Thus for a long while Sir Artegall continued obediently serving proud
Radigund, however much it galled his noble heart to obey the dictates of
a tyrannous woman. Having chosen his lot, he could not now change.
As the days went by, the Amazon Queen began to have a great liking for
her strange captive, but for a long time she kept this carefully
concealed, for her pride would not allow her to own to such a feeling
for her lowly vassal. At last, when she could bear it no longer, she
sent for her trusted maid, Clarinda, and told her to devise some means
by which to discover whether there were any chance of Sir Artegall’s
loving her, if she gave him his liberty. Clarinda promised to do her
best, and tried by all the means in her power to win favour with the
Knight, but the more she saw of him the better she liked him herself, so
she ended by being false both to her mistress and to Sir Artegall. To
the Queen she pretended that Sir Artegall was very stern and obstinate,
and scorned all her offers of kindness and gentler treatment; and to the
Knight she declared that she had earnestly besought Radigund to grant
him freedom, but the Queen would by no means be persuaded, and had
ordered instead that he should be more harshly treated and laden with
iron chains. This command, however, Clarinda said she would not carry
out, because of her own regard for the Knight, and she further promised
that if she found favour in his sight she would devise some means of
setting him free.
Sir Artegall, glad to gain his liberty, answered her civilly, but
determined in his heart that nothing should make him forsake his own
true love, Britomart; and deceitful Clarinda had not the least intention
of freeing him from bondage, but considered rather how she might keep
him more securely. Therefore every day she unkindly told her mistress
that the Knight spurned her offers of goodwill, and Sir Artegall she
told that the Queen refused him his freedom. Yet in order to win his
affection, she showed him this much friendship, that his scanty fare was
improved, and his work lessened.
Thus for a long while Sir Artegall remained there in thraldom.
Britomart, meanwhile, waited and longed for news of her absent lord, and
when the utmost date assigned for his return had passed, a thousand
fears assailed her doubting mind. Sometimes she feared lest a terrible
misfortune had befallen him; sometimes lest his false foe had entrapped
him in a snare; at other times a jealous fear troubled her that perhaps
Sir Artegall had forgotten her, and found some other lady whom he loved
better. Yet she was loath to think so ill of him as this. One moment she
blamed herself; another, condemned him as faithless and untrue; then,
trying to cheat her grief, she pretended she had reckoned the time
wrong, and began to count it all over a different way.
When months went on, and still he never came back, she thought of
sending some one to seek him, but could find no one so fitting to do
this as her own self.
One day, unable to rest quietly in any place, she came to a window
opening to the west, which was the way Sir Artegall had gone. There,
looking forth, she felt many vain fancies disquiet her, and sent her
winged thoughts swifter than wind to carry her heart’s message to her
love. As she looked long, she spied some one coming hastily towards her.
Then she knew well before she saw him plainly, that it was some one sent
from Sir Artegall; and as he drew near, she found it was his servant,
Talus. Filled with hope and dread she ran to meet him, exclaiming—
“And where is he, thy lord, and how far hence? Tell me at once. And has
he lost or won?”
Then Talus told the whole story of Sir Artegall’s captivity.
Britomart listened bravely to the end, and then a sudden fit of wrath
and grief seized her. Without waiting to make any answer, she got ready
at once, donned her armour, and mounting her steed, bade Talus guide her
on.
So she rode forth to seek her Knight; sadly she rode, speaking no word
good or bad, and looking neither to the right or left. Her heart burned
with rage to punish the pride of that woman who had pent her lord in a
base prison, and had tarnished his great honour with such infamous
disgrace.
[Illustration: A woman seated by a window looking outside, with a vase
of flowers in the foreground.]
Thus riding, she chanced to meet towards evening a knight strolling on
the plain as if to refresh himself. He seemed well on in years, and
inclined rather to peace than to needless trouble, his raiment and his
modest bearing both showing that he meant no evil. Coming near, he began
to salute Britomart in the most courteous fashion. Though the Princess
would rather have remained mute than joined in commonplace conversation,
yet sooner than despise such kindness she set her own wishes aside, and
so returned his greeting in due form. Then the other began to chat
further about things in general, and asked many questions, to which she
gave careless answer. For she had little desire to talk about anything,
or to hear about anything, however delightful; her mind was wholly
possessed by one thought, and there was no place for any other.
When the stranger observed this, he no longer forced her to talk
unwillingly, but begged her to favour him, since the skies were growing
dark and wet, by lodging with him that night, unless good cause forbade
it. Britomart, seeing night was at hand, was glad to yield to his kind
request, and went with him without any objection.
His dwelling was not far away, and soon arriving, they were received in
the most gracious and befitting manner, for their host gave them
excellent good cheer, and talked of pleasant things to entertain them.
Thus the evening passed well, till the time came for rest. Then
Britomart was brought to her bower, where attendants waited to help her
to undress. But she would not for anything take off her armour, although
her host warmly besought her; for she had vowed, she said, not to lay
aside this warrior garb till she had wrought revenge on a mortal foe for
a recent wrong; which she would surely perform, let weal or woe betide
her.
When their host perceived this, he grew very discontented, for he was
afraid lest he should now miss his purpose; but taking leave of her, he
departed.
Britomart remained all night restless and comfortless, with deeply
grieved heart, not allowing the least twinkle of sleep to refresh her.
In sorrowful thoughts she wore away the weary hours, now walking softly
about, now sitting still, upright. Neither did Talus let sleep close his
eyelids, but kept continual guard, lying in much discomfort outside her
door, like a spaniel, watching carefully lest any one should by
treachery betray his lady.
Just at cock-crow Britomart heard a strange noise in the hall below, and
suddenly the bed, on which she might have been lying, by a false trap
was let to fall down into a lower room; then immediately the floor was
raised again, so that no one could spy the trap.
At the sight of this, Britomart was sorely dismayed, plainly perceiving
the treason which was intended; yet she did not stir, in case of more,
but courageously kept her place, waiting what would follow.
It was not long before she heard the sound of armed men coming towards
her chamber, at which dreadful peril she quickly caught her sword, and
bound her shield about her. As she did so, there came to her door two
knights, all armed ready to fight, and after them a rascally mob, rudely
equipped with weapons.
As soon as Talus spied them he started up from where he lay on the
ground, and caught his thresher ready in his hand. They immediately let
drive at him, and pressed round in riotous array, but as soon as he
began to lay about with his iron flail, they turned and fled, both the
armed knights and the unarmed crowd. Talus pursued them wherever he
could spy them in the dark, then returning to Britomart, told her the
story of the fray, and all the treason that was intended.
Though greatly enraged, and inwardly burning to be avenged for such an
infamous deed, Britomart was compelled to wait for daylight. She
therefore remained in her chamber, but kept wary heed, in case of any
further treachery.
The cause of this evil behaviour was unknown to Britomart, but this is
how it was.
The master of the house was called Dolon (_Guile_), a subtle and wicked
man; in his youth he had been a knight, and borne arms, but gained
little good and less honour by that warlike kind of life; for he was not
in the least valorous, but with sly shifts and wiles got the better of
all noble and daring knights, and brought many to shame by treachery.
He had three sons, all three like their father treacherous, and full of
fraud and guile. The eldest, named Guizor, had, through his own guilty
cunning, been slain by Artegall, and to avenge him, Dolon, with his
other two sons, had lately devised many vile plots. He imagined by
several tokens that his present guest was Artegall, but chiefly on
account of the Iron Man who was always accustomed to remain with
Artegall. Dolon, therefore, meant surely to have slain the Knight, but
by the grace of heaven and her own good heed, Britomart was preserved
from the traitor.
The next morning, as soon as it was dawn, she came forth from the
hateful chamber, fully intending to punish the villain and all his
family. But coming down to seek them where they dwelt, she could not see
father, nor sons, nor any one. She sought in each room, but found them
all empty; every one had fled in fear, but whither neither she nor Talus
knew.
She saw it was in vain to stay there longer, so took her steed, and
lightly mounting, started again on her former way. She had not ridden
the distance of an arrow’s flight before she saw in front of her the two
false brethren on the perilous Bridge, where Sir Artegall had fought
with the Saracen. The passage was narrow, like a ploughed ridge, so that
if two met, one must needs fall over the edge.
There they thought to wreak their wrath on her, and began to reproach
her bitterly, accusing her of murdering Guizor by cunning. Britomart did
not know what they meant, but she went forward without pausing till she
came to the perilous Bridge. There Talus wanted to prepare the way for
her, and scare off the two villains, but her eyes sparkled with anger at
the suggestion. Not staying to consider which way to take, she put spurs
to her fiery steed, and making her way between them, she drove one
brother at the point of her spear to the end of the Bridge, and hurled
the other brother over the side of it into the river.
Thus the Warrior Princess slew the two wicked sons of Goodman Guile.