SIR SATYRANE’S TOURNAMENT
By sundry adventures, which there is no need to set forth in their
place, the girdle of Florimell came into the possession of Sir Satyrane,
who forthwith resolved to hold in honour of it a great tournament. In
this same tournament there should be, so he proclaimed, two contests;
first, a contest of knights, who should joust with each other, so
showing who excelled in strength and courage; second, a contest of fair
ladies, she who should most fittingly wear the said girdle being
adjudged the most excellent.
The beginning of the tournament was that Sir Satyrane came forth from
his pavilion, holding in his hands an ark of gold. This ark he opened
with much solemnity, and drew forth from it the girdle. A wondrously
fair thing it was, curiously embossed with pearls and precious stones;
they were all costly things, but the workmanship was costlier yet. This
he held up for the general view; and all eyes were drawn to it, for
indeed it was a thing greatly to be admired; nor was there one in all
that company but said in his heart: “Happy the knight who shall win so
fair a prize! Happy the dame who shall be deemed to wear it most
fittingly.”
The girdle having been thus displayed in the sight of all the concourse,
the knights disposed themselves for the jousting. And first of all Sir
Satyrane came forth holding in his hand the great spear which he was
wont to wield; no man in those days bore one greater, or, indeed, so
great. He was the challenger, and it became him thus to be first in the
field. Behind him were ranged the knights of Fairyland, owning
allegiance, all of them, to the great Queen Gloriana. On the other side
was ranged a great company of knights, who had come from all parts.
First of these rode up a pagan knight, Sir Bruncheval, surnamed the Bold
(he jousted with Sir Satyrane), whose mastery of arms had been tried in
many battles. Fierce was their onset, so fierce that neither could
resist the other; but both were tumbled on the plain, holding, indeed,
their spears in their hands, but not able to move them so much as a
hair’s-breadth. When Sir Ferramont saw his leader in this plight, he set
spurs to his horse, and rode forth. Against him came out Sir Blandamour,
putting all his strength into his stroke; but his strength availed him
nothing, for he was tumbled on the ground, he and his horse together.
And when Sir Paridell rode forth to his rescue, he fared no better. The
next in turn to contend was Bragadocchio, but the thing was not to his
liking, and he stood still in doubt what he should do, or rather in
fear. Thereupon Sir Triamond, vexed indeed that a brave-seeming knight
should bear himself so basely, but rejoicing in the occasion, rode forth
with his spear in rest, and charged on Sir Ferramont with all his might.
So sure was the stroke, that both man and horse were laid prostrate on
the ground, nor could they lift themselves again for a space. And when
Sir Devon rode forth from the Fairyland array he fared no better; nor
did Sir Douglas, nor Sir Palimord, when in turn they made trial of him.
Either they were stretched on the plain or went sorely wounded.
By this time Sir Satyrane had woke out of the swoon in which he had lain
so long. Looking round, he was sorely dismayed to see the havoc which
Sir Triamond had wrought among the knights of Queen Gloriana. “Truly,”
he said to himself, “I had rather been dead than laid here helpless
while such deeds were done.” Then, gathering strength, he laid hold of
his spear, which lay close beside him; his horse also, by good fortune,
was at hand. Mounting, therefore, he rode forth again to where the brave
Triamond was carrying all before him. Not a man could stand up against
him, so heavy were his strokes, so deadly was his hand. But now there
came a stay to his achievements; Sir Satyrane smote him on the side with
his great spear, and the point made a most grievous wound. So grievous
was it, that though he was not forthwith overthrown, he was fain to
withdraw himself from the field. Then the challengers ranged over the
lists, claiming to be conquerors, and, indeed, no one was ready to take
them in hand. And now the night fell, and the trumpets sounded a
retreat. That day, therefore, Sir Satyrane was adjudged to have won the
prize.
On the second day of the tournament Sir Satyrane rode forth, with Queen
Gloriana’s knights following him, to challenge all comers. And on the
other side also were many famous warriors, eager all of them to win the
prize for himself. But Sir Triamond was not one of these; his wound was
so grievous that it hindered him from making a trial of arms. So he was
constrained to stand aside, but it grieved him sorely. This his close
friend Sir Cambell perceiving, said to himself: “I cannot cure his hurt,
nor undo the thing which has been done; but this I can do; I can win
honour for him.” Therefore he took Sir Triamond’s arms, none knowing,
neither Sir Triamond himself, nor anyone else, for he said to himself:
“If I fare ill in this matter, the blame will not fall on my friend.”
He went therefore to fight, no one doubting that he was the veritable
Triamond. When he was come, he found Sir Satyrane, full of joy and
triumph, for no one was able to stand up against him. At him, therefore,
he charged, with his spear in rest; nor did Sir Satyrane, on his part,
draw back from the encounter. With so great a shock did they meet that
both were driven from their saddles to the ground. Rising, therefore,
they drew both of them their swords, and fought therewith such a fight
as had scarce been seen before in that land. And now Sir Satyrane’s
horse, for, by this time, they had both again mounted their steeds,
chanced to stumble, so that his rider was well-nigh cast to the ground.
This Sir Cambell perceiving, was not slow to seize the occasion, but
dealt him so sore a blow on the crest of his helmet that he fell to the
ground. Then Sir Cambell leapt from his steed, and would have spoiled
him of his arms. But this, which, indeed, is a custom of the battlefield
rather than of the tourney, the knights who were of Sir Satyrane’s party
would not suffer. Hastening to their comrade’s help, they closed his
adversary in so close a ring that though he laid about him most bravely,
yet could he not deliver himself—for what could one against so many? So
he was taken prisoner and led away.
It chanced somehow that the news of what had befallen Sir Cambell came
to Sir Triamond where he lay in his bed. In a moment of time he leapt
therefrom, wholly forgetting his wound, and sought for his armour. He
sought, but he found it not, for indeed, Cambell was wearing it at the
very time. But the arms and armour of Sir Cambell he found. These he
donned without delay, and issued forth to take such chance as might
befall him. There he saw his friend and companion Cambell as he was led
away captive in the midst of a great press of knights, and the sight
moved him to great wrath. He thrust himself into the thickest of the
press, and smote down all that were in his way till he came to where
Cambell was led a prisoner between two knights. Fiercely did he assail
these two, and they, for their own lives’ sake, were constrained to let
him go. Then he, seizing a sword from one of them, laid about him with
all his might, for both his own wrong and the wounding of his friend
stirred a great wrath in him. So these two made great havoc over all the
field, till the trumpet sounded the end of the battle for that day. By
common consent the prize of the day was adjudged to these two, Cambell
and Triamond, but to which of the two was doubtful, for they strove
together, each advancing the other’s cause, so that the matter was
postponed.
On the third and last day of the tournament many valiant deeds were
done, not without great hurt and damage to many that contended in the
field. There might be seen that day full many a shivered shield, and
swords strewn upon the ground, horses also running loose without their
riders, and squires helping their lords who were in evil plight. But,
for the most part, the knights of the Queen fared the better, and among
the knights there was not one that fought with better success than the
brave Sir Satyrane. Now and again his fortune failed him; but ever it
returned again, and he was the best stay and support of his side.
But when it was now past noon, there came forth from the other side a
strange knight whom no one knew. Strange he was and strange was his
disguise, for all his armour was covered with moss from the wood, and
his horse had trappings of oak leaves, and on his shield, which had
ragged edges, was written this motto: _Salvagesse sans Finesse_. He, as
soon as he had come upon the field, charged the first knight that was in
his way. This was the stout Sir Sanglier, a valiant man, well approved
in many battles; but now he was laid low at the very first encounter.
And after him Sir Brianor came to a worse fate, for he was killed
outright. Seven knights, one after the other, he overthrew; and when his
spear was broken, then he worked no less damage with his sword. Shields
and helmets he broke through, and wasted all the array of knights, as a
lion wastes a flock of sheep. So Satyrane and his party were turned to
flight, for, indeed, no man could stand before him. And when they would
find out his name, no one knew it, so that they were constrained to call
him the Savage Knight. But he was in truth Sir Artegall.
It was said by a wise man of old time that no man should be accounted
happy before the end, because it cannot be known what change of fortune
may befall him. And so it proved that day with Sir Artegall. For when
the sun was laid low in the heavens, but before the trumpet had sounded,
there came forth from the ranks of the Queen’s knights a stranger. First
he charged at Sir Artegall and tumbled him backwards over his horse’s
tail, with so heavy a fall that he had small desire to rise again. This
when Sir Cambell saw he charged with all his might; and he, too, could
be seen lying on the plain. In like manner fared Sir Triamond when he
would have avenged his friend’s disgrace. Nor did Sir Blandamour succeed
where these had failed. Many another famous knight was overthrown that
day, yet without loss of honour, for they had to yield to the enchanted
spear of Britomart. So when the trumpet sounded on the third day of Sir
Satyrane’s great tournament, the honour rested with the knights of Queen
Gloriana.