That night, when every one slept, Duessa stole secretly to the lodgings
of the pagan knight Joyless. She found him wide awake, restless, and
troubled, busily devising how he might annoy his foe. To him she spoke
many untrue words.
“Dear Joyless,” she said, “I am so glad that you have come. I have
passed many sad hours for the sake of Faithless, whom this traitor slew.
He has treated me very cruelly, keeping me shut up in a dark cave; but
now I will take shelter with you from his disdainful spite. To you
belongs the inheritance of your brother, Faithless. Let him not be
unavenged.”
“Fair lady, grieve no more for past sorrows,” said Joyless; “neither be
afraid of present peril, for needless fear never profited any one, nor
is it any good to lament over misfortunes that cannot be helped.
Faithless is dead, his troubles are over; but I live, and I will avenge
him.”
“Oh, but I fear what may happen,” she answered, “and the advantage is on
his side.”
“Why, lady, what advantage can there be when both fight alike?” asked
Joyless.
“Yes, but he bears a charmed shield,” said Duessa, “and also enchanted
armour that no one can pierce. None can wound the man that wears them.”
“Charmed or enchanted, I care not at all,” said Joyless fiercely, “nor
need you tell me anything more about them. But, fair lady, go back
whence you came and rest awhile. To-morrow I shall subdue the Red Cross
Knight, and give you the heritage of dead Faithless.”
[Illustration: Woman with her hand raised standing over a man reclining
on a couch.]
“Wherever I am, my secret aid shall follow you,” she answered, and then
she left him.
At the first gleam of dawn the Red Cross Knight sprang up and dressed
himself for battle in his sun-bright armour. Forth he stepped into the
hall, where there were many waiting to gaze at him, curious to know what
fate was in store for the stranger knight. Many minstrels were there,
making melody to drive away sadness; many singers that could tune their
voices skilfully to harp and viol; many chroniclers that could tell old
stories of love and war.
Soon after, came the pagan knight, Joyless, warily armed in woven mail.
He looked sternly at the Red Cross Knight, who cared not at all how any
living creature looked at him. Cups of wine were brought to the
warriors, with dainty Eastern spices, and they both swore a solemn oath
to observe faithfully the laws of just and fair fighting.
At last, with royal pomp, came the Queen. She was led to a railed-in
space of the green field, and placed under a stately canopy. On the
other side, full in all men’s view, sat Duessa, and on a tree near was
hung the shield of Faithless. Both Duessa and the shield were to be
given to the victor.
A shrill trumpet bade them prepare for battle. The pagan knight was
stout and strong, and his blows fell like great iron hammers. He fought
for cruelty and vengeance. The Red Cross Knight was fierce, and full of
youthful courage; he fought for praise and honour. So furious was their
onslaught that sparks of fire flew from their shields, and deep marks
were hewn in their helmets.
Thus they fought, the one for wrong, the other for right, and each tried
to put his foe to shame. At last Joyless chanced to look at his
brother’s shield which was hanging near. The sight of this doubled his
anger, and he struck at his foe with such fury that the Knight reeled
twice, and seemed likely to fall. To those who looked on, the end of the
battle appeared doubtful, and false Duessa began to call loudly to
Joyless,—
“Thine the shield, and I, and all!”
Directly the Red Cross Knight heard her voice he woke out of the
faintness that had overcome him; his faith, which had grown weak,
suddenly became strong, and he shook off the deadly cold that was
creeping over him.
This time he attacked Joyless with such vigour that he brought him down
upon his knees. Lifting his sword, he would have slain him, when
suddenly a dark cloud fell between them. Joyless was seen no more; he
had vanished! The Knight called aloud to him, but received no answer:
his foe was completely hidden by the darkness.
Duessa rose hastily from her place, and ran to the Red Cross Knight,
saying,—
“O noblest Knight, be angry no longer! Some evil power has covered your
enemy with the cloud of night, and borne him away to the regions of
darkness. The conquest is yours, I am yours, the shield and the glory
are yours.”
Then the trumpets sounded, and running heralds made humble homage, and
the shield, the cause of all the enmity, was brought to the Red Cross
Knight. He went to the Queen, and, kneeling before her, offered her his
service, which she accepted with thanks and much satisfaction, greatly
praising his chivalry.
So they marched home, the Knight next the Queen, while all the people
followed with great glee, shouting and clapping their hands. When they
got to the palace the Knight was given gentle attendants and skilled
doctors, for he had been badly hurt in the fight. His wounds were washed
with wine, and oil, and healing herbs, and all the while lovely music
was played round his bed to beguile him from grief and pain.
While this was happening, Duessa secretly left the palace, and stole
away to the Kingdom of Darkness, which is ruled over by the Queen of
Night. This queen was a friend of her own, and was always ready to help
in any bad deeds. Duessa told her of what had befallen the pagan knight,
Joyless, and persuaded her to carry him away to her own dominions. Here
he was placed under the care of a wonderful doctor, who was able to cure
people by magic, and Duessa hastened back to the House of Pride.
When she got there she was dismayed to find that the Red Cross Knight
had already left, although he was not nearly healed from the wounds
which he had received in battle.
The reason why he left was this. One day his servant, whose name you may
remember was Prudence, came and told him that he had discovered in the
palace a huge, deep dungeon, full of miserable prisoners. Hundreds of
men and women were there, wailing and lamenting—grand lords and
beautiful ladies, who, from foolish behaviour or love of idle pomp, had
wasted their wealth and fallen into the power of the wicked Queen of
Pride.
When the good Red Cross Knight heard this, he determined to stay no
longer in such a place of peril.
Rising before dawn, he left by a small side door, for he knew that if he
were seen he would be at once put to death. To him the place no more
seemed beautiful; it filled him with horror and disgust. Riding under
the castle wall, the way was strewn with hundreds of dead bodies of
those who had perished miserably. Such was the dreadful sight of the
House of Pride.