One of the best loved knights at the court of the Faerie Queene was Sir
Calidore, for even there, where courteous knights and ladies most did
throng, not one was more renowned for courtesy than Calidore. Gentleness
of spirit and winning manners were natural to him, and added to these,
his gallant bearing and gracious speech stole all men’s hearts.
Moreover, he was strong and tall, and well proved in battle, so that he
had won much glory, and his fame had spread afar. Not a knight or lady
at the Court but loved him dearly; and he was worthy of their affection,
for he hated falsehood and base flattery, and loved simple truth and
steadfast honesty.
But like all Queen Gloriana’s other knights, Sir Calidore was not
allowed to spend his days in slothful ease at the court. He had his task
to perform, and the adventure appointed to him was a hard and perilous
one.
As he travelled on his way, it happened by chance that he met Sir
Artegall, who was returning half sadly from the conquest he had lately
made. They knew each other at once, and Sir Calidore was the first to
speak.
“Hail, noblest Knight of all that live and breathe!” he cried. “Now tell
me, if it please you, of the good success you have had in your late
enterprise.”
Then Sir Artegall told him the whole story of his exploits from
beginning to end.
“Happy man to have worthily achieved so hard a quest!” said Calidore,
when he had finished. “It will make you renowned for evermore. But where
you have ended I now begin to tread an endless track, without guide or
direction how to enter in or issue forth—in untried ways, in strange
perils, and in long and weary labour. And even although good fortune may
befall me, it will be unseen of any one.”
“What is that quest which calls you now into such peril?” asked Sir
Artegall.
“I pursue the Blatant Beast,” said Sir Calidore, “and incessantly chase
him through the world until I overtake and subdue him. I do not know how
or in what place to find him, yet still I fare forward.”
“What is that Blatant Beast?” asked Artegall.
“It is a hideous monster of evil race, born and brought up in dark and
noisome places, whence he issues forth to be the plague and scourge of
wretched men. He has oftentimes annoyed good knight and true lady, and
destroyed many, for with his venomous nature and vile tongue he wounds
sorely, and bites, and cruelly torments.”
“Then, since I left the savage island, I have seen such a beast,” said
Artegall. “He seemed to have a thousand tongues, all agreeing in spite
and malice, with which he barked and bayed at me, as if he would have
devoured me on the spot. He was set on by two hideous old hags, _Envy_
and _Detraction_. But I, knowing myself safe from peril, paid no regard
to his malice nor his power, whereupon he poured forth his wicked poison
the more.”
“That surely is the beast which I pursue,” said Calidore. “I am right
glad to have these tidings of him, having had none before in all my
weary travels. Now your words give me some hope.”
“God speed you!” said Sir Artegall, “and keep you from the dread danger,
for you have much to contend against.”
So they took a kindly leave of each other, and parted on their several
ways.
Sir Calidore had not travelled far when he came upon a comely Squire,
bound hand and foot to a tree, who seeing him in the distance called to
him for aid. The Knight at once set him free, and then asked him what
mishap had brought him into such disgrace. The Squire replied it was
occasioned not by his fault, but through his misfortune.
[Illustration:
“=Sir Calidore thence travelled not long,
When as by chaunce a comely Squire be found,
That thorough some more mighty enemies wrong
Both hand and foote unto a tree was bound.=”
]
“Not far from here, on yonder rocky hill,” he said, “stands a strong
Castle, where a bad and hateful custom is kept up. For whenever any
knight or lady comes along that way (and they must needs go by, for it
is the pass through the rocks), they shave away the lady’s locks and the
knight’s beard to pay toll for the passage.”
“As shameful a custom as ever I heard of, and it shall be put a stop
to!” said Sir Calidore. “But for what cause was it first set on foot?”
“The lady who owns the castle is called Briana, and no prouder one
lives,” replied the Squire. “For a long time she has dearly loved a
doughty Knight, and sought to win his love by all the means in her
power. Crudor, for that is his name, in his scornful and selfish vanity
refuses to return her affection until she has made for him a mantle,
lined with the beards of knights and the locks of ladies. To provide
this, she has prepared this castle, and appointed a Seneschal, called
Maleffort, a man of great strength, who executes her wicked will with
worse malice.
“As I came along to-day with a fair damsel, my dear love, he set upon
us. Unable to withstand him, we both fled, and first capturing me he
bound me to this tree till his return, and then went in pursuit of her.
Nor do I know whether he has yet found her.”
While they were speaking they heard a piteous shriek, and looking in the
direction whence the cry came, they saw the churl dragging the maiden
along by her yellow hair. When Calidore beheld the shameful sight he
immediately went in pursuit, and commanded the villain to release his
prey. Hearing his voice, Maleffort turned, and running towards him, more
enraged than terrified, said tauntingly—
“Are you the wretch who defies me? And will you give your beard for this
maid, whose part you take? Yet it shall not free her locks from ransom.”
With that he flew fiercely at him and laid on the most hideous strokes.
But Calidore, who was well skilled in fight, let his adversary exhaust
his strength, and then attacked him with such fury that the churl’s
heart failed him, and he took flight to the Castle, where his hope of
refuge remained. But just as the warders on the Castle wall opened the
gates to receive him, Calidore overtook him in the porch, and killed
him, so that his dead body fell down inside the door. Then Calidore
entered in and slew the porter.
The rest of the Castle inmates flocked round him, but he swept them all
aside. Passing into the hall he was met by the Lady Briana herself, who
bitterly upbraided him for what she termed his unknightly conduct in
slaying her servants.
“Not unto me the shame, but award it to the shameful doer,” replied the
Knight. “It is no blame to punish those who deserve it. Those who break
the bonds of civility and make wicked customs, those are they who defame
both noble arms and gentle courtesy. There is no greater disgrace to man
than inhumanity. Then for dread of disgrace forego this evil custom
which you here keep up, and show instead kindly courtesy to all who
pass. This will gain you more glory than that man’s love which you thus
seek to obtain.”
But the Lady Briana only replied to Sir Calidore with the most scornful
insolence, and despatching a hasty message to Crudor, bade him come to
her rescue. While they waited for the return of the messenger, she
treated Sir Calidore with every indignity, so that an iron heart could
scarcely have borne it; but the Knight wisely controlled his wrath, and
bravely and patiently endured her womanish disdain.
In due course the answer came back that Crudor would succour his lady
before he tasted bread, and deliver up her foe, dead or alive, into her
hand. Then Briana immediately became quite blithe, and spoke more
bitterly than ever, yet Calidore was not in the least dismayed, but
rather seemed the more cheerful. Putting on his armour, he went out to
meet his foe, and soon spied a Knight spurring towards him with all his
might.
He guessed at once this was Crudor, and without staying to ask his name
couched his spear and ran at him. The Knights met with such fury that
both rolled to the ground; but while Calidore at once sprang lightly
again to his feet, it was some time before Crudor rose slowly and
heavily. Then the battle was renewed on foot, and after a fierce and
terrible struggle Calidore at last brought his foe to the ground. He
could easily have killed him, but Crudor, seeing the danger in which he
was placed, cried out—
“Ah, mercy, Sir! Do not slay me, but spare my life which fate has laid
under your foot.”
“And is this the boast of that proud lady’s threat, which menaced to
beat me from the field?” said Calidore quietly. “By this you may now
learn not to treat strangers so rudely. But put away proud looks and
stern behaviour, which shall gain for you nothing but dishonour. However
strong and fortunate he may be in fight, nothing is more blameful to a
Knight, who professes courtesy as well as arms, than the reproach of
pride and cruelty. In vain he seeks to suppress others who has not
learned first to subdue himself. All flesh is frail and full of
fickleness, subject to the chance of ever-changing fortune: what happens
to me to-day may happen to you to-morrow. He who will not show mercy to
others, how can he ever hope to obtain mercy? To pay each in his own
coin is right and just.
“Yet since you now need to crave mercy, I will grant it, and spare your
life, on these conditions: First that you shall behave yourself better
to all errant knights, wherever they may be; and next, that you aid
ladies in every place and in every trouble.”
The wretched man, who had remained all this while in dread of death,
gladly promised to perform all Sir Calidore’s behests, and further swore
to marry Briana without any dowry, and to release her from his former
shameful conditions. Then Calidore called the Lady, and soothing her
terror, told her of the promise he had compelled Crudor to make.
Overcome by his exceeding courtesy, which quite pierced her stubborn
heart, Briana threw herself at his feet, and acknowledged herself deeply
indebted to him for having restored both life and love to her. Then they
all returned to the Castle, and she entertained them joyfully with feast
and glee, trying by all the means in her power to show her gratitude and
goodwill. To Sir Calidore, for his trouble, she freely gave the Castle,
and professed herself bound to him for ever, so wondrously was she
changed from what she had been before.
But Calidore would not keep for himself land or fee as wages for his
good deed, but gave them at once as a rightful reward to the Squire whom
he had lately freed, and to his damsel, in recompense for all their
former wrong. There he remained happily with them till he was well and
strong from the wounds he had received, and then he passed forth again
on his first quest.