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.