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.