Britomart, the Warrior Princess, having rescued the fair lady Amoret
from the wicked Enchanter, then started forth with her to find her
husband, the good Knight Scudamour. Riding through a forest, they
alighted to rest, and here Britomart, overcome with weariness, lay down
to sleep.
Amoret, meanwhile, fearing nothing, roamed at pleasure through the wood.
Suddenly from behind, some one rushed out, who snatched her up and bore
her away. This was a huge, hideous savage, who killed and ate all the
beautiful maidens he could get hold of. He carried Amoret fainting in
his arms, right through the forest, till he came to his dwelling, a
horrible cave, far from all people’s hearing. Into this he flung her,
and went off to see if he could secure any other victims.
Amoret was roused by her fall, but when she looked about and found
nothing around her but darkness and horror, she almost fainted again,
and did not know whether she were above or under the ground. Then she
heard some one close by sighing and sobbing, and found this was another
beautiful lady whom the savage had taken prisoner.
Amoret asked her who she was, and the lady told her sad story.
She said her name was Emilia; she was the daughter of a great lord, and
everything went joyously with her till she happened to fall in love with
a gentle youth, a Squire in her father’s household. He was gallant and
worthy enough for any lady to love, but he was not of noble birth like
herself, and her father refused to let her marry him, and was angry with
her for her folly. Nothing, however, would make her alter her mind, and
rather than forsake her faithful Amyas she resolved to leave friends and
family, and fly with him. A meeting-place in the wood was arranged, to
which she came, but there, instead of her gallant Squire, she found the
savage monster, who pounced on her like an eagle, and carried her to his
cave.
While Emilia and Amoret were talking of their troubles, the hideous
villain who was the cause of them came rushing back, rolling away the
stone which he used to stop the entrance, in order that no one might go
out. Directly he entered, Amoret slipped past him, and escaped from the
cave with a loud scream of horror. Fast she fled, but he followed as
swiftly. She did not feel the thorns and thickets prick her tender feet;
neither hedge, nor ditch, nor hill, nor dale could stop her; she
overleaped them all like a deer, and made her way through the thickest
brushwood. And whenever she looked back with anxious eyes and saw the
grisly monster approaching, she quickened her pace, spurred on by fear.
Long she fled thus, and long he followed, and it seemed as if there were
no living aid for her on earth. But it chanced that the glorious
Huntress-Queen, Belphœbe, with her companions the wood-nymphs, were that
day chasing the leopards and the bears in that wild forest. A gentle
squire, who was also one of the party, got separated from the others,
and he came in sight of Amoret just as she was overtaken by the savage,
who carried her away under his arm, grinning, and yelling with laughter.
The squire immediately attacked the savage, but it was difficult to do
him any harm, for the latter held Amoret all the while as a shield, and
the squire was afraid of hurting her. But at last he did succeed in
wounding the wretch, who then flung Amoret rudely on the ground, and
flew at the squire so fiercely that he forced him back.
In the midst of their battle, Belphœbe drew near. The robber, seeing her
approach with bow in hand and arrows ready bent, would no longer stay to
fight, but fled away in ghastly fear, for he knew she was the only one
who could kill him. But fast as he flew, Belphœbe kept pace with him,
and before he reached his den she sent forth an arrow with mighty force
which caught him in the very doorway and slew him.
Amoret and Emilia were now safe, and they lived together in the wood for
some time; but both were very ill—Emilia from having been kept so long a
prisoner in the cave, where she was nearly starved, and Amoret from the
hurts she had received in the rough handling of the savage.
One day it chanced that through this wood rode Prince Arthur, and he
came to the place where the two ladies dwelt. He was greatly grieved to
see the sad state in which they were, especially Amoret, who looked as
if she could not live long. He immediately drew forth some of that
precious liquor which he always kept about him, and which had the power
of healing all wounds. It was the same wonderful medicine that he had
long ago given to the Red Cross Knight, when he rescued him from the
dungeon of Giant Pride. Prince Arthur sprinkled a few drops of this on
Amoret’s wounds, and she soon recovered her strength.
When the ladies were well, Prince Arthur began to ask what evil guide
had brought them there, and how their harms befell. They told him all
that had happened, and how they had been released from thraldom by the
beautiful Belphœbe. Then the Prince said he would restore them safely to
their friends, and placing them both on his war-horse, he went beside
them himself on foot, to shield them from fear.
Thus, when they had passed out of the forest they spied far away a
little cottage, to which they came before nightfall. But entering, they
found no one dwelling there, except one old woman who sat upon the
ground in tattered raiment, her dirty locks scattered all about her,
while she gnawed her nails with cruelty and rage. She was a hideous
creature to see, and no less hateful by nature, for she was stuffed full
with rancour and spite, which often broke forth in streams of poison,
bitterness, and falsehood against all who held to truth or virtue. Men
called her name _Slander_.
It was Slander’s nature to abuse all goodness, and continually to invent
crimes of which to accuse guiltless people, so that she might steal away
their fair name. No knight was ever so bold, nor any lady so good and
loyal, but what Slander strove to defame them falsely; never thing was
done so well but she would blot it with blame, and deprive it of due
praise. Her words were not, as common words are meant, to express the
meaning of the mind, but they were sharp and bitter to pierce the heart
and grieve the soul; like the stings of asps that kill with their bite,
her spiteful words pricked and wounded inwardly.
Such was the hag, unfit to receive these guests, whom the greatest
Prince’s court would have been glad to welcome; but their necessity bade
them look for no better entertainment. It was, besides, an age which
despised luxury. People were accustomed to hardness and homely fare,
which trained them to warlike discipline, and to endure carelessly any
hard fortunes or luckless mishaps which might befall them.
All that evening, then, welcomed with cold and cheerless hunger, they
spent together, and found no fault, except that the hag scolded and
railed at them for lodging there without her consent. But they mildly
and patiently endured it all, regardless of the unjust blame and bitter
reviling of such a worthless creature.
[Illustration:
“=A Squire came galloping, as he would flie,
Bearing a little Dwarfe before his steed,
Whom after did a mightie man pursew,
Ryding upon a Dromedare on hie,
Of stature huge, and horrible of hew.=”
]
Directly it was daylight they prepared again for their journey, and went
forth, Amoret and Emilia as before riding on the horse, and the Prince
walking beside them. As soon as they departed, wicked old Slander
followed, reviling them, and calling them bad names. The more they were
vexed at this, the worse she raged and railed; and even when they had
passed out of sight and hearing she did not stop her spiteful speeches,
but railed anew against the stones and trees, until she had dulled the
sting that grew in the end of her tongue.
As the travellers went slowly on their way, they saw galloping towards
them, as if in flight, a Squire who bore before him on his steed a
little dwarf, shrieking loudly for help. They were pursued by a mighty
man, riding on a dromedary, huge of stature, and horrible to behold.
From his terrible eyes came two fiery beams, sharper than needles’
points, which had the power of working deadly poison to all who looked
on him without good heed, and of secretly slaying his enemies. All the
way he raged at the Squire, and hurled threats at him, but the latter
fled so fast he could not overtake him. Seeing the Prince in his bright
armour, the Squire called to him to pity him and rescue him from his
cruel foe.
Then Prince Arthur at once took down the two ladies from his war-horse,
and mounting in their place came to the Squire. In another moment the
Giant was upon them. He aimed a furious blow at the Squire, which would
certainly have killed him, had not the noble Prince defeated the stroke
by thrusting forward, and meeting it on his own shield. It fell with
such force that it drove the shield aside, and knocked both the Squire
and the dwarf to the ground. Then Prince Arthur, enraged, smote at the
Pagan with all his might and main, and killed him.
When the Squire saw his foe dead he was indeed glad, but the dwarf
howled aloud to see his lord slain, and tore his hair, and scratched his
face for grief.
Then the Prince began to inquire about everything that had happened, and
who he was whose eyes flamed with fire. And all this the Squire then
told him:—
“For his Friend’s Sake”
“This mighty man whom you have slain,” said the Squire, “is the son of a
huge giantess. By his strength he gained rule to himself and led many
nations into thraldom, conquering them, however, not in battle, by
armies of men with waving banners, but by the power of his malignant
eyes, with which he killed all who came within his control. Never before
was he vanquished, but always vanquished all with whom he fought. Nor
was there any man so strong but what he bore him down, nor any woman so
fair but he made captive of her; for his chief desire was to make spoil
of strength and beauty, and utterly to destroy them. Because of his
wicked eyes, which cast flakes of fire into the hearts of those who
looked at him, he was rightly called _Corflambo_.
“He has left one daughter who is named the fair Pœana, who seems
outwardly as fair as living eye ever yet saw; and if her virtue were as
bright as her beauty, she would be as fair as any one on earth. But she
is too much given to folly and pleasure, and is also too fickle and too
fanciful.
“Well, as it happened, there was a gentle Squire who loved a lady of
noble birth; but because his low rank forbade his hoping to marry so
high, her friends sagely counselled her against letting herself down to
his level. But Emilia would not break the promise she had given Amyas,
for she loved him truly, and holding firmly to her first intention, she
resolved to marry him, in spite of all her friends. They appointed,
therefore, a time and place of meeting, but when accordingly the Squire
repaired there, a sad misadventure happened. Instead of finding his fair
Emilia, he was caught unawares by Corflambo, who carried his wretched
captive, dismayed with despair, to his dungeon, where he remained
unaided, and unsought by any one.
“The Giant’s daughter came one day in glee to the prison, to view the
captives who lay in bondage there. Among the rest she chanced to see
this gallant youth, the Squire of low degree. She took a great liking to
him, and she promised that if he would love her in return he should have
his liberty.
“Amyas, though plighted to another lady to whom he firmly meant to keep
his faith, thought he had better take any means of escape offered by
fortune, and therefore pretended to like Pœana a very little, in order
to win her favour and get his liberty. But the Giant’s daughter still
kept him in captivity, fearing that if she set him free he would leave
at once and forget her. Yet she showed him so much favour above the
other prisoners that he was allowed sometimes to walk about her pleasure
gardens, having always a keeper with him. The keeper was this dwarf, her
pet menial, to whom as a special favour she commits the keys of all the
prison doors. He can, at his will, release those whom he chooses, and
those also whom he chooses he can reserve for more severe punishment.
“When tidings of this reached me, I was deeply grieved because of the
great love I bear to Amyas, and I went to the Castle of Corflambo. There
I concealed myself for a long time, till one day the dwarf discovered
me, and told his mistress that her Squire of low degree had secretly
stolen out of prison; for he mistook me for Amyas, because no two people
were ever more alike.
“I was taken and brought before the Giant’s daughter, who being also
beguiled by the likeness, began to blame me for seeking to escape by
flight from one who loved me so dearly; and then she ordered me again to
prison. Glad of this, I did not contradict her, nor make any resistance,
but suffered that same dwarf to drive me to the dungeon.
“There I found my faithful friend in heavy plight and sad perplexity,
for which I was sorry, yet bent myself to comfort him again with my
company. But this, I found, grieved him the more; for his only joy in
his distress, he said, was the thought that Emilia and I were free. He
loved Emilia well, as I could guess, and yet he said his love for me was
even greater.
[Illustration:
“=This Gyant’s daughter came upon a day
Unto the prison in her joyous glee,
To view the thrals which there in bondage lay.=”
]
“But I reasoned with him and showed him how easy it would be to manage a
disguise because of our likeness, so that either we could change places
or his freedom might be gained. He was most unwilling to agree, and
would not for anything consent that I, who was free and out of danger,
should wilfully be brought into thraldom. Yet, over-ruled at last, he
consented.
“The next day, at about the usual hour, the dwarf called at the door of
the dungeon for Amyas to come directly to his lady’s bower. Instead of
Amyas, I—Placidas—came forth, and, undiscovered, went with him. The fair
Pœana received me with joy, and gave me an affectionate greeting,
thinking that I was Amyas. Not having any former love of my own, I was
quite willing to accept her kindness and favour, as indeed it was
expedient to do. I pretended to make excuses for my former coldness, and
promised to be more amiable in future. All this I did, not for my own
sake, but to do good to my friend, for whose liberty alone I staked love
and life.
“Thenceforward I found more favour at Pœana’s hand. She bade the dwarf
who had charge of me lighten my heavy chains and grant me more scope to
walk abroad. So, one day, as I played with him on the flowery bank of a
stream, finding no means of gaining our freedom unless I could convey
away the dwarf, I lightly snatched him up and carried him off.
“He shrieked so loudly that at his cry the tyrant himself came forth and
pursued me. Nevertheless I would not give up my prey, and hither by
force I have brought him.”
As Placidas spoke thus to Prince Arthur, the two ladies, still doubtful
through fear, came near, wishing to hear tidings of all that had
happened.
Directly Emilia spied her captive lover’s friend, young Placidas, she
sprang towards him, and throwing her arms round him, exclaimed, “Does
Amyas still live?”
“He lives,” said Placidas, “and loves his Emilia.”
“Not more than I love him,” she cried. “But what misfortune has kept him
so long from me?”
Then Placidas told her how Amyas had been taken captive. It filled her
tender heart with pity to hear of the misery in which he had lain so
long, and she eagerly begged Prince Arthur to set him free. This the
Prince readily consented to do, and well he performed his work.