OF THE LADY BELGÉ
While the two knights tarried at the court of Queen Mercilla, being
entertained by her in the most liberal fashion, there came two youths
from a foreign land, praying for help for their mother, the Lady Belgé.
It was a piteous story that they told before the Queen Mercilla and all
the knights and ladies of her court. The Lady Belgé had been in former
days among the most fortunate of women. She had to husband a most worthy
and noble prince, of wide dominions and great wealth; she had also a
very fair progeny, even seventeen sons, fair children, and of great
promise. Anyone who saw them in those days would surely have said that
not Niobé herself, before she moved the wrath of Apollo and Diana, was
more blessed in her progeny. Now the beginning of troubles to this
honourable lady was that her husband died in his prime, before any of
his children had come to such an age that they could fill his place. And
because the times were ill-suited to a woman’s rule, she was constrained
to look for someone who should give her help and protection. Now there
was in those parts a monstrous creature, Geryoneo by name, son of that
Geryon who was slain by Hercules. He was terrible to look upon, and
marvellously strong, for he had three bodies joined in one, the legs and
arms of three men, as it were, to help him in the fighting. He, feigning
himself to be just and kind, proffered his service to the Lady Belgé
while she was yet in the first trouble of her widowhood, undertaking to
defend her against all enemies both from within and from without. This
proffer she gladly accepted, and he, for a time, kept the promise which
he had made well and loyally. But having established himself in the
country, and Belgé having given into his hands all the power, he began
to bear himself most cruelly. Many wrongs did he do to this most unhappy
lady, but of all the wrongs the worst was this, that he took of her
children, one after another, to offer up in sacrifice to a horrible idol
which he had made of his father Geryon. Twelve had he taken, one by one,
so that now there were left to the unhappy mother but five only. And
now, all other hope having been lost, she bethought her of the gracious
Queen Mercilla, and sent her two eldest sons to entreat her help.
When they had told their story there was for a while silence in the
court, no one caring to take this adventure upon himself. And when
Prince Arthur saw that no one offered himself, he stood forth and said:
“Grant me leave, gracious queen, to succour this distressed lady!”
“Readily do I grant it,” said the queen. Thereupon he began straightway
to prepare himself for his journey, for he would not lose time; even on
the morrow would he start on this adventure. And so it was. So soon as
the next morning came the prince set forth, not without gifts from the
queen. Sir Artegall he left to follow his own business, but the two
young sons of the Lady Belgé went with him, guiding him on his way.
It was but a short journey to the place where the Lady Belgé dwelt. The
tyrant had shut her out from the cities of her land, and from all the
pleasant spots; she had her abode in the midst of marshes and fens, and
was glad to find shelter in them from the cruelty of her oppressor. In
such a dismal region did Prince Arthur find her, living quite alone, for
her children had left her, seeking safety elsewhere. And she herself,
when she caught sight of a man clad in armour, made ready to fly. But
then, spying her own two sons, she took heart, and looked up joyfully,
for she knew that the stranger was come to give her help. Then she threw
her arms round the necks of the two lads as they knelt before her,
crying, “Oh, my sweet boys, now I seem to live again, so joyful a thing
is it to see you! Surely the sun shines brighter than its wont, thanks
to your coming and to the presence of this noble knight.” Then turning
to Prince Arthur she said: “Noble sir, who have taken all this trouble
to help a miserable woman, may heaven reward you for your goodness.
Reward have I none to give, for all that is left to me is bare life, and
that life so full of misery that it is more like to a lingering death!”
The prince was not a little moved at these sorrowful words, and sought
to comfort her. “Take heart, dear lady,” he said, “for help is at hand,
and these, your troubles, will have an end. But now come with me, and
find some spot where you may more conveniently dwell than in this
miserable place.”
“Ah sir,” she answered, “to what place shall I go? The enemy dwells in
my palaces, my cities are sacked, my towers are levelled with the
ground, and what were abodes of men are fields where the wild flowers
grow. Only these marshes, the abode of efts and frogs, are left to me.”
“Nay, good lady,” answered the prince, “think better things than these.
We will find some place to harbour us. And if it yield not itself
willingly, then will we compel it; for all that your adversary may do,
we will purchase it with spear and shield; and if not, then the open
field shall give us welcome; earth has a lodging for all its creatures.”
With such words did the prince encourage her, so that she made ready to
go with him.
They set out therefore and came to a city which once had been the Lady
Belgé’s own, but had been taken from her by her enemy. He had pulled
down its stately towers, closed its harbour, marred the trade of its
merchants, and brought its people to poverty. And he had built a great
fort from which he dominated the place. For a while the city had
resisted his tyranny, but had now submitted itself to him, so purchasing
life, but losing all else that is worth the having. Many things did it
suffer from his tyranny, but of all that it endured the worst was this,
that it was compelled to offer sacrifices of human life to a hideous
idol which the tyrant had set up in a chapel which he had built and
adorned with costliest fittings of gold and ivory. In this city he had
put a strong garrison, and in command of this garrison he had set a
seneschal, a very stalwart knight, who had vanquished hitherto all the
knights that had ventured to come against him. He had vanquished them,
and when he had them in his power he had dealt with them in the most
shameful fashion.
[Illustration: Prince Arthur slaying the Seneschal.]
When the Lady Belgé knew the place, she said to the prince, “Oh, sir,
beware what you venture; very many knights have been undone at this
place.” To this warning he paid no heed, but riding up to the wall of
the city, called to the watchmen, “I challenge to single combat the
seneschal of this fortress.” Nor did the man delay to come, but donning
his armour, rode forth from the city gate. The two combatants met in
full tilt in the open field, charging each the other with his spear full
upon the shield. But the spear of the seneschal made no way, of so pure
and well-refined a metal was the prince’s shield. Broken was it into
pieces without number. But the spear of the prince passed through the
pagan’s cuirass, and made a deep wound in his body, so that he fell from
his horse to the ground. There the prince left him to lie, for he was
dead almost before he touched the ground, and rode straight to the
fortress seeking entrance. But as he rode he spied three knights
advancing towards him at the top speed of their horses. All three
charged him at once, all aiming their spears at one place in his armour.
But the prince did not swerve from his straight seat in his saddle, no,
not by a hair’s-breadth. Firm as a tower he sat, and with his spear he
smote that one of the three who had the middle place. Nor was his
smiting in vain, for he drove the spear through the shield and through
the side of the man, so that he fell dead straight-way on his
mother-earth. When his fellows saw how easily he had been overcome, they
fled away as fast as their steeds could carry them. But the prince
followed yet faster, and overtook them hard by the city gate. There, as
they hasted to enter, one hindered the other, and the prince slew the
hindmost. The third, striving to shut the gate in his adversary’s face,
was hindered by the carcase of his companion, for it lay in the way. So
he fled into the hall which stood at the entering in of the gate, hoping
so to save himself, but the prince following hard after him, slew him
there. When they that were left of the garrison saw how it had gone with
these three, they were sore afraid, and fled in great terror, escaping
by a postern door. When the prince found no more to oppose him, he
returned to the Lady Belgé, and brought her into the city, her two sons
being with her. Many thanks did she render for the good service which he
had done her.
When the tidings of what had befallen the seneschal and his knights came
to the sultan, he was carried out of himself with rage. Nevertheless
there was something of fear mingled with his rage, for his conscience
smote him with the thought that the recompense of his evil deeds was at
hand. Nevertheless he comforted himself with this: “There is but one of
them, and he cannot always prevail.” Therefore he armed himself: also he
took with him all the followers that he had, and marched to the gate of
the city, and there demanded entrance, saying, “Yield me up this place
straightway, for it is my own.”
To this summons the prince made no answer, but rode forth through the
gate, ready armed for battle. And being on the farther side he said,
“Are you he that has done all this wrong to the noble Lady Belgé,
exiling her from her own land in such fashion that all the world cries
shame on you?”
The tyrant answered, “I stand on my own right; what I have done, that
will I justify!” So saying he ran furiously at the prince, beating upon
his armour with a great battle-axe as if he would have chopped it in
pieces. So fierce was his onset that the prince was constrained to give
place awhile. So heavy were his strokes, one had thought they would have
riven a rock asunder. Also he had the advantage of his threefold form.
Three pairs of hands he had, and he could shift his weapon from one to
the other as occasion served. So crafty was he and so nimble, that an
adversary scarce could know where and when he should defend himself. But
the prince was his match and more. Ever he watched the motion of his
hands, and parried the blow wherever it might fall. And the tyrant,
being thus baffled again and again, roared for very rage, till, at the
last, gathering up all the strength of the three bodies into one stroke,
he thought to fell his adversary to the ground. What had happened had
the stroke come upon the man none can say, but it lighted on the horse
and brought him to the ground. So now the prince was constrained to
fight on foot, and the giant laughed aloud to think that he had him at a
disadvantage. But the fortune of the fight went not so. Now this arm and
now that did the prince shear away with his good sword, and he himself
was sheltered safe under his shield; so faultless was its temper, that
no blow could shatter it. And ever the giant was more and more carried
away by his rage, till, at the last, offering his whole side to the
attack of the prince, he was brought to the ground a corpse, nay, three
corpses, for all were smitten to death by the one stroke, and lay a
bloody heap upon the plain.
All this while the Lady Belgé watched the fortunes of the fight from the
city wall, with her two sons standing on either hand. And when she saw
the issue she hastened to greet him; the people of the city also, who
had waited to see to whom the victory should fall, hastened to do him
homage. Right glad were they to be rid of the giant’s tyranny.
When the Lady Belgé had rendered the prince her thanks, which he
received with due modesty—“’Tis not the strength nor courage of the
doer,” said he, “but the justice of his deed that should be looked
to”—she said: “O noble sir, you have freed me from my chief foe;
nevertheless there remains yet something to be done. I pray you not to
stay your victorious arms till you have rooted out all that remains of
this vile brood, and established my peace for ever.”
“Tell me, lady,” he answered, “what is this that remains?”
“Sir,” she answered, “in this temple hard by there is, as you have
heard, a monstrous idol which this tyrant set up, and to which he
offered up sacrifices, taking, alas! of my dear children, and many
children also of this people. Now in a cavern underneath this idol there
lies a most hideous monster, which is wont to feed upon the flesh of
these sacrifices. No man, they say, has ever looked upon its shape, so
fearful is it, and lived.”
When the prince heard this he was occupied with a great desire to deal
with this same monster, and demanded that the queen should show him the
place where it abode. “It is beneath the altar,” said she; and he
uncovered his shield, for the need was such as to demand the help. The
idol he saw, but not the monster. Then he took his sword, and with the
naked blade he struck three times, as if in defiance, and at the third
time the monster came from out its hiding-place. Hideous it was to see,
huge of size, as long, it seemed, as the whole chapel, with the face of
a woman and the body of a dog; its claws were like to lion’s claws; it
had a tail with a deadly sting, and eagle’s wings. Nevertheless, for all
its strength, it was dismayed to see the knight, and especially the
burning brightness of his shield. It would have fled again to its
hiding-place, but that the prince would not suffer. Seeing, then, that
it had to fight, the monster flew at the prince’s shield, and caught it
with its claws, purposing either to break it, or, if that might not be,
to wrench it out of his hands. Long did they struggle together, but at
the last the prince, with a stroke of his sword, shore off the monster’s
claws. Exceeding loud was the bellowing which it made, seeming to make
the whole chapel rock to its foundations. Next it struck at the prince
with its great tail, and well-nigh brought him to the ground; but before
it could strike a second blow, he had severed the last joint with his
sword. Last of all, it raised itself on its great wings and flew at his
head; doubtless it had hurt him sore but that he held his shield
between. While he so warded off the attack, he struck full at the
monster’s belly, and so did it to death.
Great was the rejoicing in the city when the people knew that the
creature which had oppressed them so long was slain. They crowned the
prince with bays, and led him through the streets with solemn pomp.
After this he tarried awhile in the city, establishing Queen Belgé on
her throne, and setting all things in due order, till the time came when
he had to depart for the completing of his task.