The last but not the least of all the Seven Champions to be mentioned
famed for heroic courage and gallantry is that most noble and renowned
Knight, Saint David of Wales. After he had quitted the brazen pillar,
followed by his faithful attendant, Owen ap Rice, he proceeded towards
the up-rising of the sun, visiting many of the courts of the first
monarchs of Europe, attending many tournaments, engaging in many
desperate battles, and performing innumerable heroic deeds; which his
faithful Squire took very great care to recount, nor did he allow his
histories to lose anything in the telling. Wonderful indeed were the
numbers of foes his master's sword had slain; huge were the giants he
had overthrown; savage were the wild beasts he had slaughtered; terrific
were the monsters he had put to flight; powerful were the magicians
whose guiles he had circumvented; and horrible were the spirits, and
ghosts, and goblins amid whom he had fought his onward way; indeed few
could hear the faithful Owen recount his master's deeds, and eke his
own, without being impressed with the belief that more heroic Knight did
not exist, nor more brave and trusty Squire.
Thus they journeyed on till Europe was left behind; and entering the
ancient continent of Asia, they arrived at the court of the far-famed
Emperor of Tartary. Here Saint David's fame had preceded him, and they
were received with all that courtesy which to so valiant a Knight was
due.
On the day of their arrival a sumptuous entertainment was prepared, at
which all the chief lords and nobles of the realm were present, when
huge beakers of rosy wine were quaffed; nor could anyone compete with
Saint David in the quantity of the generous liquor he imbibed. For the
following day a grand tournament was arranged, when it was expected that
the noblest feats of arms ever beheld in the empire would be performed.
From far and near came valiant knights from all the neighbouring
provinces, habited in every conceivable style of richest armour; yet
none surpassed Saint David in the sumptuousness of his plume and
burgonet, the trappings of his steed, the richness of his scarf, the
splendour of his shield and breastplate, or of his whole armour, which,
from his lofty helm to his knightly spurs, shone with resplendent
beauty. Numerous champions entered the lists, and many desperate
encounters took place. At length Saint David rode in, followed by the
faithful Owen carrying his spear. The trumpets sounded, Saint David
took his spear, and shaking it aloft prepared for the encounter. A
Knight, one of the chief nobles of Tartary, was his first opponent. Of
blue steel was his casque, and armour, and mighty shield, while a blue
scarf floated from his shoulders. Bravely the Tartar Knight bore
himself, and bravely he withstood the terrible shock of Saint David's
lance. A second time the two Knights charged, when Saint David,
mustering all his powers, struck the Tartar a blow so terrible that he
sent him reeling from his saddle, and with a hollow groan he fell
senseless on the ground; but time will not permit an account of each
separate combat of that far-famed tournament.
Six valiant Knights did Saint David meet, each of whom was vanquished by
his arm. At length, the only son and heir of the Emperor, seeing that
no more worthy antagonist could be found, and willing to retrieve the
disgrace he conceived his countrymen had received, entered the lists,
and bravely challenged the Champion of Wales. The heart of the gallant
Saint David bounded at the thought of engaging in so noble a contest as
that with the Emperor's son, and he declared himself ready to commence
the course whenever it was the pleasure of the noble prince to meet his
lance.
"No time like the present, Sir Knight," replied the gallant Tartar, who
was arrayed in armour of rare and curious workmanship, studded all over
with gold and precious gems.
"It were a pity to slay so brave a prince," thought Saint David; "yet
for the honour of my country, than which no nobler exists, as also for
my own, than whom no..." (what Saint David thought need not be
repeated). "If he presses me it must be done."
The trumpets sounded, the steeds sprang forward, the ground trembled
beneath their feet, clouds of dust arose in the air; terrific was the
shock, but both Knights kept their seats, though both were sorely
pressed. Again they charged, with a like result. A third time they
met, and Saint David felt that he was reeling in his saddle; but
recovering himself by a mighty effort, he prepared for another and more
desperate encounter. Little wotted the proud son of the great Emperor
of all the Tartars with what a doughty Champion he had to contend;
little thought he of the gallant heroes that far-distant land of Cambria
was able to produce. Shaking his spear, he shouted loudly to Saint
David to prepare himself for an overthrow. The Welsh Knight only
grasped his own spear the tighter in consequence, and pressed his knees
the firmer against his charger's sides.
"And the Prince expects that he is going to throw my master, does he?"
observed the faithful Owen. "Let him beware of Saint David; I may tell
him he has borne down to the ground twelve as good men as he is, with
one thrust of his lance, before now."
The trumpets sounded, and the Tartar Prince and the Champion of Wales
met in the middle of the lists. Terrific was the encounter; the spear
of the Tartar Prince was shivered into a thousand fragments; but the
Welsh Knight, with true gallantry, let his fall by his side, and grasped
his battle-axe, that they might light on equal terms. Already, however,
had the spear inflicted a desperate wound on the Prince's side; but his
pride would not let him yield. Now sparks of fire flew thickly around
them from the extraordinary rapidity of their strokes, so that they
appeared to be fighting in the midst of a furnace (so Owen the faithful
Squire ever afterwards averred), till at length Saint David's axe
descended with force so terrific on the helm of the Tartar Prince that
he clove it in two, nor did the cruel weapon stop till it had pierced
the brain of the hapless heir to the throne of the great Emperor of
Tartary.
When the spectators beheld what had occurred, loud cries of grief,
anger, and dismay rent the air; the great Emperor and all his courtiers,
from the highest to the lowest, crying louder than anyone else. The
lists were immediately broken up, and the Emperor, ordering the Welsh
Knight to be brought before him, retired into his palace. The obsequies
of that precious jewel of Tartary, now dimmed by death, being concluded,
the Emperor, having ceased his woeful lamentations and sad sighs, thus
addressed the Welsh Champion:--
"Know that there dwells on the borders of Tartary a mighty Magician,
Ormandine by name who holds an enchanted castle and garden, within the
magic walls of which whoever enters never again returns. Now truly,
although thou deservest death for what thou hast done, yet if thou wilt
adventure into the Magician's domains, and bring hither his head, I
grant thee not only life, but therewithal the crown of Tartary after my
death."
This strange adventure highly pleased the noble Champion of Wales, and
he expressed himself ready forthwith to depart about it. On which the
Emperor bound him by his oath of knighthood, and by the love he bore his
native country, never to follow any other adventure till he had
performed the promise he now had given.
In three days he and the faithful Owen, having made all preparation,
were ready to set out.
Travelling eastward for many a weary day, though conversing pleasantly
to beguile the way, they at length reached the confines of a dreadful
forest, the trees twisting and twining in every direction, and briars
and creepers of all sorts, with long thorns and hooks, hanging from all
the branches. Mysterious flames seemed to be bursting forth, wavering
and flickering in the dark recesses of the forest, while amid the boughs
flew birds of evil omen, night-owls, and ravens, and bats, and other
winged things of hideous form, with harsh and croaking voices. Within
this forest, so Saint David had learned, stood the castle of the
Magician Ormandine.
"My faithful Owen," he exclaimed, "by my honour and my oath of
knighthood, I am bound to enter and to traverse this strange and woeful
wood; but do you wait my return without, and if I never do return, go to
my kinsmen, in our native land, and tell them all about my sad and
melancholy end."
The faithful Owen, on hearing these words, burst into tears, and
replied: "My long-loved honoured Master, if there were ten thousand
forests, and if in each thrice ten thousand ill-doing necromancers
lived, and if through each you had to fight your way, I would remain
steadfast by your side, and fight as long as arm, and hand, and sword
could do their work."
"Then onward into this dreadful forest, my faithful Owen, let us go!"
exclaimed Saint David, drawing his sword, and beginning to hew away at
the creepers and briars which impeded their progress. In this labour he
was ably seconded by the faithful Owen; and thus, by slow degrees, they
worked their onward way. As they proceeded, the shouts and shrieks
increased, the sky overhead was filled with lurid meteors, and hideous
and ill-omened birds flew thickly around their heads, screeching their
terrific notes into the ears of the adventurous strangers.
"Few things worth having can be obtained without difficulty and
perseverance," exclaimed Saint David, as he went on cutting and cutting
away at the creepers. "As to all the hooting, and the screeching, and
crying which assail our ears, it cannot hurt us if we take no heed to
it. Few noble enterprises have ever been undertaken without numbers of
people, like those hideous night-owls, endeavouring to hoot them down."
Thus manfully cutting and hewing away, they at length came in sight of
the dark and frowning, damp, and moss-overgrown walls of an ancient
castle. Near it was a huge rock, still more damp and moss-covered than
the castle-walls. In this rock, by magic art, was enclosed a sword, the
hilt being the only part which could be seen. It was of steel work,
engraven curiously, and set with jaspers, sapphires, and other precious
gems. Around the pommel was engraven, in golden letters, the following
words:--
"By magic spells remain most firmly bound,
The world's strange wonder unknown by anyone,
Till that a knight within the north be found
To pull the sword from out this rock of stone:
Then end my charms, my magic arts and all,
By whose strong hand sage Ormandine must fall."
"A northern knight!--that must mean me," exclaimed Saint David.
"Undoubtedly, I am destined to pull the magic sword from out of that
rock. See how I'll do it!" On this, dismounting from his steed, he
grasped hold of the hilt, and began to pull and pull away right
manfully; but in vain he pulled, and tugged, and hauled; not a hundredth
part of an inch had he drawn forth of the sword, but, still persevering,
he would not let go. At length, the faithful Owen entreated that he
might be allowed to come and help. Then Knight and Squire tugged and
tugged away, but still the sword would not move. Next, putting both
their hands to the huge hilt, and their feet against the rock, they
bethought them most surely that they would move it. Scarcely, however,
had they in that guise begun to pull, than there arose around them
fearful shouts of mocking laughter, and, the gates of the castle opening
wide, twelve hideous dwarfs, with faces black as coal, and bodies
horribly deformed, issued forth, and bearing in their hands some iron
chains, which clanged as they moved, approached, with grinning mouths
and threatening gestures, the Knight and his Squire.
Saint David and the faithful Owen would fain have let go the richly
gemmed hilt of the magic sword, but when they strove to do so they found
their hands clinched firmly to it. Now they struggled as much to free
their hands as before they had to draw out the sword. But in vain was
all their tugging and struggling.
The dwarfs stood round awhile to enjoy their dismay, and then throwing
the iron chains around them, they bound them in fetters which no earthly
power could undo, and carried them away, helpless as infants in their
nurses' arms, to the magic castle. There, in the centre of an iron hall
of vast dimensions and sombre hue--the only light emitted from a lurid
torch burning at the further end--on iron beds, of which a countless
number appeared ranged around, lay writhing the victims which the fell
Magician's cruelty had left bound. There, for many years, till the full
term of seven was accomplished, we, too, will leave them, daily visited
by the Enchanter Ormandine, who came to mock at, and gloat over their
misery.
"Ah! ah!" he exclaimed, with a voice croaking like ten thousand frogs,
and loud as thunder, "you came to cut off my head, and carry the gory
trophy to the Emperor; but now you find, my friends, you've caught a
Tartar."
Notwithstanding, however, this conduct of the Enchanter, his chief
captive was not so miserable as he supposed. A kind fairy all the time
watched over him; and as Saint David lay on his couch she sent four of
her attendant spirits, in the form of damsels, of no mean beauty, who
tended him with the gentlest care, and brought him fruits and other
luxuries, which they offered whenever he awoke, and then sang him to
sleep again with their sweet voices, so that his time passed far more
agreeably than would certainly otherwise have been the case, or the
Enchanter had any idea of.