OF BRITOMART AND ARTEGALL
Britomart grew not a little weary of these strivings of knights and
dames. Therefore she departed, taking with her the Lady Amoret, for she
was still bent on finding the Knight of the Mirror. An unlucky maid she
was, in truth, thus seeking one who had been her adversary, to whom she
had been so near, though she knew it not. Great was her grief, and great
also her toil, for neither grief nor toil did she spare, thinking that
could she find him, there would be both an end of her own toil and a
solace for her grief. The gentle Amoret also, who was her companion, had
a sorrow of her own, for she sought for her Scudamore; but he, unhappy
man, had his heart full of hatred and revenge. For that evil hag, whose
name was Até or Strife, had poisoned it with suspicion. The very one who
had best served him, he hated most, even Britomart. Neither could
Glaucé, for she went with him, serving him as a squire, abate his rage,
for all that she could say.
And now, as though the evil counsels of Strife had not wrought trouble
enough for him, he must needs put another burden on his soul. As they
journeyed on, the night came upon them unawares, very heavy with cloud
and rain. They, seeking some place where they might find shelter,
perceived upon a steep hillside what seemed to be a poor man’s cottage.
And underneath there ran a little stream, but the water was muddy and
thick, and had an evil smell. As they came near they heard the sound of
hammers, and judged that it must be a blacksmith’s forge. Entering in,
they found the goodman of the place busy with his work. He was of a mean
and wretched aspect, spent, it would seem, with weariness. His eyes were
hollow, and his cheeks fallen in, like to one who had been many months
in a prison cell; his face was begrimed with smoke and his beard ragged,
as if neither comb nor shears had ever passed upon it. Rude were his
garments, and hanging in rags, and his hands were blistered with
burning, with nails long left unpared. Care was his name, and his trade
was the working of wedges of iron. To what purpose they could serve,
neither he nor anyone knew. Such are the idle doubts and fears which
Care drives into the hearts of men. Nor was it he alone that was busy
with this toil; six stout workers stood about the forge, all with huge
hammers in their hands, which they plied in order. Much did Sir
Scudamore wonder to see their work; but when he had watched it awhile,
he asked them of its purpose, saying, “What make you?” But they answered
not a word, nor did they hold their hands for a moment; the bellows blew
like to a cold blast from the north, and the din of the hammers ceased
not.
When the knight saw that no one answered, he laid himself down upon the
floor, seeking to rest his weary limbs; Glaucé did the like; and sore
was her need of rest, for she was old and feeble, and they had journeyed
that day a long and weary way. She slept indeed, but to Sir Scudamore
there came no sleeping. Now he would lie on this side, now on that; now
he lay in one place, now in another. Anon he would rise from his place,
and then lie down again. But every change was to no purpose, and every
place seemed full of pain. Also the dogs howled and barked all the night
long, and the cocks crowed, and the owls hooted; and if by chance
slumber came down upon his eyes, then one of the workers smote his
headpiece with a hammer, for they indeed rested not all the night. As
morning drew near, he fell into a sleep, so utterly wearied was he, but
sleep was worse than waking, for it brought evil thoughts of those whom
he was most bound to love and trust.
The next day Sir Scudamore and Glaucé, serving him as his squire,
started betimes from the house of Care, for his was the dwelling where
they had spent the night. After a while they espied a knight sitting
beside a wood, while his horse grazed in the field hard by. The man
mounted, so soon as he saw them, and rode forward, as did also Sir
Scudamore. But when the two were near enough that each could discern
what arms the other wore, the Knight of the Wood lowered his spear and
turned his horse aside, saying, “Gentle Scudamore, pardon me, I pray
you, that I had unknowingly almost trespassed against you!”
“I blame you not,” answered Sir Scudamore; “such happenings may well be
to knights who seek for adventures. But, sir, as you call me by my name,
may I be bold enough to ask you yours?”
The other made answer: “I pray you pardon me if I withhold my name for a
time; the time serves not that I should make it known. May it please you
to call me the _Savage Knight_, for thus I am commonly known.”
Sir Scudamore said: “This place seems to suit well the arms which you
are pleased to wear. But tell me, have you any special purpose to serve
that you abide in this place?”
“Sir,” replied the other, “be it known to you that a stranger knight did
me but the other day a great shame and dishonour, and I wait till I can
take vengeance on him.”
“Tell me,” answered Sir Scudamore, “who it is that wronged you.”
“His name,” said the Savage Knight, “is unknown, yet he himself is known
to many, especially by the ebony spear which he carries. It was but the
other day that with this spear he overthrew all that met him in the
tourney, and reft from me the honour of the day; not only so, for of
these things a knight may not complain, but he took from me the fairest
lady that ever was, and withholds her still.”
Then Sir Scudamore knew that he spoke of Britomart, who, as he thought,
had taken from him his love. All his heart was full of rage, and he
cried out: “Now, by my head, this is not the first time of this knight’s
playing an unknightly part, for I know him by this same spear which he
bears. From me also did he carry away my love. If you purpose to take
vengeance on him, I will give you all the help that I can.” So these two
agreed to join together in wreaking their wrath on the Knight of the
Ebony Spear, that is to say, on Britomart.
While they were communing together on this matter, they saw in the
distance a knight riding slowly towards them, somewhat strangely
attired, and bearing strange arms, whom approaching they perceived to be
the very one of whom they were speaking.
Then said Sir Scudamore: “I beseech you, Sir Savage Knight, that as I
was first wronged, so I may first take vengeance. And if I fail, then
the lot comes to you.”
[Illustration: Sir Scudamore overthrown by Britomart.]
To this the other gave his assent. Thereupon Sir Scudamore charged at
her with all his might and at his horse’s top speed, which she
perceiving, made herself ready, and gave him so rough a welcome that she
smote to the ground both horse and man; and this so strongly, that
neither had any mind to rise therefrom. This Sir Artegall perceiving,
felt in himself a yet greater anger than before, and laying his lance in
rest, charged also with all his strength. But he also was laid upon the
ground, for there was nothing that could withstand the enchanted spear.
Nevertheless he fared better than his fellow, in that he rose lightly
from the ground, and drawing his sword, leapt fiercely at his adversary.
So sore were his strokes, that though she was on horseback, she was
constrained to give place before him. As they turned this way and that,
it chanced that a blow which Sir Artegall aimed at the Princess,
glancing down the corslet which she wore, lighted on the back of her
horse, wounding him so sorely upon the back, in the rear of the saddle,
that she was compelled to alight. Not a whit was she dismayed at this
mischance, and casting down her enchanted spear, betook herself to use
sword and shield. And now the fortune of the fight changed somewhat, for
he was not a little spent by long fighting on foot, and she, having been
mounted hitherto, had the advantage. Hence it followed that she drove
him backwards, and even, so heavy were her blows, wounded him through
his coat of mail. And now behold! another change. She was over-hasty in
her assault, and her breath began to fail; and he on the other hand
reserved his strength, and dealt his blows as thick as the hailstones
fall upon a roof—unhappy man, who came so near to slaying the fairest
creature in all the world! Still was the battle waged between these two,
but ever Sir Artegall grew the stronger and Britomart the weaker. At
last he dealt a stroke that, had it been aimed aright, had surely gone
near to slay her; but, by good chance, it did but shear away the visor
of her helmet, so that her face could plainly be seen, somewhat reddened
indeed by long toil, and with the sweat standing on it in great drops,
but yet fair beyond all comparison. And at the same time her hair, its
band being broken, fell down as it were a river of gold flowing about
her. Already had the knight lifted his hand to strike again; but when he
saw the fair face and golden hair his arm was, as it were, benumbed, his
sword dropped from his hand, and he himself fell upon his knees.
“Surely,” he said to himself, “this is some goddess that I see before
me.” She stood, indeed, in great wrath, for she had been in sore
straits, and anger ever follows close on fear, and made as if she would
strike him, but he could do nothing but ask for pardon. Nor was Sir
Scudamore less amazed, for he had by this time recovered from his swoon,
when he saw the sight.
And now Glaucé, glad at heart to see again the mistress whom she had
missed so long, drew near, and made her a reverence, saying: “Truly I
rejoice to see you safe after so many toils and dangers. And now, dear
daughter, as you love me, grant these knights a truce.”
“So be it,” Britomart made answer. Thereupon they lifted up their
visors, so that their faces could be seen. And when Britomart looked on
the face of Artegall, behold it was the very countenance of the knight
whom she had seen long since in the magic mirror! And as she saw it her
haughty spirit abated. She could never again lift hand against him; nay,
when she thought to use her tongue, and reproach him with angry words,
even her tongue failed her.
And now Sir Scudamore, greatly rejoiced to know that all his fears and
suspicions were false, drew near and said: “Surely it makes me glad, Sir
Artegall, to see you who were wont to despise all dames, bow yourself
before one in so lowly a fashion.” And when Britomart heard the name of
Artegall, her heart leaped within her breast, nor for all her feigning
could she hide the gladness which she felt. Then said Glaucé again:
“Gentle knights, be thankful for the happy chance which has brought so
strange an ending to your fears and troubles. Here is no thief that
would take away from you the ladies whom you love. And you, Sir
Artegall, who call yourself the Savage Knight, count it no shame that a
maid has so bravely held her own against you, and strive no longer
against love, which is the very crown of knighthood. And you, fair lady,
turn away your wrath; if there is fire in your heart, let it be the fire
of love.” Britomart blushed deep to hear these words, and Sir Artegall
was glad at heart.
And now Sir Scudamore, who was divided between hope and fear concerning
his Amoret, spoke, saying: “Pardon me if I ask you for tidings of my
Amoret. I know that you delivered her at no small peril from the
Enchanter’s prison. Where is she? for I would seek her, as is, indeed,
my bounden duty.”
Britomart answered: “Sir Knight, it grieves me much that I cannot tell
you what you seek to know. After I had delivered her from the Enchanter,
as you know, I kept her safe. And truly there never was companion more
dear to me than she. But one day, as we travelled, we lighted from our
steeds by the wayside, to rest awhile. Then I laid myself down to sleep;
but when I woke from my sleep, she was nowhere to be seen. I called her;
I sought her far and near; but nowhere could I find her, or hear tidings
of her.”
When Sir Scudamore heard these words, he was greatly troubled, and stood
like to a man who has received a mortal blow. But Glaucé said: “Be not
discouraged, fair sir; hope still for the best; why should you trouble
yourself in vain?”
Little comfort did he take of these words, but when Britomart said,
“Truly you have great cause for trouble; yet take comfort, by the light
of day I swear that I will never leave you till I find and give her back
to you,” then was he not a little comforted, for he had a great trust
that what Britomart promised she would surely perform.
Then they all journeyed together to a castle that was near, Sir Artegall
being their guide. There they rested till their wounds were healed and
their strength repaired. Meanwhile Sir Artegall paid court to Britomart,
who, after much persuasion, though, indeed, she was not unwilling in her
heart, consented to take him for her husband. Nevertheless their
marriage could not be yet, because Sir Artegall was bound on a great
adventure which he must needs carry through. Nor could she refuse to
allow him to depart, seeing that his honour was bound in the matter.
Only it was agreed that when three months had waxed and waned, then he
should return. So the knight departed, Britomart going with him for a
part of his journey. Full loath was she to leave him, finding ever new
occasions for delay. And when these were all spent, then with a heavy
heart did she return to the castle, for she also had business in hand,
even to seek together with Sir Scudamore for the lost Amoret.