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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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