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.