OF SIR ARTEGALL AND GRANTORTO
While these things were doing, Sir Artegall set forth to accomplish his
task, having Talus with him as before. After he had journeyed awhile, he
overtook an old man who was travelling alone, and perceived that he was
the same that had attended the Lady Irene when she came to the court of
Queen Gloriana. He had been a famous knight in his day, but had long
since foregone the use of arms, being stricken with age.
“Hail, Sir Sergis,” he cried, “there lives no truer knight, I know; but
tell me, what is your errand? How fares the Lady Irene? How comes it
that you have left her? Is she in prison? Does she yet live?”
“She lives,” answered the old knight, “but she is in sore trouble.
Trusting to your promise that you would come to be her champion, and do
battle with him who was oppressing her, she came at the appointed time,
but found you not. And now Grantorto has thrown her into prison, and has
appointed her a day, saying that if by that time no champion shall
appear to justify her and prove her clear of the crimes of which she is
accused, she shall suffer death.”
Sir Artegall was sorely troubled to hear these words, knowing that she
suffered these things through his default. “Verily,” he said, “I am to
blame for this fair maiden’s trouble, in that I was not present to
maintain her cause; but, as you know, I was not wholly to blame for that
which hindered me. But tell me, how many days has the tyrant allowed for
the finding of this champion?”
“Ten days he has given,” answered the old knight, “but he knows that
’tis only a form, for he guards all the coasts and approaches by which
such a champion might come. Indeed, he counts her to be already dead.”
“Turn again, dear knight,” said Sir Artegall; “surely, if I live, she
shall have the champion whom she needs within the appointed time!” So
they two went on together.
As they rode they were aware of a great rout of people who seemed to be
looking on at some affray. Coming nearer, they perceived a number of
rude fellows setting on a single knight, and chasing him to and fro as
if they would make him prisoner. And he, on the other hand, sought to
make his way to a lady who might be seen in another part of the field,
holding up her hands and praying for help. Wheresoever he turned they
gave way before him, yet ever returned and renewed their attack, and, so
great were their numbers, pressed him sorely. So harassed was he with
their assailing, that he threw away his shield, a most dishonourable
thing for any knight to do, and one that marks him with shame without
end. When Sir Artegall saw in what an evil plight the man stood, he rode
forward to his help, yet he was himself so rudely assailed that he was
constrained to give place for a while. But when Talus began to use his
iron flail, then the multitude fled for their lives, being scattered as
the wind scatters the chaff on a threshing-floor. When the knight had
given thanks for his deliverance, Sir Artegall said to him:
“What is the occasion of this uproar? Who are you, and who are these
villains that attacked you so furiously?”
The knight answered: “My name is Burbon; I have won honour as a knight,
and have been in good repute till of late trouble has overtaken me. This
lady is by name Fleur de Lys; my love she is, though of late she has
scorned me; I know not whether by her own choice or by constraint of
others. It cannot be denied that she was once betrothed to me of her own
free choice; but a certain tyrant, whom men call Grantorto, won her by
gifts and lying words. This host of villains he sent to take her away
from me by open force.”
Then said Sir Artegall: “I see, Sir Knight, that you have suffered
grievous things, yet not without fault of your own. But let us first rid
you of these villains. That done, we can make a settlement of other
matters.”
This then they did, Talus greatly helping with his flail. But when they
came to the lady, who had been left by them who had taken her prisoner,
they were in no little doubt in what mind she was, for she seemed to be
neither glad nor sorry. One thing was certain, to wit, that she was
wondrous fair and clad in splendid robes. When Sir Burbon, lighting from
his horse, ran to her and would have clasped her in his arms, she turned
from him in high disdain. “Begone,” she cried, “and touch me not.” Then
said Sir Artegall: “Fair lady, you cast a very great blemish on your
beauty, if you change a plighted faith. Is there aught on earth so dear
and so precious as faith and honour? Love surely is dearer than life,
and fame is more to be desired than gold; but a plighted troth is more
to be honoured than even love or fame.” At this rebuke the lady seemed
much abashed, and Sir Burbon, lifting her in his arms, set her on her
steed, nor did she repulse him. So they rode away, but whether wholly
agreed or not, no one can say.
These matters being accomplished, Sir Artegall with Sir Sergis pursued
his journey till they came to the seashore. There by good fortune they
found a ship ready equipped for sailing. This they hired, that it should
take them whither they would, and embarking in it, found wind and
weather serve them so well that in a single day they came to the land
which they sought. There they saw drawn up on the shore great hosts of
men who should hinder them from landing. But they did not for this
forego their purpose. So soon as they approached so near to the shore
that they could see the bottom beneath the waves, Talus leapt from the
ship into the sea. The enemy sought to overwhelm him with stones and
darts, but he heeded them not at all. Wading through the waves he came
to the shore, and once having put his foot upon the land, chased all the
multitude away, even as an eagle chases a flock of doves. The way being
thus made clear, for there was now no one to hinder them, Sir Artegall
and the old knight landed, and made their way to a city that was hard
by. The tyrant Grantorto, being made aware of their coming by some of
those that had fled from Talus, gathered a host of men and came against
them. But these also did Talus discomfit with his flail, pursuing them
till Artegall himself bade him hold his hand, for he would settle the
quarrel in more orderly fashion. Therefore he called a herald and bade
him take a message to King Grantorto to this purport:
“I came not hither to fight against your people, but to maintain the
cause of the Lady Irene against you in single combat. Do you therefore
call your people back that they may suffer no further damage, but fix a
time and place for us two to fight together in the cause of the Lady
Irene.”
That night he pitched his tent outside the city, and would suffer none
to come near him; only Sir Sergis kept him company, and gave such
services as were needful. Now the Lady Irene had not heard of the coming
of Sir Artegall, and this being the day on which, lacking a champion who
should defend her cause, it was appointed for her to die, she arrayed
herself in squalid garments, fit for such occasion, and prepared herself
for her doom. But her mood was changed to joy when, coming to the
appointed place, she found Sir Artegall ready to do battle for her.
And now, the lists having been made ready, Grantorto came forth prepared
for battle. He was clad in armour of iron, with a steel cap, rusty brown
in colour, on his head, and in his hand he carried a huge pole-axe. He
was of mighty stature, standing up as a giant among other men, and
hideous of aspect. Very expert in arms was he, and of great strength; no
man had ever stood against him in fight and held his own.
Then the trumpets sounded and the two met. Fast and furiously did
Grantorto rain his blows upon his adversary. This was his manner of
fighting, to wit, to overbear his foe by the fierceness of his attack,
giving him no respite or breathing-time. But of this Sir Artegall was
well aware, and bore himself accordingly. It was as when a sailor sees a
storm approaching and strikes his sails and loosens his main-sheet. So
did Sir Artegall stoop his head, shunning the great shower of blows.
Small shame it is to stoop if a man shall thereafter raise his head the
higher. For a time, indeed, it might seem that the tyrant would prevail,
so heavy was the shower of blows that he poured upon him, and so many
the wounds which the great pole-axe made even through his armour. But
ere long the occasion came for which the knight had waited. When the
tyrant raised his arm high to strike what should be, he hoped, a mortal
blow, Sir Artegall smote under his guard and drove his sword deep into
his flank, so that the blood gushed forth in a great stream. Meanwhile
the blow of the pole-axe had fallen, and, despite the shield which the
knight had raised to defend his head, had bitten so deep that the giant
could by no means loose it again. Then Sir Artegall let go his shield,
and struck Grantorto on the head with such strength that he brought him
to the ground, and, as he lay, with yet another stroke severed his head
from his body.
Then all the people, glad to be rid of the tyrant, joyfully hastened to
pay their homage to Queen Irene. So she was established on her throne.
Sir Artegall tarried awhile to order all things in peace and justice,
Talus helping much in the seeking out and punishment of offenders.