THE STORY OF FLORIMELL
It has been related before how Sir Guyon and Prince Arthur parted
company with Britomart with the purpose of relieving a fair lady in
distress. Now the name of this same lady was Florimell. She was courted
by many knights of high degree, but her love was given to Sir Marinell,
the same that was overthrown by Britomart in the passage by the sea; but
he, on his part, had no thought for her, being mindful of his mother’s
counsel that he should hold himself aloof from all womankind. So fast
did Florimell fly, for she was in grievous fear, that the two knights
who followed with intent to give her help, could by no means overtake
her. After a while the strength of the white palfrey on which she rode
wholly gave out, and she, alighting, made her way on foot, a thing which
she had never done in all her life before, so delicately bred was she.
But need teaches many lessons, this being chief among them, that Fortune
holds the lots of all in equal scales, and has no respect of persons. So
travelling, she came to a hillside, from which, looking down, she espied
a valley thickly covered with trees, and through the tree-tops a thin
vapour of smoke issuing forth. “Here,” she said to herself, “is a
dwelling of man, where haply I may find shelter and rest.” So she bent
her steps thither, and after a while reached the place, being now sorely
spent with trouble and weariness. A dwelling there was, but of the
humblest kind, a little cottage, built with reeds and wattled with sods
of grass. In this there dwelt a witch woman. Most sparely did she live,
careless of all common things, for her mind was wholly given to her art,
for the better and more secure practice of which she lived far from all
neighbours.
When Florimell came in the witch was sitting on the ground, and was so
busied with one of her enchantments that she was taken wholly unawares.
At the first she was overcome with fear, for she would not that any
should surprise her while she was busy with her art. Then, her fear
changing to anger, as, indeed, it is commonly wont to do, she cried in a
loud voice: “Stranger, what mischief has brought you hither? Here, of a
truth, you will find no welcome.”
Florimell answered: “Mother, be not angry with a simple maid, who has
been brought to your dwelling by hard chance, and asks only for leave to
rest awhile.” And as she spoke the tears came trickling down her cheeks,
and she heaved a sigh, so softly and sweetly, that there could be no
creature so hard and savage that would not have pitied her. Even the
witch, for all that her soul was given to mischief, was much moved at
the sight, and sought to comfort her in such rude fashion as she knew,
for even in her the sight of such beauty and virtue moved the hidden
sense of womanhood. So, wiping the tears from the damsel’s eyes, she
bade her rest awhile. This she was nothing loath to do, and sat down
upon the dusty floor, as a bird spent with tempest cowers upon the
ground. After a while she began to set aright the garments that she
wore, and to put in order her golden hair. All this the witch woman saw
with wonder that still waxed greater and greater. “Is this a mortal
maid,” she said to herself, “or one of Diana’s train?”
This same witch woman had a son, very dear to her, and in a sort the
comfort of her age, but a lazy, evil-minded loon, always idling away his
time, and loath to follow any honest trade. He was abroad when Florimell
came to the cottage, and when he returned, he was not a little amazed to
see so fair a creature sitting by his mother’s hearth. But the maiden
bore herself so meekly, fitting herself to the low condition of the
place, that she soon ceased to be strange to mother and son. This was a
thing to be desired; yet it had in it this discomfort, that the witch’s
son began to love her. He would bring gifts for her, such as birds which
he taught to speak her name, and squirrels which, he said, were as
fellow-slaves with himself, and flowers to make garlands for her head.
All these she graciously received. Nevertheless she was not a little
troubled in her heart, for she could not but perceive the love which the
young man bore her. Therefore she determined in herself to depart.
By this time her palfrey was well rested from its weariness, for,
indeed, the young man, the son of the witch, had tended it with all
care. Early, therefore, one morning she put its strappings on the beast,
and so departed.
Great was the anger of the witch and her son when they knew that
Florimell was gone. As for the disappointed lover, his fury passed all
bounds. He beat upon his breast and scratched his face, and tore his
flesh with his teeth. When his mother saw him in so evil a plight, she
did all that she could to comfort him. Tears and prayers she used, and
charms and herbs of might; but all were of no avail. When she saw this,
fearing lest, in his despair, he should bring himself to a violent end,
she said within herself: “I must bring the creature back.” So she called
out of the cave a hideous beast that served her. It was a creature
likest to a hyena, for its back and sides were covered with spots. But
never was seen anything that could be matched with it, so fierce of
aspect was it, and so swift. The witch said to him: “Follow this woman,
and do not leave following till you overtake.”
So the monster followed Florimell, and, as she rode leisurely, soon
overtook her. When she saw him, she set spurs to her palfrey, and he, so
long as he was fresh and full of breath, kept her out of the creature’s
reach. But when his breath failed him, then the monster drew near. This
Florimell perceiving, leapt from her saddle and fled away on her feet.
Now it chanced that she was close to the seashore, and she, being minded
to be drowned, rather than be overtaken by so foul a beast, ran to the
very edge of the waves. There, by good hap, she saw a little shallop
lying, in which the fisherman, an old man and poor, lay asleep, the
while his nets were drying. Into this she leapt, and pushing off the
shallop with an oar, was safe awhile. The monster would not venture on
the sea, for it was not to his liking, and so set out to return to his
mistress the witch, to tell her how his quest had failed. But first he
turned upon the palfrey and rent it.
Scarcely had the beast done this, when there came that way a gallant
knight, Sir Satyrane by name, the same that had befriended the Lady Una
in her distress. He, seeing the palfrey lie dead upon the ground, knew
it for that on which the Lady Florimell had been wont to ride; also he
found the golden girdle which she had been wont to wear, for it had
fallen from her in the haste of her flight. These things greatly
troubled him, and when, looking round, he also saw the monstrous beast
which had pursued her, standing by, his fear was changed to anger, and
he flew upon it and dealt it many blows with all his might. Many wounds
did he give it, causing much blood to pour out of its carcase; but the
beast he subdued not, with such spells had the witch woman fortified it
against all assault. At the last he threw away his sword, for in truth
the steel seemed to avail nothing against the creature’s hide, and
caught it in his arms as if he would have crushed the life out of it;
also he took the girdle of Florimell and bound the beast with it. Never
in truth had it known such constraint, for in a moment all its rage was
quelled, and it followed him meek as a lamb which the shepherd has
rescued from the lion’s mouth. And this, without doubt, it had continued
to do, but for this chance, that Sir Satyrane was called away upon
another adventure. He spied a giantess riding on a dappled grey steed,
holding before her a squire fast bound with chains of wire, and a knight
pursuing her. Therefore he made haste to put himself in her way. She
would have passed him by, but he would not suffer it, running at her
with his spear. Thereupon she was constrained to deal with him, and
would have smitten him with a great mace of iron which she carried in
her hand, and with which she had already slain not a few. But ere she
could deal the blow, his spear came full upon her shield. So great was
the shock, that her horse staggered to and fro; but she was not moved
one whit in her place, nor was the shield broken. Rather the shaft of
the spear was shivered on it, for all it was big and strong. Nor did she
delay to strike him with the mace of iron. Full on his helmet’s crest
she smote him, and that so sturdily that he bowed his head upon his
breast and reeled to and fro like to a drunken man. Which the giantess
perceiving, caught him in her arms, and put him on the saddle before
her, for the squire she had already cast to the ground. Then truly had
Sir Satyrane been in an evil plight, but for the knight that was
pursuing. He, indeed, seeing what had chanced, made the greater haste to
overtake her, but she, not desiring another battle, or because she
especially feared the other knight, threw Sir Satyrane to the ground,
and thus he was delivered. But meanwhile the witch’s monster had
departed.