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.