<p>When the prince heard this he was occupied -with a great desire to deal with this same monster, -and demanded that the queen should show him -the place where it abode. “It is beneath the altar,” -said she; and he uncovered his shield, for the -need was such as to demand the help. The idol -he saw, but not the monster. Then he took his -sword, and with the naked blade he struck three -times, as if in defiance, and at the third time the -monster came from out its hiding-place. Hideous -it was to see, huge of size, as long, it seemed, as -the whole chapel, with the face of a woman and -the body of a dog; its claws were like to lion’s -claws; it had a tail with a deadly sting, and eagle’s -wings. Nevertheless, for all its strength, it was -dismayed to see the knight, and especially the -burning brightness of his shield. It would have -fled again to its hiding-place, but that the prince -would not suffer. Seeing, then, that it had to fight, -the monster flew at the prince’s shield, and caught -it with its claws, purposing either to break it, or, -if that might not be, to wrench it out of his hands. -Long did they struggle together, but at the last the -prince, with a stroke of his sword, shore off the -monster’s claws. Exceeding loud was the bellowing -which it made, seeming to make the whole -chapel rock to its foundations. Next it struck at -the prince with its great tail, and well-nigh brought -him to the ground; but before it could strike a -second blow, he had severed the last joint with -his sword. Last of all, it raised itself on its great -wings and flew at his head; doubtless it had hurt -him sore but that he held his shield between. -While he so warded off the attack, he struck full -at the monster’s belly, and so did it to death.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_262">262</div> -<p>Great was the rejoicing in the city when the -people knew that the creature which had oppressed -them so long was slain. They crowned the prince with -bays, and led him through the streets with solemn -pomp. After this he tarried awhile in the city, -establishing Queen Belgé on her throne, and setting -all things in due order, till the time came -when he had to depart for the completing of -his task.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_263">263</div> -<h2 id="c34"><span class="h2line1">CHAPTER XXXIV</span> -<br /><span class="h2line2">OF SIR ARTEGALL AND GRANTORTO</span></h2> -<p>While these things were doing, Sir Artegall -set forth to accomplish his task, having Talus -with him as before. After he had journeyed awhile, -he overtook an old man who was travelling alone, -and perceived that he was the same that had -attended the Lady Irene when she came to the -court of Queen Gloriana. He had been a famous -knight in his day, but had long since foregone the -use of arms, being stricken with age.</p> -<p>“Hail, Sir Sergis,” he cried, “there lives no -truer knight, I know; but tell me, what is your -errand? How fares the Lady Irene? How comes -it that you have left her? Is she in prison? -Does she yet live?”</p> -<p>“She lives,” answered the old knight, “but she -is in sore trouble. Trusting to your promise that -you would come to be her champion, and do battle -with him who was oppressing her, she came at -the appointed time, but found you not. And now -Grantorto has thrown her into prison, and has -appointed her a day, saying that if by that time -no champion shall appear to justify her and prove -her clear of the crimes of which she is accused, she -shall suffer death.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_264">264</div> -<p>Sir Artegall was sorely troubled to hear these -words, knowing that she suffered these things -through his default. “Verily,” he said, “I am to -blame for this fair maiden’s trouble, in that I -was not present to maintain her cause; but, as -you know, I was not wholly to blame for that -which hindered me. But tell me, how many days -has the tyrant allowed for the finding of this -champion?”</p> -<p>“Ten days he has given,” answered the old -knight, “but he knows that ’tis only a form, for he -guards all the coasts and approaches by which such -a champion might come. Indeed, he counts her to -be already dead.”</p> -<p>“Turn again, dear knight,” said Sir Artegall; -“surely, if I live, she shall have the champion -whom she needs within the appointed time!” So -they two went on together.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_265">265</div> -<p>As they rode they were aware of a great rout -of people who seemed to be looking on at some -affray. Coming nearer, they perceived a number -of rude fellows setting on a single knight, and -chasing him to and fro as if they would make him -prisoner. And he, on the other hand, sought to -make his way to a lady who might be seen in -another part of the field, holding up her hands and -praying for help. Wheresoever he turned they gave -way before him, yet ever returned and renewed -their attack, and, so great were their numbers, -pressed him sorely. So harassed was he with their -assailing, that he threw away his shield, a most -dishonourable thing for any knight to do, and one -that marks him with shame without end. When -Sir Artegall saw in what an evil plight the man -stood, he rode forward to his help, yet he was himself -so rudely assailed that he was constrained to -give place for a while. But when Talus began to -use his iron flail, then the multitude fled for their -lives, being scattered as the wind scatters the chaff -on a threshing-floor. When the knight had given -thanks for his deliverance, Sir Artegall said to -him:</p> -<p>“What is the occasion of this uproar? Who -are you, and who are these villains that attacked -you so furiously?”</p> -<p>The knight answered: “My name is Burbon; -I have won honour as a knight, and have been in -good repute till of late trouble has overtaken me. -This lady is by name Fleur de Lys; my love she -is, though of late she has scorned me; I know not -whether by her own choice or by constraint of -others. It cannot be denied that she was once -betrothed to me of her own free choice; but a -certain tyrant, whom men call Grantorto, won her -by gifts and lying words. This host of villains he -sent to take her away from me by open force.”</p> -<p>Then said Sir Artegall: “I see, Sir Knight, -that you have suffered grievous things, yet not -without fault of your own. But let us first rid you -of these villains. That done, we can make a settlement -of other matters.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_266">266</div> -<p>This then they did, Talus greatly helping with -his flail. But when they came to the lady, who had -been left by them who had taken her prisoner, they -were in no little doubt in what mind she was, for -she seemed to be neither glad nor sorry. One -thing was certain, to wit, that she was wondrous -fair and clad in splendid robes. When Sir Burbon, -lighting from his horse, ran to her and would have -clasped her in his arms, she turned from him in -high disdain. “Begone,” she cried, “and touch -me not.” Then said Sir Artegall: “Fair lady, -you cast a very great blemish on your beauty, if -you change a plighted faith. Is there aught on -earth so dear and so precious as faith and honour? -Love surely is dearer than life, and fame is more to -be desired than gold; but a plighted troth is more -to be honoured than even love or fame.” At this -rebuke the lady seemed much abashed, and Sir -Burbon, lifting her in his arms, set her on her steed, -nor did she repulse him. So they rode away, but -whether wholly agreed or not, no one can say.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_267">267</div> -<p>These matters being accomplished, Sir Artegall -with Sir Sergis pursued his journey till they came -to the seashore. There by good fortune they found -a ship ready equipped for sailing. This they hired, -that it should take them whither they would, and -embarking in it, found wind and weather serve -them so well that in a single day they came to the -land which they sought. There they saw drawn -up on the shore great hosts of men who should -hinder them from landing. But they did not for this -forego their purpose. So soon as they approached -so near to the shore that they could see the bottom -beneath the waves, Talus leapt from the ship into -the sea. The enemy sought to overwhelm him -with stones and darts, but he heeded them not at -all. Wading through the waves he came to the -shore, and once having put his foot upon the land, -chased all the multitude away, even as an eagle -chases a flock of doves. The way being thus made -clear, for there was now no one to hinder them, Sir -Artegall and the old knight landed, and made their -way to a city that was hard by. The tyrant -Grantorto, being made aware of their coming by -some of those that had fled from Talus, gathered a -host of men and came against them. But these -also did Talus discomfit with his flail, pursuing -them till Artegall himself bade him hold his hand, -for he would settle the quarrel in more orderly -fashion. Therefore he called a herald and bade -him take a message to King Grantorto to this -purport:</p> -<p>“I came not hither to fight against your people, -but to maintain the cause of the Lady Irene against -you in single combat. Do you therefore call your -people back that they may suffer no further damage, -but fix a time and place for us two to fight together -in the cause of the Lady Irene.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_268">268</div> -<p>That night he pitched his tent outside the city, -and would suffer none to come near him; only Sir -Sergis kept him company, and gave such services -as were needful. Now the Lady Irene had not -heard of the coming of Sir Artegall, and this being -the day on which, lacking a champion who should -defend her cause, it was appointed for her to die, -she arrayed herself in squalid garments, fit for such -occasion, and prepared herself for her doom. But -her mood was changed to joy when, coming to the -appointed place, she found Sir Artegall ready to do -battle for her.</p> -<p>And now, the lists having been made ready, -Grantorto came forth prepared for battle. He was -clad in armour of iron, with a steel cap, rusty brown -in colour, on his head, and in his hand he carried a -huge pole-axe. He was of mighty stature, standing -up as a giant among other men, and hideous of -aspect. Very expert in arms was he, and of great -strength; no man had ever stood against him in -fight and held his own.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_269">269</div> -<p>Then the trumpets sounded and the two met. -Fast and furiously did Grantorto rain his blows -upon his adversary. This was his manner of -fighting, to wit, to overbear his foe by the fierceness -of his attack, giving him no respite or breathing-time. -But of this Sir Artegall was well aware, and -bore himself accordingly. It was as when a sailor -sees a storm approaching and strikes his sails and -loosens his main-sheet. So did Sir Artegall stoop -his head, shunning the great shower of blows. -Small shame it is to stoop if a man shall thereafter -raise his head the higher. For a time, indeed, it -might seem that the tyrant would prevail, so heavy -was the shower of blows that he poured upon him, -and so many the wounds which the great pole-axe -made even through his armour. But ere long the -occasion came for which the knight had waited. -When the tyrant raised his arm high to strike what -should be, he hoped, a mortal blow, Sir Artegall -smote under his guard and drove his sword deep -into his flank, so that the blood gushed forth in -a great stream. Meanwhile the blow of the pole-axe -had fallen, and, despite the shield which the -knight had raised to defend his head, had bitten so deep -that the giant could by no means loose it again. Then -Sir Artegall let go his shield, and struck Grantorto -on the head with such strength that he brought -him to the ground, and, as he lay, with yet another -stroke severed his head from his body.</p> -<p>Then all the people, glad to be rid of the -tyrant, joyfully hastened to pay their homage to -Queen Irene. So she was established on her -throne. Sir Artegall tarried awhile to order all -things in peace and justice, Talus helping much in -the seeking out and punishment of offenders.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_270">270</div> -<h2 id="c35"><span class="h2line1">CHAPTER XXXV</span> -<br /><span class="h2line2">OF SIR CALIDORE AND THE LADY BRIANA</span></h2> -<p>As Sir Artegall was returning from his latest -enterprise, he met a certain Sir Calidore, who -was in high repute among the knights and dames of -Fairyland for his courtesy and honesty. These -two had been friends in old time, and now were -right glad to meet.</p> -<p>“Hail, noble sir,” said Sir Calidore, “tell me, -I pray you, how you have prospered in your -enterprise.”</p> -<p>And when the other had unfolded the whole -matter in order, what hindrances he had encountered, -and what success he had achieved in the end, -“Happy man,” he said, “that have accomplished -so great an enterprise! You are at the end of -your labours, but I am but beginning mine, nor do -I know where to begin; the way is all untried. I -know not what dangers await me, nor what provision -I must make.”</p> -<p>“What, then, is this enterprise of yours?” -said Sir Artegall.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_271">271</div> -<p>“I pursue,” answered the other, “the Blatant -Beast, a monster that, having been nurtured in the -regions below, has now come forth on the earth to -be the plague and bane of men. My task is to -follow him, if need be, all over the world, till I can -destroy him.”</p> -<p>“Such a creature I myself saw,” said Sir Artegall, -“after that I left the Savage Island. It -seemed to have full a thousand tongues, and with -all of these it bayed and barked at me; I heeded -him not, and this seemed to move him to still -greater rage.”</p> -<p>“Doubtless,” answered Sir Calidore, “that is -the monster which I follow.”</p> -<p>“Go on and prosper,” said Sir Artegall; and so -they parted in all friendship and amity.</p> -<p>After Sir Calidore had travelled a mile or so, -he came upon a squire, a comely youth to behold, -whom his enemies had bound to a tree. The same -loudly called on him for help, which he, without -waiting to ask questions, promptly rendered. When -he had loosed his bonds he said: “Tell me, unhappy -man, how you came into this evil plight; who was -it that captured you and bound you in this fashion?”</p> -<p>“Sir Knight,” said the man, “be assured that -it was by misfortune only, not by fault committed, -that I came into this condition. Not far from this -place there is a very strong castle, where they keep -this evil custom. No man may pass along the road—and -the road so lies that none may pass without -leave obtained from them who hold the castle—without -payment of toll. And the toll is this—from -every lady her hair, and from every knight his -beard.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_272">272</div> -<p>“As shameful a custom as ever came to my -ears!” cried Sir Calidore, “and one speedily to be -overthrown! But tell me how it came about, and -what was its beginning?”</p> -<p>“In this castle,” the squire made reply, “there -dwells a certain lady, Briana by name; there is no -one on earth more proud, and it vexes her sorely -that she loves a certain Sir Crudor, and that he -will not deign to return love for love, until she -shall make for him a mantle lined with the hair of -ladies and the beards of knights. And she to gain -this end uses the castle, having for her minister in -the matter a certain Maleffort, who, indeed, does -her will in the most cruel fashion. This very day, -as I journeyed by the road with the lady whom I -love, this Maleffort made an assault upon us. Me -first he took prisoner, for I could not withstand -him, so strong was he. This done, he pursued the -damsel, binding me to this tree until he should -come back. But whether he has found her or not, -I know not.”</p> -<p>While he was yet speaking, they heard a loud -shriek from hard by, and looking to the place saw -the knave holding a lady by her garments and -about to shear the tresses from her head. When -Sir Calidore saw this he was greatly moved with -wrath; the squire he left, and turned to pursue the -villain. “Hold!” he cried, “leave that evil doing, -and turn to answer me!”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_273">273</div> -<p>The fellow, trusting in his strength, which, -indeed, had never failed him, answered him -scornfully. “Who,” said he, “are you that defy -me in this fashion? You take this maiden’s part; -will you then give your beard, though it be but -little, for her locks? Nay, nay, you may not -purchase them so cheaply.” So saying he ran at -Sir Calidore in a mighty rage, and rained upon -him a great shower of blows. The knight, who -was well skilled in arms, held back awhile, standing -on his defence, and let him spend his strength. -But when he perceived that he was failing somewhat, -then he began to press him; the more he -gave way the more strongly he assailed him. At -last the fellow lost heart, and turned to fly, hoping -to gain the castle and find shelter. So he fled, -Sir Calidore pursuing; and now he had reached -the gate and cried aloud that they should open to -him without delay. This indeed they who were -within, seeing in what extremity he was, made -haste to do, but even as he stood in the porch Sir -Calidore dealt him a mighty blow with his sword, -and cleft his head from the crown to the chin. He -fell down dead where he stood, and when they -would have shut the gate, they could not, for the -carcase blocked the way, and Sir Calidore entering -in, slew the porter where he stood. Then all who -were in the castle set at him, but in vain; he swept -them aside full easily, as an ox, standing in a -meadow on a summer day, sweeps away the flies -which trouble him. So he passed from the porch -into the hall, where the Lady Briana met him, and -assailed him with angry words, calling him villain -because he had slain her steward, and was now -come to rob her of her possessions.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_274">274</div> -<p>“Nay, nay, fair lady,” he made answer, “I -deserve not these reproaches. I came to abate an -evil custom that you wot of. Such things do dishonour -to the laws of courtesy. I pray you, therefore, -of your own accord, to do away with this evil. -Rather show kindness and hospitality to all such as -pass by this way; so shall you gain a glory that is -better far than earthly love.”</p> -<p>These words did but make her wrath more -strong. “Know, sir,” she cried, “that I disdain -all this talk of kindness and courtesy, and defy -you to the death.”</p> -<p>“I hold it no shame,” answered Sir Calidore, -“to take defiance from a lady; but were there one -here who would abide the trial with his sword, -gladly would I prove my words upon him.”</p> -<p>Then the lady in great haste called to her a -dwarf who served her, and taking from her hand -a ring of gold, gave it to him, saying: “Take this -with all speed to Sir Crudor; and tell him that -there is a knight here who has slain my steward -and done much damage to my people;” for it had -been agreed between them, that when urgent need -should arise she should send this ring. So the -dwarf departed with the ring, and travelled all that -night. Meanwhile Sir Calidore abode in the castle, -the lady being now scornful, now angry, and he -enduring her moods with all patience and courtesy.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_275">275</div> -<p>The next day, before the sun rose, came the -dwarf, bringing a message from Sir Crudor that he -would come to her help before he had broken his -fast, and would deliver to her the enemy alive or -dead; and he sent his helmet as a true token. -Greatly did the Lady Briana rejoice to have such -news, and behaved herself more scornfully than -ever to Sir Calidore. He took no heed of her -ways, rather rejoicing that he should have someone -with whom to settle this quarrel. So he -donned his arms, and waited for the coming of Sir -Crudor. Nor did he wait long. Right soon did -he espy a knight riding across the plain. “This,” -said he to himself, “is the Lady Briana’s -champion,” and without staying to ask of anyone -who this new-comer might be, he rode forth -to meet him. The two came together in the -middle of the plain with so strong a shock that -both were rolled upon the ground, each rider with -his horse. Sir Calidore rose lightly from the -ground, while his adversary still lay without sense -or speech, but he disdained to do him any damage; -it would ill become a courteous knight to strike -a sleeping foe. But Briana, where she stood upon -the castle walls, thought that her champion was -dead, and loudly bemoaned him, and made as if she -would throw herself from the walls to the earth.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_276">276</div> -<p>After a while Sir Crudor raised himself from the -ground, but in listless fashion, like to one who can -scarcely rouse himself from sleep. But when he -saw his adversary, his spirit returned to him as -before, and he renewed the fight, hoping that he -would fare better on foot than he had fared on -horseback. Long did they fight, dealing each to -other fearful blows. Not once, so fierce were they, -did they pause to take rest. At the last, when, as -if by common consent, both lifted their swords high -in the air to deal what might be a final blow, and -so finish the fight, either for this champion or for -that, Sir Calidore, being more nimble and quicker -of sight than his adversary, was beforehand with -him, and struck him with so sharp a blow upon his -helmet that he brought him to his knee. Nor did -he fail to follow up his advantage, but redoubling -the fierceness of his strokes, brought him altogether -to the ground. As he lay there he would have -unlaced his helmet, and given him his death-blow, -but the vanquished man begged for mercy. Then -Sir Calidore, mastering his anger, such was his -courtesy, said: “Mercy I grant with all goodwill. -Do you learn not to treat strangers with such -rudeness. This ill befits a knight, for his first duty -is to conquer himself. And now I give you your -life on these conditions, that you help to the best of -your power all wandering knights, and also give aid -as you can to all ladies in need.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_277">277</div> -<p>These things the knight, being thus delivered -beyond all hope from the fear of death, promised -to do, and swore fealty to Sir Calidore as being his -liege lord for all his life. All this time the Lady -Briana was looking in great dismay and trouble of -mind; and now Sir Calidore, bidding her to -approach, told all that had been agreed between -him and Sir Crudor. She was overcome by so -great a courtesy, and thanked him with all her -heart, for indeed it was in her inmost heart that she -was moved. She threw herself at his feet, and -declared herself to be wholly bound to him. After -this they all betook themselves to the castle, where -the lady entertained them in most joyous fashion.</p> -<p>The banquet ended, she said: “Sir Calidore, I -do bestow this castle upon you freely and without -price, by way of token of how great is my debt to -you.”</p> -<p>Then answered Sir Calidore: “Lady, I thank -you for this gift; but I am not minded to take any -hire or reward for any good deed that it may be -given me to do.” So he gave the castle to the -squire, that he and the damsel might dwell there. -And when he had tarried there certain days, and -was now made whole of his wounds, he went forth -again on his quest.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_278">278</div> -<h2 id="c36"><span class="h2line1">CHAPTER XXXVI</span> -<br /><span class="h2line2">OF THE VALOUR OF TRISTRAM</span></h2> -<p>As Sir Calidore went on his way he saw a young -man of great stature fighting on foot with a -knight on horseback. Not far from these two stood -a lady, clad in very poor array. Sir Calidore would -have inquired of her the cause of the strife, having -it in his mind to part the two combatants, if this -might be done. But before he could come at the -place, the youth had slain the knight, a thing at -which he wondered not a little. This same youth -was very goodly to look at, slender in shape, and of -but seventeen years or so, as it seemed, but tall and -fair of face. He was clad in a woodman’s jacket of -Lincoln green, embroidered with silver, with a -huntsman’s horn hanging by his side. He had a -dart in his right hand, and in his left a boar-spear.</p> -<p>“What means this?” said Sir Calidore. “You, -who are no knight, have slain a knight, a thing -plainly contrary to the law of arms.”</p> -<p>“I would not wish,” answered the youth, “to -break the law of arms; yet would I break it again, -sooner than suffer such wrong as I have of this man, -so long as I have two hands wherewith to defend -myself. The quarrel with him was not of my seeking, -as this lady can testify.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_279">279</div> -<p>“Tell me therefore,” said Sir Calidore, “how -things fell out.”</p> -<p>“Sir Knight,” answered the lad, “I was hunting -in the wood, as I am wont to do for lack of graver -employment, for which my years are not fit, when -I saw this knight, who lies dead yonder, passing -over the plain, with this lady in his company. He -was on horseback, but she followed on foot, and -when she lagged behind, as she must needs do, so -rough was the ground, then he smote her with the -butt of his spear, taking no heed of her tears and -prayers. This sight I saw with no small indignation, -and being moved with wrath said: ‘Surely, -Sir Knight, you should rather takeup this lady to -ride behind you than make her travel so uneasily.’ -To this he answered in angry words, bidding me -hold my peace, nor meddle with things that concerned -me not. ‘Or,’ said he, ‘I will whip you as -a malapert boy should be whipped!’ So after -some angry talk, he struck me twice with his spear, -and I threw at him a dart, fellow of this which you -see here in my hand; nor did I throw it in vain, -for it struck him beneath the heart so hard that -presently he died.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_280">280</div> -<p>Sir Calidore was not a little pleased with his -manner of speech, so bold and honest was it, and -he admired also the sturdiness of the stroke which -had broken to such effect the coat of mail. And -when, after question put to the lady, he found that -it was even as the lad had told, he said: “I do not -condemn this youth, but rather hold him free of -blame. ’Tis the duty of knights, and indeed of all -men, to bear themselves kindly and courteously to -women, and he did well to maintain this good -custom. But now I would have you tell me, lady, -if you will, how it came about that the man whom -he slew treated you in so unseemly a fashion?”</p> -<p>“Sir Knight,” answered the lady, “I am loath -to bring accusations against the dead; yet I must -needs declare the truth. This day, as this knight -and I were passing on our way, we came upon a -glade in the wood where there sat two lovers, a -comely knight and a fair lady. The knight my -companion being taken with the lady’s beauty, bade -me dismount. And when I was unwilling to do so, -thrust me out of my seat with violence. Which -when he had done, he said to the other: ‘Now, -yield me up that dame!’ And when the other—though, -indeed, he was not prepared for battle—refused, -then he wounded him sorely with his spear. -This he did, though the other had proffered to do -battle with him, if only he would appoint a day -when they might try their strength on equal terms. -Meanwhile the lady had fled into the wood, and had -hidden herself to such good purpose, that when my -knight sought to find her, he spent all his labour -in vain. At this baulk he was greatly enraged. He -would not set me on his horse again, but constrained -me to follow on foot, smiting me with his spear if -ever I lagged behind, and taking no heed of my -tears and complaining. So we went on till we fell -in with this young man, and he, being moved with -pity at my evil plight, rebuked the knight. How -the matter ended you have seen for yourself.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_281">281</div> -<p>“This boor has received his due,” said Calidore. -Then turning to the lad, he said: “Tell me now -who you are, and how you came to be in this place. -Never did I see greater promise in anyone, and I -would help you to bring it to as good fulfilment as -may be.”</p> -<p>“Sir Knight,” the youth made answer, “it may -be that the revealing of my name and lineage may -be to my hurt, for of such danger I have been -warned; nevertheless, so courteously have you -borne yourself to me, that I will tell you the whole -truth. I am a Briton, Tristram by name, son of -good King Meliogras, who once reigned in the land -of Cornwall. He dying while I was yet of tender -years, his brother took the kingdom. Thereupon -my mother, Queen Emiline, conceiving me to be in -danger from this same uncle, thought it best to send -me into some foreign land, where I should not be -within his reach, if the thought of doing me a -mischief should arise in his heart. So, according -to the counsel of a wise man of whom she inquired -in her perplexity, she sent me from the land of -Lyonesse, where I was born, to the land of Fairy, -where, no one knowing who or what I was, none -would seek to do me wrong. I was then ten years -of age, and I have abode in this land ever since, -not wasting my days in vain delights, but perfecting -myself in all the arts of hunting. But now it is -time, I hold, to look to higher things. Therefore, -this being such an occasion as might not again -befall, I would entreat of you that you advance me, -unworthy though I be, to a squire’s degree, so that -I may duly learn and practise all the use of arms. -And for this I have this beginning, to wit, the arms -of this knight, whom I slew in fair encounter.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_282">282</div> -<p>Sir Calidore answered, “Fair child, I would not by -any means baulk this your honourable desire to follow -the profession of arms; only I could wish that I -could set you to some service that should be worthy -of you. Kneel therefore and swear that you will be -faithful to any knight whom you shall serve as squire, -and be true to all ladies, and never draw back from -fear of any deed that it may be fitting for you to do.” -So Tristram knelt down upon his knees, and took -his oath to do according to these words.</p> -<p>Thereupon Sir Calidore dubbed him a squire, -and he bloomed forth straightway in all joy and -gladness, even as a bud opens into a flower. But -when Tristram besought him that he might go with -him on his present adventure, vowing that he would -follow him to the death, Sir Calidore answered: “I -should be right glad, most courteous squire, to have -you with me, so that I might see the valour which -you have show itself in honourable achievement, -but this may not be. I am bound by vow to my -sovereign, who set me this task to accomplish, that -I would not take anyone to aid me. For this reason -I may not grant your request. But now, seeing that -this lady is left desolate, and is in need of safe convoy, -you will do well to succour her in this her need.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_283">283</div> -<p>This service the youth gladly undertook, and -Sir Calidore, taking leave of him and the dame in -courteous fashion, set forth again on his quest. He -had not travelled far before he came to the place -where the knight who had been so discourteously -treated by him whom Tristram had slain, lay in a -most sorrowful plight. He was bleeding from many -wounds, so that all the earth about him was red; -and the lady sat by him weeping, and yet doing all -that she could with careful hands to dress his -wounds and ease his pain. Sir Calidore, when he -saw this sorry sight, was well-nigh moved to tears; -from which, scarce refraining himself, he said: “Tell -me, sad lady, if your grief will suffer you, who it was -that with cruel hand wrought such mischief to a -knight unarmed, for surely, if I may but come near -him, I will avenge this wrong upon him.”</p> -<p>The lady answered: “Fair sir, this knight -whom you see here and I sat talking in lover’s -fashion, and this man charged him, unarmed as he -was, and dealt him these deadly wounds. And if -you would know what manner of man he was, he -was of tall stature, clad in gilded armour, crossed -with a band of blue, and for device on his shield he -had a lady rowed in a summer barge across rough -waves.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_284">284</div> -<p>When Sir Calidore heard this, he was assured -that this indeed was the knight whom Tristram had -slain, and he said: “Lady, take to yourself this -comfort, that he who so foully wronged your knight -lies now in yet more evil case. I saw him with my -own eyes lying dead upon the earth, a just recompense -for the foul wrong that he did to your fair -knight. And now bethink you what we may best -do for this wounded man, how you may best convey -him hence, and to what refuge.”</p> -<p>She thanked him for his courtesy and friendly -care, yet knew not what to say, for being a stranger -in that country she could not think of a fitting -place, nor could she ask him to carry the wounded -man. This he did not fail to perceive, and said: -“Fair lady, think not that I deem it a disgrace to -carry this burden; gladly will I help you.” Taking -therefore his shield, and first pouring the healing -balm, which he always carried with him for such -needs, into the knight’s wounds, he put him thereon, -and bare him, the lady helping, to a castle that was -hard by. And it so chanced that the lord of this -castle was father to the wounded knight, a man far -advanced in years, who had been a famous man-at-arms -in the days gone by, and was of most courteous -and hospitable temper. Aldus was his name, and his -son’s name was Aladine. Great was his grief when -he saw his dear son brought home in such a plight.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_285">285</div> -<p>“Dear boy,” he cried, “and is the pleasure with -which I thought to welcome you to this your home -turned to such sorrow!” Nevertheless he put a -brave constraint upon his sorrow, and turned himself -to entertain his guests with all hospitality. To -this welcome Sir Calidore made a courteous return, -but the lady, whose name was Priscilla, could not -by any means be cheered. She was daughter to a -noble lord that dwelt hard by, and had seen and -loved this same Aladine, though he was of meaner -birth and smaller estate; and now she was much -troubled, thinking both of her lover’s perilous state -and of how her father would take the matter. So, -while Sir Aldus entertained Sir Calidore, she sat -and tended the wounded man, and at the last, with -infinite pains, brought him out of the swoon in -which he lay, and restored him to himself.</p> -<p>The next day, when Sir Calidore came to see -how the wounded man was faring, he found him not -a little bettered in state of body, but anxious in -mind, especially for his lady’s sake, because of the -displeasure which her father might have concerning -her love for him. Thereupon he told to Sir Calidore -the whole story of his love, and besought his -help, which he, much moved by pity for their -sorrowful case, gladly promised that he would give. -This promise he most fully did perform. First he -went to where the carcase of that misbehaved knight -lay upon the ground, and shore the head from the -body. This he took in his hand, and brought the -lady to her father’s house. He, indeed, was greatly -troubled to think what had befallen his child, and -was much rejoiced to see her again safe and sound.</p> -<p>Then said Sir Calidore: “Your daughter was -like to suffer wrong from an evil knight; but he -suffered for his evil intent—lo! here you see his head.”</p> -<p>Then did the noble lord most gladly receive her -again to her home, and Sir Calidore, after a short -sojourn, departed again upon his quest.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_286">286</div> -<h2 id="c37"><span class="h2line1">CHAPTER XXXVII</span> -<br /><span class="h2line2">SIR CALEPINE AND THE LADY SERENA</span></h2> -<p>As Sir Calidore passed on his way he came upon -two lovers, Sir Calepine and the Lady Serena, -as they sat talking together. They were abashed -to see him, and he, being the very soul of courtesy, -made most humble apology for so disturbing them. -Then said Sir Calepine: “Sit down and rest -awhile, and let us talk together;” to which Sir -Calidore courteously assented. While they talked, -the Lady Serena, tempted by the fairness of the -place, and seeking to make a garland of flowers, -of which there was great store, wandered away.</p> -<p>Thereupon the Blatant Beast, the same monster -which Sir Calidore had it in charge to seek, rushed -out of a wood that was hard by, caught her in his -mouth, and carried her away. She cried aloud to -the two knights for help, and they, hearing her -voice, started up to succour her. Sir Calidore, -being the more swift of foot of the two, overtook -the beast before it had gone far. Thereupon it -cast down the lady out of its mouth and fled. Nor -did Sir Calidore delay to pursue the beast. “The -lady,” said he to himself, “will be cared for by her -own knight; but as for me, I must not abandon my -quest.” How he fared in the pursuit will be told -hereafter; but we will follow in the meanwhile the -fortunes of the two lovers.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_287">287</div> -<p>Sir Calepine found the lady in very sad plight, -being sorely wounded on both sides by the monster’s -teeth, so that she lay upon the ground in a -swoon, as if she were dead. With much ado he -brought her back to life, and, setting her on his -horse, held her up with his arms, till they could -find some place where she might rest and be healed -of her wounds. So they journeyed till they came -to a river, on the other side of which stood a fair -castle, in which he hoped that he might find shelter. -But when he came to the water’s edge he found -that the stream could scarce be forded on foot. -While he doubted what it were best to do, there -came a knight to the river’s side, with a lady riding -on a palfrey by his side. Thereupon Sir Calepine, -with all due courtesy, made a request of the new-comer, -that he would take this wounded lady to the -other side.</p> -<p>“Not so,” replied the other; “if you have no -horse of your own you shall have no help of mine. -Go on foot, and let this lady do the same. Or, if -you like it better, carry her on your back, and so -prove yourself a man.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_288">288</div> -<p>The lady on the palfrey was much displeased at -the rudeness of this speech, and, pitying the plight -of Serena, would have helped her with her own -palfrey. For this courtesy Sir Calepine thanked -her, but, being very angry with the knight, would -have none of her help. Stepping down, therefore, -into the river, he held himself up against the stream -with his spear in one hand, and with the other -hand stayed the lady on his horse. All the while -the discourteous knight stood on the bank jeering -and laughing.</p> -<p>When Sir Calepine had won in safety to the -farther bank, he called aloud to the other, saying, -“Unknightly man, disgrace to all who bear arms, -I defy you. Fight if you dare, or never be bold to -bear arms again.” But the fellow took no heed of -this challenge, but laughed aloud, as if to say that -his adversary was of so mean estate that a man of -honour need not trouble to regard his words. So, -crossing the stream, he came to the fair house on -the farther bank, for indeed this was his house.</p> -<p>To this same house came Sir Calepine, for -indeed there was no other house where he could -find shelter, and asked admittance for the lady’s -sake. But the porter said: “We find no lodging -here for any wandering knight, unless he is willing -first to fight with the master of the house.”</p> -<p>“And who is he?” said Sir Calepine.</p> -<p>“His name,” answered the porter, “is Sir Turpin; -a mighty man and a great fighter; he bears -a great grudge against all wandering knights, by -reason of some wrong that was done him by such -a knight in time past.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_289">289</div> -<p>Then said Sir Calepine: “Go your way to your -master, and tell him that a wandering knight craves -shelter for a wounded lady, and that he is willing -to fight, but craves that Sir Turpin will, of his -courtesy, postpone this issue till the day following.” -To this request no answer other than had first been -delivered was made, and Sir Calepine perforce -turned away, not knowing what else he could do. -All that night he sheltered the lady under a bush -as best he could. The next day he went on his -way, hoping to find some more hospitable place, -and walking as before by the lady’s side.</p> -<p>But he was not suffered to proceed far; for Sir -Turpin, filled with hatred and malice, pursued after -him and overtook him, and having him at a disadvantage, -for he had the charge of the lady on -his hands, went near to slaying him. Slain without -doubt he had been, but for help that came to him -beyond all hope. A savage man, who dwelt in the -wood, hearing the lady’s cry, hastened to discover -what had befallen. He was as a brute beast, and -had never before felt in his breast any touch of -pity; but now, seeing the knight so hardly pressed, -was moved to help him. Neither armour had he -nor arms, being wont to strike with such things as -came to his hand, and for protection he had a -magic charm, which from his birth had made him -proof against all wounds. He took no thought -how he could best attack Sir Turpin, but ran at -him with great fury. The knight struck him full -upon the breast with his spear, but made no wound. -And when the wild man’s fury grew greater and -greater, and he caught hold of the knight’s shield, -and the knight on the other hand perceived that -neither spear nor sword availed anything against -him, then Sir Turpin left his shield and his spear -also and fled. Nor had he then escaped but for the -fleetness of his steed, for the savage also was the -fastest of runners. So near did he come that Sir -Turpin shrieked aloud for fear, a most unbecoming -thing for a knight to do; nevertheless, by the speed -of his horse he escaped to his castle.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_290">290</div> -<p>The savage man, therefore, seeing his labour of -pursuit to be vain, returned to the place where he -had left the knight and the lady. Both he found -in very evil case, and tended them with all care, -staunching the bleeding of their wounds with juices -of healing herbs which he found in the woods. -Also he took them to a dwelling which he had in -the wood hard by, and gave them such entertainment -as he could, beds of leaves on which to sleep, -and wild fruits of the wood for food, for the savage -man never would slay any living creature.</p> -<p>But now there befell these lovers a great mishap. -Sir Calepine, being now whole of his wounds, was -wandering in the wood, when he heard the cry of -an infant which a bear was carrying off in his -mouth. This indeed he rescued, but in the chase -went so far that he wholly lost his way, and could -not by any means return to the place where he had -left the Lady Serena. Long did she wait for his -coming, being in great doubt and trouble as to what -had befallen him, and when, after many days, he -was still absent, she purposed to leave the abode -of the Savage Man. He would not suffer her to -go alone, but clad himself in Sir Calepine’s armour—his -sword the knight had put in some secret -place—and so set forth; nor, indeed, was ever a -stranger pair seen in company.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_291">291</div> -<p>They had not journeyed far before, by great -good fortune, they met Prince Arthur. To him -Serena told all that had befallen her and Sir Calepine, -the misdeeds of Sir Turpin, and the wandering -away of the knight. And when Prince Arthur -had heard her tale, he said: “You I will bestow -with a good and wise man, a hermit, who dwells -in these parts. My squire also, who has suffered -no little damage, I will leave; as for this discourteous -knight who calls himself Turpin, I will -punish him forthwith.”</p> -<p>And this he did in most effective fashion, slaying -him and hanging him after by the heels upon -a tree, that others might take warning by his -punishment.</p> -<p>And now shall be told what befell the Lady -Serena, and how it came to pass that she and her -lover were found one of another. It chanced one -day as she walked in the wood with Prince Arthur’s -squire that he was set upon by two knaves, and -she, doubting to what end the battle might come, -fled away on her feet, and, losing her way, could -not by any means return to the hermit’s abode. -Being wearied out with long wandering, she lay -down in the wood to sleep.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_292">292</div> -<p>Now there dwelt in those parts a savage tribe -which was wont to live by robbery. They did not -till the ground, nor breed cattle, nor deal in merchandise, -but they lived by spoiling of their neighbours’ -goods. And they had this evil custom also, -that they lived on the flesh of men, devouring all -strangers whom they might chance to find within -their borders. Some of these savages, as they -wandered in the forest, chanced to see Serena, as -she lay asleep. Great was their joy to see her, -not for her beauty, but because she would make, -they thought, so goodly a meal. First they debated -whether they should wake her or let her sleep. -And it seemed to them better that she should sleep -her fill. “She will be the better,” they said, “for -her sleep.” Also they agreed together that she -should be offered in sacrifice to their god. “He,” -said they, “shall have her blood, and we, after the -sacrifice, will have a goodly feast on her flesh.” -This they set about to do, and having built an -altar, they stripped her of her ornaments and robes -and laid her upon it; and the priest stood ready -to slay her with a knife of stone in his hand, when -their evil purpose was baulked.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_293">293</div> -<p>Sir Calepine, by some happy chance, had come -to this same grove, which they had fixed for the -place of the sacrifice, and for the feast which was to -come after. He was still searching for Serena, and -having travelled far that day, had laid himself down -to sleep. And now, there being a great noise of -bagpipes and horns, for with these they celebrated -the solemnity, he started up; and, looking through -the branches that were about him, saw the altar -set, and the woman lying on it, and the priest, -stretching out his hand to slay her. Who she was -he knew not, but ran to her help, as was a knight’s -duty, and the priest he slew, and not a few of the -savages that were gathered round, and the rest fled -like to doves that fly before a hawk. So did Sir -Calepine recover the lady of his love.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_294">294</div> -<h2 id="c38"><span class="h2line1">CHAPTER XXXVIII</span> -<br /><span class="h2line2">OF SIR CALIDORE AND PASTORELLA</span></h2> -<p>Now must be told what befell Sir Calidore in -his quest. For many days he pursued unceasingly -the Blatant Beast. Over hills and through -valleys, through forests and across plains, he made -his way, and wearied not. The monster he suffered -not to rest, nor did he rest himself, save only when -Nature commanded; for he feared disgrace, if haply -should he, for reason of sloth, forego his task, and -the monster should escape. Therefore he went -from Court to city, and from city to country, and -in the country nothing would content him but he -must search in every farm. On a day while he -thus urged the pursuit, he came on a company of -shepherds who were playing on pipes and singing -country ballads, the while their flocks fed near them -among the broom bushes with their flowers of gold. -When he came near to them he inquired of them -whether they had chanced to see such a beast as he -sought.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_295">295</div> -<p>They answered him: “We have seen none such -in this country, nor have we anything that threatens -harm to us or to our flocks. And we pray to the -good God that He will keep such creatures far from -us.” And one of them, perceiving that the knight -was hot and weary, offered him drink, and if he -chanced to be hungry, something that he might eat. -This courteous offer he gladly accepted, and sat -him down, well content with such simple fare as -suits the dweller in the country. When he had -ended his meal he saw a fair damsel who wore a -crown of flowers tied with ribbons of silk, being -clad in a gown of home-made green which she had -worked with her own hands. She sat on a little -hillock in the middle of the company, with company -of lovely maids about her, and round these -again was a ring of shepherds, piping and singing -the praises of their queen, for indeed she did shine -as a queen in the midst of her subjects. Fair of -face she was and of just proportions, and commended -her beauty to all beholders by the modesty -of her carriage. There was not one in the place -but honoured, and not a few sighed for her in love: -but she had no liking for anyone.</p> -<p>Greatly did Sir Calidore admire both her beauty -and her carriage, for they seemed to him to far -excel the shepherd’s estate. “Surely,” he said to -himself, “this may be a princess who thus disguises -her high condition.” And even while he thought -the thought in his heart, Love took him unawares. -So he sat musing, and, for a while, so taken was his -heart with this new thought, forgot the chase.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_296">296</div> -<p>And now the evening was come and it behoved -the shepherds to fold their flocks. So there came -an aged sire, Melibæus by name, who was commonly -reputed to be the father of the fair maiden—Pastorella -was her name. So indeed it was believed, -but, in very truth, he had found her as an -infant lying in an open field, and taking her home, -had brought her up as his child, for child of his -very own he had none. The old man said, “Night -falls, and we must fold the flocks.” Nor was there -any want of helpers to the fair Pastorella. Many -were eager to manage her sheep, and none more -eager than Corydon.</p> -<p>Then Melibæus, seeing how Sir Calidore sat -alone, seeming to have no place of abode, and that -night was now near at hand, said to him: “Fair -sir, I have but a humble cottage; yet is this a -better lodging than the bare field; I pray you to -take up your abode with me this night.” To which -Sir Calidore gladly agreed, for indeed there was -nothing that he more desired.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_297">297</div> -<p>A hearty welcome did the old man and his wife -accord to the knight. Shortly after, the fair Pastorella -came back from folding her flock, and they all -sat down to sup in high content, and had much -pleasant talk concerning the shepherd’s life, the -delights of which old Melibæus set forth. “Let -those who will seek after honour and wealth and -the good things of this world: I am content with -what I have. My nights I spend in quiet sleep, my -days in honest toil. I take good care that the fox -shall not harm my lambs; I catch birds in snares, -and fishes with hook and net. When I am weary, -I rest my limbs under the green tree; when I am -thirsty, I drink of the brook. Time was when I -was not content with these simple things, but must -raise myself above my fellows, and seek fortune -elsewhere. So I left my home and betook myself -to the King’s Court, and worked for hire. But I -perceived that in this life there was vanity and discontent; -after ten years, therefore, had passed, I -came back to my home and to peace, and I have -learnt to love it daily more and more.” While the -good man talked, the knight was well content to -listen. Much he liked to hear such speech, but -more to look at the fair Pastorella.</p> -<p>After a while he said to the old man, “Good -father, I would gladly rest a while in this peaceful -place. The ship of my life has of late been greatly -tossed by tempestuous winds and in stormy seas. -Let it therefore find haven here, and I meanwhile -will meditate what course I shall follow for the time -to come. But I would not that my entertainment -should be a burden to you. Your simple fare and -such lodging as you can give content me well; but -for these you should have fair guerdon.” So saying -he drew from his pouch a great store of gold, and -would have the old man take it. But Melibæus -pushed it from him.</p> -<p>“I desire it not,” he said; “this is the thing -that breeds such mischief in the world. But if -you are content to abide here and lead our shepherd’s -life, be it so; I am well content.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_298">298</div> -<p>So Sir Calidore abode in the old man’s house, -delighting himself with the daily sight of the fair -Pastorella, and bearing her company whenever he -could find excuse. Very high courtesy did he show -to the maid; but she, having been used to more -lowly things, held it in but light esteem. This -the knight did not fail to perceive. So he doffed -his knightly attire, and clad himself in shepherd’s -dress, and laid aside his spear for a shepherd’s -crook. One had thought him another Paris when -for Œnone’s sake he fed her flocks on the Phrygian -Ida. So did the shepherd Calidore go day by day -to the fields with Pastorella’s flock. He kept watch -against the wolf while the maid sported and played, -and at even—such is the might of love—he would -essay to help in the milking of the ewes.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_299">299</div> -<p>These things were little to the liking of Corydon, -who had long courted the maid. He wore a scowling -face and would complain that old service was forgotten, -and bore himself in most injurious fashion. -Calidore, on the other hand, never abated one jot -of his usual courtesy, showing no sign of rancour -or offence, but rather seeking, as it seemed, to commend -his rival to the good opinion of the maid. So -when they danced to the piping of Colin Clout, and -the others would have Calidore lead the ring, the -knight took Corydon and set him in his place. And -when Pastorella took the garland of flowers from -her head and set it on Calidore’s, he again put it -on the head of Corydon, much to the youth’s content. -Another time, when the shepherds had games -and contests of skill and strength, the prize being -a garland which the fair Pastorella had twined with -her own hands, Corydon stepped into the ring and -challenged the knight to a bout of wrestling. He -was himself well skilled in the art, and being supple -and strong sought to put his rival to open shame. -But he was much mistaken in his man, for the knight -far excelled him both in strength and in skill, and -gave him such a fall as well-nigh broke his neck. -Nevertheless, when Pastorella bestowed on him the -crown, he passed it to Corydon, saying that he in -truth deserved it more, and that he had prevailed -by fortune rather than by skill. Thus did the -knight, so courteous was he and large of heart, -win the fair maiden’s favour. But there was -nothing which advanced him more than that which -is now to be told.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_300">300</div> -<p>On a certain day when these three, to wit, -Pastorella and Sir Calidore and the shepherd -Corydon, went out into the wood to gather strawberries, -a tiger suddenly rushed out from a thicket, -and with wide gaping mouth ran at the maid. She, -seeing herself alone, for her companions chanced to -be divided from her, cried aloud for succour. And -when Corydon, who was the nearer of the two, -heard the cry, he ran to help her. But when he -saw how fierce a beast it was that was attacking -her, his courage failed him, and he fled, putting -his life before his love. But Calidore, who also -had heard the crying, coming not far behind, when -he saw the tiger and the maiden held in his claws, -ran at the beast with all his strength, and first -striking him to the ground with such a blow that -the creature could not stand under it, then cut off -its head and laid it at the maiden’s feet. Small -wonder is it that she gave her love to a knight -so courteous and so bold. So for a while they -abode in great content, save that Sir Calidore had -put out of his mind the quest on which he was -bound, concerning which quest he had sworn to -the great Queen Gloriana that nothing should -hinder him from it.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_301">301</div> -<h2 id="c39"><span class="h2line1">CHAPTER XXXIX</span> -<br /><span class="h2line2">THE END OF SIR CALIDORE’S QUEST</span></h2> -<p>It chanced one day that while Sir Calidore was -hunting in the woods—it pleased him more to -be hunter than to be shepherd—a company of lawless -men who never used the spade or plough, but -lived by the spoiling of their neighbours, fell upon -the shepherds’ village, and spoiled their houses and -drove away their flocks. Many of the men they -slew, and many they led away captives. Among -these was old Melibæus and the fair Pastorella and -also Corydon. These the brigands carried away to -an island where they dwelt, a close place, hidden -with great woods round about, meaning, when -occasion offered, to sell them to merchants who -dealt in such wares.</p> -<p>When they had remained in ward for a while the -captain of the brigands, seeing Pastorella how fair -she was, conceived a great love for her, and when -she spake him fair, would have had her marry him. -This she was ill-content to do, but could not devise -any other means to stay his importunities than to -feign a sudden sickness. While she was making -this pretence there came to the island a company of -slave merchants, who, inquiring whether there were -any of the wares in which they dealt, were brought -to the captain.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_302">302</div> -<p>“Sir,” said the brigands to the captain, “here -be the merchants; ’twould be well that all the -captives whom we have should be brought out and -sold for such a price as may be agreed upon, and -the money divided in equal shares.”</p> -<p>To this the captain could not but consent. -The captives, therefore, were brought forward, -Melibæus and Corydon and the others, and the -merchants set a price upon them. This being -finished, said one of the brigands, “There is yet -another captive, a very fair maid, for whom, without -doubt, you would pay much money, so beautiful is -she to look upon.”</p> -<p>“Nay,” cried the captain, “that maid is not for -selling. She is my wife, nor has anyone any -concern with her. She, too, is now so wasted and -worn with sickness that no one would be willing to -pay for her a price, however small.”</p> -<p>So he took them to the chamber where she -abode. A poor place it was, gloomy and dark, and -the maiden was wasted and wan. Nevertheless -the merchants were astonished at her beauty. -“The others,” said their spokesman, “are but common -wares. We will buy them, if you will, but on -this condition only, that we may buy this maiden -also.” And he named for her a price of a thousand -pieces of gold.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_303">303</div> -<p>The captain’s wrath was much moved at these -words. “My love,” he cried, “shall not be sold. -With the others you may do as you will, but to her -I hold.”</p> -<p>“Nay,” said the one who was chief among the -brigands, “you do us great wrong. We have our -equal share in her, and we demand that she be sold -with the rest.”</p> -<p>When he heard this, the captain drew his sword -from its sheath, and shouted that anyone who -should dare lay hands on her should straightway -die. On this there followed a great battle. But -first they slew the prisoners, lest haply they should -turn against the weaker side. Thus did old Melibæus -die and with him many others, but Corydon -escaped. This being done, the thieves fought -among themselves; and soon the captain, who was -ever more careful of Pastorella than of his own life, -was slain, and she, being wounded with the same -stroke by which he was bereft of life, fell upon the -ground, being hidden under a pile of dead bodies. -The captain being dead, the strife of which he was -the beginning and the chief cause soon came to an -end. The brigands, searching among the dead, -found the maid still lived, though sorely wounded; -they gave her, therefore, such care as could be -found in so rude a place.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_304">304</div> -<p>In the meanwhile Corydon had made his way to -the village where he dwelt, and there he encountered -the knight, who, seeing the house in which he dwelt -utterly spoiled and void of all inhabitants, was overwhelmed -with trouble and fear. To him he told the -story of how he, with the rest, had been led into -captivity, and how the brigands had fallen out -among themselves, and how the captain had fought -with the others, and had been slain, and with him -Pastorella, for so the shepherd believed.</p> -<p>For a while Sir Calidore was wholly mastered by -his grief. Yet coming to himself, he considered -that Corydon had not seen with his own eyes all -that he had told, because he had fled away before -the strife had so much as begun; and so hope, -which is ever hard to kill in the hearts of men, -sprang up within him, and he made a great resolve -that he would find her if she yet lived, or avenge -her if she had died. He therefore said to Corydon: -“Come now, and show me the place where these -brigands dwell,” which thing Corydon was at the -first unwilling to do; for he was not minded to run -again into the danger from which he had escaped. -Nevertheless Sir Calidore so wrought upon him -that he consented to go.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_305">305</div> -<p>The two therefore set out together clad in -shepherd’s clothing, and carrying each a shepherd’s -crook; but Sir Calidore had donned his armour. -After a while they saw on a hill which was not far -away some flocks and shepherds tending them, and -approached them, hoping to learn something about -the matter with which they were concerned. Then -they perceived that these flocks were indeed the -same as the brigands had driven away, for Corydon -knew his own sheep when he saw them, and wept -for pity, being in grievous fear because he perceived -that they who kept them were none other than the -brigands themselves. These, however, were but ill -shepherds, for they lay fast asleep. Corydon would -have had Sir Calidore slay them as they slept. -But the knight hoped that he might gain from them -some tidings of her whom he was seeking. So, -waking them gently, he gave them courteous greeting. -And when the brigands would know who he -was, he answered that he and his companion were -used to the keeping of cattle and the like, and now, -having run away from their masters, sought to find -service elsewhere.</p> -<p>“Take service then with us,” said the brigands, -“for this work is not to our liking.” To this the -two agreed, and took charge accordingly.</p> -<p>When night fell the brigands took them to the -cave where they dwelt. There Sir Calidore learnt -many things which he desired to know, and chief -of all that Pastorella was yet alive. At midnight, -when all were sleeping sound, Sir Calidore, fully -armed, for he had found a sword, though but of -the meanest sort, went to the cave wherein dwelt -the new captain of the band. It was indeed barred, -but the knight soon broke down the bars, and when -the captain, roused by the noise, came running to -the entrance, slew him. Pastorella, being within, -was at the first not a little alarmed at this new -intruder, yet was greatly comforted to see again -her own lover, and he also was overcome with joy, -and catching her in his arms, kissed her most -tenderly. Meanwhile the thieves had gathered -together, perceiving that some new danger threatened -them. But Sir Calidore, standing in the -opening, slew them as they approached. In the -end he utterly vanquished the whole company, and -spoiled their goods. As for the sheep, he gave -them as a gift to Corydon. The fair Pastorella he -bestowed in the house of a certain Sir Bellamour -and the lady Claribell his wife.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_306">306</div> -<p>Now must be told the true name and lineage of -this same maiden Pastorella. Sir Bellamour in -former time had served a very great lord of those -parts who had one daughter, Claribell by name. -This same lord had promised her in marriage to -the lord of Pictland, which was the neighbouring -dominion, thinking that the two domains might -thus be conveniently joined together. Claribell -meanwhile loved Sir Bellamour, who was a very -gallant knight. So fondly did she love him that -she consented to a secret wedlock, having good -hopes that her father might relent. But when he -continued to be hard of heart, she having borne a -maiden babe, was constrained to commit the child -to a woman who waited upon her. This same -woman, taking the babe into the field, laid it under -a bush, and having hidden herself hard by, waited -to see what should happen, for she trusted that -someone, hearing its cry, would take it up. But -first she noted that it had on its breast a little spot -of purple colour, like to a rosebud. After a while -the shepherd Melibæus passing by, heard the voice -of the babe, and taking it from its place, carried it -home to his wife, who, being herself childless, -gladly took it in charge, and reared it for her own. -No long time after the Lady Claribell’s father died -and left to her all that he had, and she having now -no cause why she should conceal her marriage, took -Sir Bellamour openly for her husband, and had -lived with him in great content until the coming of -Sir Calidore into those parts.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_307">307</div> -<p>And now Sir Calidore bethought him of his -quest, that he must not delay its accomplishment -any longer, and, indeed, he feared lest he should -suffer in fame because he had put it aside in thinking -of other things. Now, therefore, he departed, -leaving Pastorella in the charge of the Lady -Claribell, the same undertaking this care most -willingly, for the maid was fair and gracious, and -was altogether one to be loved. Sir Bellamour also, -having a friendship for Sir Calidore, with whom -he had served the Queen Gloriana in time past, -was glad to help him in this fashion.</p> -<p>It chanced on a day that the Lady Claribell’s -waiting woman, Melissa by name, being the same -that in time past had served her in the matter of -the new-born babe, was doing service to the fair -Pastorella in the matter of her attire. Being so -engaged, she spied the mark on her bosom and said -to herself, “Surely this is the very mark of a rosebud -that I saw on the Lady Claribell’s maiden babe, -and the years of her age, as far as may be guessed, -agree thereto.” Having this in her mind, she ran -straightway to the lady, her mistress, and unfolded -the whole matter, how she had noted the mark, and -how the old shepherd had taken the babe from the -ground. That this shepherd and his wife had been -as father and mother to the maiden was of common -knowledge. Nor did the Lady Claribell delay to -search out the matter with her own eyes, and, being -satisfied that this was indeed her very child, took -her to herself with great joy, as did also her -husband, Sir Bellamour.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_308">308</div> -<p>Meanwhile Sir Calidore pursued the Blatant -Beast, and at the last overtook him. The monster, -having spoiled all the other places in the realm, was -wasting the church, robbing the chancel and fouling -the altar, and casting down all the goodly ornaments. -When he saw the knight he fled, knowing -that he was in peril, yet could he not escape. In a -narrow place Sir Calidore overtook him and compelled -him to turn. Sore was the conflict between -these two, for the beast ran at the knight with open -mouth, set with a double range of iron teeth, -between which were a thousand tongues giving out -dreadful cries as of all manner of beasts, tongues -of serpents also spitting out poison, and of all other -venomous things that are upon the earth. Not one -whit dismayed, the knight ran in upon him, and -when the monster lifted himself up on his hind legs, -and would have rent him with his claws, he threw -his shield between and held him down. Vainly did -the beast rage and strive to lift himself from the -ground; the more he strove, the more hardly and -heavily did the knight press upon him. At the last, -when the creature’s strength now failed him, the -knight put a great muzzle of iron with many links -in his mouth, so that he should no more send forth -those evil voices. And to the muzzle he fastened -a long chain with which he led him, he following as -a dog, so utterly was he subdued. Through all -Fairyland he led him, the people thronging out -of their towns to see him, and much admiring the -knight who, by his great strength and valour, had -subdued so foul and fierce a creature.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_309">309</div> -<p>’Tis true that in after days, whether by some -evil chance or by the folly of those who had charge -of the monster, these bonds were broken; for even -now the creature wanders about the world doing -great harm to all estates of men. For it must be -known that his name is <span class="sc">Slander</span>.</p> -<p>But in the good times of old it was not so. So -did Sir Calidore fulfil his quest. And afterwards -he lived in all happiness, as became so brave and -loyal a knight, with his wedded wife, the fair -Pastorella.</p> -<h2 id="c40"><span class="h2line1">FOOTNOTES</span></h2> -<div class="fnblock"><div class="fndef"><a class="fn" id="fn_1" href="#fr_1">[1]</a>The story may be read at length in -<i>Stories from the Greek Tragedians</i>. -Briefly put, it is this: Hercules slew the Centaur who would -have carried off his promised wife. The dying monster gave his -mantle, dyed as it was with his blood, to the woman, saying: “Keep -this as my last gift: it will be a sure means of keeping your husband’s -love.” In after years the woman, thinking that her husband had -ceased to love her, sent him the robe as a gift, and he, putting it on, -was so grievously burned by the poison that he died. -</div><div class="fndef"><a class="fn" id="fn_2" href="#fr_2">[2]</a>Adikia = Unrighteousness. -</div> -</div> -<hr class="break" /> -<h3 id="c41"><b>BOOKS BY ALFRED J. CHURCH</b></h3> -<dl class="undent"><dt>THE ODYSSEY FOR BOYS AND GIRLS</dt> -<dt>THE ILIAD FOR BOYS AND GIRLS</dt> -<dt class="center"><span class="smaller">TOLD FROM HOMER</span></dt> -<dt class="jr"><span class="small"><i>With colored illustrations. Each, 12mo, $1.50</i></span></dt> -<dt>THE STORY OF THE ILIAD</dt> -<dt>THE STORY OF THE ODYSSEY</dt> -<dd><span class="small"><i>Cloth, 12mo, with illustrations after Flaxman. Each, $1.00</i></span></dd> -<dd><span class="small"><i>In the new Standard School Library, without illustrations, each, 50 cents.</i></span></dd></dl> -<hr class="shorthr" /> -<dl class="undent"><dt>THE BURNING OF ROME</dt> -<dd><span class="small">A Story of the days of Nero. With colored illustrations.</span></dd> -<dt class="jr"><span class="small"><i>Cloth, 12mo, $1.00</i></span></dt> -<dt>STORIES OF CHARLEMAGNE AND THE TWELVE PEERS OF FRANCE</dt> -<dd><span class="small">From the old romances, with illustrations in color by George Morrow.</span></dd> -<dt class="jr"><span class="small"><i>Cloth, 12mo, $1.75</i></span></dt> -<dt>HEROES OF CHIVALRY AND ROMANCE</dt> -<dd><span class="small">With illustrations in color by George Morrow.</span></dd> -<dt class="jr"><span class="small"><i>Cloth, 12mo, $1.75</i></span></dt> -<dt>THE CRUSADERS</dt> -<dd><span class="small">A story of the War for the Holy Sepulchre, as seen by the Wandering Jew. With illustrations in color by George Morrow.</span></dd> -<dt class="jr"><span class="small"><i>Cloth, 12mo, $1.75</i></span></dt> -<dt>HELMET AND SPEAR</dt> -<dd><span class="small">With illustrations in color.</span></dd> -<dt class="jr"><span class="small"><i>Cloth, 12mo, $1.75</i></span></dt> -<dt>ROMAN LIFE IN THE DAYS OF CICERO</dt> -<dt class="jr"><span class="small"><i>Standard School Library, cloth, 12mo, 50 cents</i></span></dt></dl> -<div class="pb" id="Page_311">311</div> -<h3 id="c42"><b>EVERY BOY’S AND GIRL’S SERIES</b></h3> -<blockquote> -<p><span class="small">A series of books which have been proved to have -each its points of special appeal to young readers.</span></p> -</blockquote> -<p><span class="jr"><i>Attractively bound in cloth, each, 75 cents net</i></span></p> -<dl class="undent"><dt><b>The Adventures of Dorothy</b></dt> -<dd><span class="small">By <span class="sc">Jocelyn Lewis</span><span class="hst">Illustrated by Seymour M. Stone</span></span></dd> -<dt><b>Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland</b></dt> -<dd><span class="small">By <span class="sc">Lewis Carroll</span><span class="hst">With forty-two illustrations by John Tenniel</span></span></dd> -<dt><b>Aunt Jimmy’s Will</b></dt> -<dd><span class="small">By <span class="sc">Mabel Osgood Wright</span><span class="hst">Illustrated by Florence Scovel Shinn</span></span></dd> -<dt><b>The Bears of Blue River</b></dt> -<dd><span class="small">By <span class="sc">Charles Major</span><span class="hst">With illustrations by A. B. Frost and others</span></span></dd> -<dt><b>The Bennett Twins</b></dt> -<dd><span class="small">By <span class="sc">Marguerite Hurd</span></span></dd> -<dt><b>Bible Stories retold for Young People</b> <span class="small">(In one volume)</span></dt> -<dd class="t"><span class="small">The New Testament Story</span></dd> -<dd><span class="small">By <span class="sc">W. F. Adeney</span>, M.A.<span class="hst">With illustrations and maps</span></span></dd> -<dd class="t"><span class="small">The Old Testament Story</span></dd> -<dd><span class="small">By <span class="sc">W. H. Bennett</span>, M.A.<span class="hst">With illustrations and maps</span></span></dd> -<dt><b>Boy Life on the Prairie</b></dt> -<dd><span class="small">By <span class="sc">Hamlin Garland</span><span class="hst">Illustrated by E. W. Deming</span></span></dd> -<dt><b>Children of the Tenements</b></dt> -<dd><span class="small">By <span class="sc">Jacob A. Riis</span><span class="hst">With illustrations by C. M. Relyea and others</span></span></dd> -<dt><b>The Children who ran Away</b></dt> -<dd><span class="small">By <span class="sc">Evelyn Sharp</span><span class="hst">With illustrations by Paul Meylan</span></span></dd> -<dt><b>Dogtown</b></dt> -<dd><span class="small">By <span class="sc">Mabel Osgood Wright</span></span></dd> -<dt class="jr"><span class="small">Profusely illustrated from photographs by the author</span></dt> -<dt><b>Eight Secrets</b></dt> -<dd><span class="small">By <span class="sc">Ernest Ingersoll</span><span class="hst">Illustrated</span></span></dd> -<dt><b>The General Manager’s Story</b></dt> -<dd><span class="small">By <span class="sc">Herbert Elliott Hamblen</span><span class="hst">Illustrated</span></span></dd> -<dt><b>A Little Captive Lad</b></dt> -<dd><span class="small">By <span class="sc">Beulah Marie Dix</span><span class="hst">With illustrations by Will Grefé</span></span></dd> -<dt><b>The Merry Anne</b></dt> -<dd><span class="small">By <span class="sc">Samuel Merwin</span></span></dd> -<dt class="jr"><span class="small">With illustrations and decorations by Thomas Fogarthy</span></dt> -<dt><b>Merrylips</b></dt> -<dd><span class="small">By <span class="sc">Beulah Marie Dix</span><span class="hst">With illustrations by Frank T. Merrill</span></span></dd> -<dt><b>Pickett’s Gap</b></dt> -<dd><span class="small">By <span class="sc">Homer Greene</span><span class="hst">With illustrations</span></span></dd> -<dt><b>Tales of the Fish Patrol</b></dt> -<dd><span class="small">By <span class="sc">Jack London</span><span class="hst">With illustrations</span></span></dd> -<dt><b>Through the Looking Glass</b></dt> -<dd><span class="small">By <span class="sc">Lewis Carroll</span><span class="hst">With fifty illustrations by John Tenniel</span></span></dd> -<dt><b>Tom Benton’s Luck</b></dt> -<dd><span class="small">By <span class="sc">Herbert Elliott Hamblen</span><span class="hst">With illustrations</span></span></dd> -<dt><b>Tom Brown’s School Days</b></dt> -<dd><span class="small">By An Old Boy—<span class="sc">Thomas Hughes</span></span></dd> -<dt class="jr"><span class="small">With illustrations by Arthur Hughes and Sidney Hall</span></dt> -<dt><b>Trapper “Jim”</b></dt> -<dd><span class="small">By <span class="sc">Edwyn Sandys</span><span class="hst">With many illustrations by the author</span></span></dd> -<dt><b>The Wonder Children</b></dt> -<dd><span class="small">By <span class="sc">Charles J. Bellamy</span><span class="hst">Illustrated</span></span></dd> -<dt><b>The Youngest Girl in the School</b></dt> -<dd><span class="small">By <span class="sc">Evelyn Sharp</span><span class="hst">With illustrations by C. E. Brock</span></span></dd> -<dt><b>The Railway Children</b></dt> -<dd><span class="small">By <span class="sc">E. Nesbit</span><span class="hst">With illustrations by Charles E. Brock</span></span></dd> -<dt><b>The Phœnix and the Carpet</b></dt> -<dd><span class="small">By <span class="sc">E. Nesbit</span><span class="hst">Illustrated by H. R. Millar</span></span></dd> -<dt><b>“Carrots”: Just a Little Boy</b></dt> -<dd><span class="small">By <span class="sc">Mrs. Molesworth</span><span class="hst">Illustrated by Walter Crane</span></span></dd> -<dt><b>Us: An Old-Fashioned Story</b></dt> -<dd><span class="small">By <span class="sc">Mrs. Molesworth</span><span class="hst">Illustrated</span></span></dd> -<dt><b>Cuckoo Clock</b></dt> -<dd><span class="small">By <span class="sc">Mrs. Molesworth</span><span class="hst">Illustrated</span></span></dd> -<dt><b>The Dwarf’s Spectacles and Other Fairy Tales</b></dt> -<dd><span class="small">By <span class="sc">Max Nordau</span></span></dd> -<dt class="jr"><span class="small">Illustrated by H. A. Hart, F. P. Safford, and R. McGowan</span></dt> -<dt><b>The Story of a Red Deer</b></dt> -<dd><span class="small">By <span class="sc">J. W. Fortescue</span></span></dd> -<dt><b>The Little Lame Prince</b></dt> -<dd><span class="small">By <span class="sc">Dinah Mulock Craik</span>, author of “John Halifax, Gentleman”</span></dd></dl> -<div class="pb" id="Page_313">313</div> -<h3 id="c43"><i>Stories from some of Scott’s Novels, told</i> -<br />By S. R. CROCKETT -<br /><i>Author of “The Raiders,” etc.</i></h3> -<dl class="undent"><dt><b><span class="large">Red Cap Tales</span></b></dt> -<dt class="center"><b>Stolen from the Treasure Chest of the Wizard of the North</b></dt> -<dt class="center"><span class="small">With sixteen illustrations in color by Simon Harmon Vedder</span></dt> -<dt class="jr"><span class="small"><i>Cloth, 12mo, $1.50 net; by mail, $1.67</i></span></dt></dl> -<p>“In this simple recounting of adventures there lurks a really high art, and -not a little humor. Mr. Crockett is aiming to bring home to his critical -small audience the liveliness, the excitement, the breathless adventuresomeness, -of these great novels. He is luring his hearers on to read for themselves. -He tells them enough about the people and the events to make -them hurry to the books to fill out details.”—<i>Churchman</i>.</p> -<p>“Not the least attraction of the book is the clear print, on good paper, -and the really superb colored pictures, delicately tinted and full of artistic -beauty. So far this is the best book we have seen in anticipation of Christmas -gifts, and it is not exorbitant in price.”—<i>New York Christian Advocate</i>.</p> -<p>“Mr. Crockett has adapted Scott for the benefit of his own and other -peopled children, making a little story of each of the main incidents in -sequence, so that the outline and a good deal more of each romance is presented. -Characteristic interludes acquaint one with the story-teller’s first -audience, among them the dear little maid of ‘Sweetheart Travellers.’ The -naturalness of their comment and criticism will delight the reader as surely -as will Mr. Crockett’s clever rehearsal accomplish its purpose ‘to lure children -to the printed book’ of his great original—and along with the youngsters -many ‘oldsters’ (Mr. Crockett’s word) as well.”—<i>The Outlook</i>.</p> -<p class="tbcenter">THE MACMILLAN COMPANY -<br /><span class="small"><b>64-66 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK</b></span></p> - -<p> </p> -<p> </p> -<hr /> - -<h2>Transcriber’s Note</h2> -<ul> -<li>Silently corrected obvious typographical errors; left archaic spellings unchanged.</li> -</ul> - -<p> </p> -<p> </p> -<hr class="full" /> -<p class="pg">***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FAERY QUEEN AND HER KNIGHTS***</p> -<p class="pg">******* This file should be named 55765-h.htm or 55765-h.zip *******</p> -<p class="pg">This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> -<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/5/5/7/6/55765">http://www.gutenberg.org/5/5/7/6/55765</a></p> -<p class="pg"> -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed.</p> - -<p class="pg">Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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