Transcriber's Notes: Words in italics in the original are surrounded
with _underscores_. Variations in spelling and hyphenation remain as
in the original. The Table of Contents is at the end of this volume. A
complete list of corrections follows the text.
Amadis of Gaul,
by
VASCO LOBEIRA.
IN FOUR VOLUMES.
VOL. II.
LONDON:
Printed by N. Biggs, Crane-court, Fleet-street,
FOR T. N. LONGMAN AND O. REES, PATERNOSTER
ROW.
1803.
_AMADIS of GAUL._
Book the First.
_CHAPTER 36._
Amadis and Galaor were within two leagues of London when they saw
Ardian the Dwarf coming towards them as fast as horse could gallop.
Never trust me, quoth Amadis, if he comes not with the news of some
great mishap to seek us. Presently the Dwarf came up and related all
his tidings, and how Oriana was carried away. Holy Mary, help me! cried
Amadis: which way did they take her?—By the city is the nearest road.
Amadis immediately spurred his horse, and gallopped amain towards
London, so confounded with the terror of this news that he never spoke
word to Galaor, who followed him full speed. They passed close by the
town without stopping a minute, only Amadis enquired of all he saw
which way the Princess had been taken; but as Gandalin passed under the
windows where the Queen and her Ladies were, the Queen called him,
and threw the King's sword to him, which was the best sword that ever
Knight girded on; take it to your Master, quoth she, and God speed him
with it! and tell Galaor that the King went from hence with a Damsel
this morning, and is not yet returned, and we know not where she has
led him. Gandalin took the sword and rode as fast as he could after
Amadis, who coming to a brook missed the bridge in his hurry, and
forcing the horse to leap the tired animal fell short into the mud;
then Gandalin came up to him and gave him the sword, and the horse
which he himself rode. Presently they turned aside from the road to
follow the track of horsemen, and there they saw some woodmen, who
asked them if they came from London, for if a Knight and a Damsel be
missing there, said they, we have seen an adventure; and then they
told them what they had beheld. Who is it that has taken them? quoth
Amadis; for he knew it was Lisuarte by the description. They answered,
the Damsel who led the Knight here called loudly for Arcalaus. Lord
God! quoth Amadis: let me but find that traitor!—The woodmen then told
them how the party had separated, and said that one of the five Knights
who went with the Damsel was the biggest Knight they had ever seen.
Amadis knew that that was Arcalaus; and bidding Galaor follow where
the King went, he spurred on after Oriana. By sunset the horse could
carry him no farther, and he being greatly distressed, saw a little to
the right of the road a Knight lying dead, and a Squire by him holding
his horse. Who slew that Knight? cried Amadis. A traitor that passed
by, carrying the fairest Damsel in the world by force, and he slew my
master only for asking who they were, and here is no one to help me
to remove the body.—My Squire shall help you: give me your master's
horse: I promise to give you two better in return. He told Gandalin to
follow him after the body was disposed of, and gallopped on. Towards
day-break he came to a hermitage in a valley, and asked the Hermit
if he had seen five Knights pass carrying with them two Damsels? Do
you see yonder castle? he replied: my nephew tells me that Arcalaus
the Enchanter is lodged there, and with him two fair Damsels whom he
hath taken by violence. By God the very villain whom I seek!—He hath
done much evil in this land, replied the Hermit. God remove him, or
mend him!—Then Amadis asked him if he had any barley for his horse;
and, while the horse was feeding, enquired who was the Lord of the
castle. Grumen, said the good man, cousin to Dardan who was slain in
Lisuarte's court, and therefore the King's enemies put up there. Now
God be with you, father! quoth Amadis; I beseech you remember me in
your prayers! which way to the castle?—Amadis followed the path which
the good man had pointed out, and came up to it, and saw that the wall
was high and the towers strong. He listened and could hear no sound
within, and that pleased him, for he knew that Arcalaus was not gone
forth; and he rode round, and saw that it had only one issue. Then he
retired among some crags, and, dismounting, stood holding the bridle,
and with his eyes fixed upon the gate, like one who had no will to
sleep. By this the morning broke, and he removed farther across a
valley to a hill that was well wooded, for he feared that if those of
the castle saw him they would suspect there were others at hand, and
therefore not come out. Presently the gate opened, and a Knight came
out, and went to a high eminence and looked all round; then returned
into the castle. It was not long before he saw Arcalaus and his four
companions come out, all well armed, and among them Oriana. Ah, God!
quoth he, now and for ever help me in her defence! They drew near him,
and he heard Oriana say, Dear friend, I shall never see thee more, for
I go to my death. The tears came into his eyes; he descended the hill
as fast as he could, and came after them into a great plain, and then
cried, Arcalaus! traitor! it becomes not one like thee to carry away
so excellent a Lady! Oriana knew the voice, and shook all over; but
Arcalaus and the others ran at him. He took his aim at Arcalaus, and
bore him right over the crupper; then turned his horse and smote at
Grumen, so that the point and part of the stave of the spear came out
at his back, and he fell down dead, and the spear broke in him. Then
he drew the King's sword, and laid about with such rage and violence,
and felt such strength in himself, that he thought if the whole plain
were full of Knights they could not stand before him. We are succoured!
quoth the Damsel of Denmark: it is the fortunate Knight! look at the
wonders he performeth! Ah God protect thee, dear friend! cried Oriana:
none other in the world can save us. The Squire who had her in his
keeping seeing what had passed, cried out, Certes I shall not wait
till those blows come upon my head which shields and helmets cannot
resist! and he put the princess down, and rode off full speed. By this
Amadis had cut thro' the arm of another, and sent him away howling
with the agony of death; and he cleft a third down to the neck. The
fourth began to fly, and Amadis was after him, when he heard his Lady
cry; and looking round, saw that Arcalaus had mounted again, and was
dragging her up by the arm. Amadis soon came up to them, and lifting up
his sword dared not put forth his strength lest he should slay both,
but with a half-blow he smote him on the shoulder, and cut away part
of the cuirass and the skin; then Arcalaus let Oriana fall, that he
might escape the better. Turn, Arcalaus, cried Amadis, and see if I be
dead as thou hast reported! but he in fear of death spurred on, and
threw his shield from off his neck for speed. The blow made at him just
reached his loins with the sword-end, and fell upon the horse's flank
and wounded it, so that the beast rode away more furiously. Amadis,
albeit he so hated the Enchanter, did not pursue him further, lest he
should lose his mistress, he turned towards her, and alighted and knelt
before her, and kissed her hand, saying, now let God do with me what he
will! I never thought to see you again. She being among the dead was
in great terror, and could not speak, but she embraced him. The Damsel
of Denmark going to hold his horse saw the sword of Arcalaus on the
ground, and admiring its beauty gave it to Amadis; but he seeing it
was right glad thereof, for it was King Perion's sword which had been
placed in his cradle, and which Arcalaus had taken when he enchanted
him. Presently Gandalin came up, who had travelled all night long: a
joyful man was he seeing how the quest had ended.
Amadis then placed Oriana upon the Damsels palfrey, while Gandalin
caught one of the loose horses for the Damsel, and taking her bridle
they left the place of battle. But Amadis as they went along reminded
Oriana how she had promised to be his; hitherto, said he, I have known
that it was not in your power to show me more favour than you did; but
now that you are at full liberty, how should I support disappointments
without the worst despair that ever destroyed man! Dear friend, quoth
she, never for my sake shall you suffer, for I am at your will: though
it be an error and a sin now, let it not be so before God.—When they
had proceeded about three leagues they entered a thick wood, and about
a league farther there was a town. Oriana, who had not slept a wink
since she left her father's house, complained of fatigue: let us rest
in that valley, said Amadis. There was a brook there and soft herbage;
there Amadis took her from her palfrey: the noon, said he, is coming on
very hot, let us sleep here till it be cooler, and meantime Gandalin
shall go bring us food from the town. He may go, replied Oriana, but
who will give him food?—They will give it him for his horse, which
he may leave in pledge, and return on foot. No: said Oriana, let him
take my ring, which was never before so useful: and she gave it to
Gandalin, who, as he went by Amadis, said to him, he who loses a good
opportunity, Sir, must wait long before he find another. Oriana laid
herself down upon the Damsel's cloak, while Amadis disarmed, of which
he had great need, and the Damsel retired farther among the trees to
sleep. Then was his Lady in his power, nothing loth; and the fairest
Damsel in the world became a Woman. Yet was their love encreased
thereby, as pure and true love alway is.
When Galaor returned, the Damsel prepared the food; and, though they
had neither many serving-men, nor vessels of gold and silver, yet was
that a sweet meal upon the green grass in the forest.
_CHAPTER 37._
Galaor rode on after the King so fast as his horse could carry him;
still following the track of the horsemen. About vespers he met a
Knight who cried out to him, whither so fast? stop and tell me! I have
no time, quoth he.—By St. Mary, you pass not so! tell me, or fight me!
But Galaor still rode on.—Certes, Knight, cried the stranger, you have
committed some villainy that you fly so fast: defend yourself! Galaor
turned as if to meet him in his career, but dexterously moved aside,
so that the Knight's horse in his speed carried him a good way on. Ah,
coward! cried the Knight, when at last he turned, thou shalt answer me
or die! and he ran at him again full tilt. Again Galaor avoided the
encounter, and rode on as fast as he could. When the Knight saw him
far before, he said, as God shall help me, he shall not escape so!
and knowing the country well, he struck across by a nearer way, and
took possession of a pass. Faint-hearted coward! quoth he, chuse now
of three things: fight, or turn back, or answer me! I like neither,
replied Galaor, and you are discourteous: if you want to know why I go
so fast, follow me and see; I should lose time in telling you, and you
would not believe me, it is for so great an evil. The Knight answered,
In God's name then go on, and I will follow thee though for these three
days.
In about half a league's time they saw one Knight running after his
horse, and another gallopping away from him. He who was with Galaor
knew him on foot, for he was his cousin, and he caught the horse
for him, and asked him, how is this? He replied, I was riding along
thinking upon you know what, when that Knight yonder gave me such a
thrust on my shield that the horse fell upon his knees and threw me. I
drew my sword, and called to him to do battle; but he only cried out,
remember to answer another time when you are spoken to! and so he rode
away. By my faith in God, let us follow him, and see you how I will
avenge myself. I cannot, said his cousin, now, for I must keep this
Knight company for three days; and then he related what had befallen
him with Galaor. Quoth the other, certes either he is the greatest
coward in the world, or he goes upon some great adventure: I will
forego my own vengeance to see the end of this. By this Galaor was far
before them, for he did not tarry a whit, and they rode after him. It
was now drawing towards night. Galaor entered a forest, and soon lost
the track, for it was dark, so that he knew not which way to take. Then
he began to pray to God to guide him that he might be the first to
succour the King; and thinking that those horsemen might have led the
King apart from the road to rest themselves, he went along the bottoms
listening every where if he might hear them. The Knights thinking he
had kept the road, rode straight forward about a league till they came
through the forest, and not seeing him there they imagined he had
hidden himself, and they turned aside to lodge in the house of a Dame
hard by.
When Galaor had searched the forest throughout, and found nothing, he
resolved to proceed, and ascend some eminence the next day to look
about. So recovering the road, he went on till he came into the open
country, and there he saw before him in a valley a little fire. Thither
he went; it was some forgemen, and they seeing him come among them in
arms, took up lances and hatchets to defend themselves; but he bidding
them not fear, besought them to give him some barley for his horse.
The which they did, and he gave the beast his supper. They would have
given him also to eat, but he would not; only he lay down to sleep,
requesting them to wake him before day-break. The night was two parts
gone, and Galaor lay down by the fire, completely armed. At dawn he
rose, for he had not slept much for pure vexation, and, commending them
to God, he took his leave. His Squire had not been able to keep pace
with him, and thenceforth he vowed if God prospered him, to give his
Squire the better horse. So he rode to a high hill, and from thence
began to look all round him.
The two cousins had now left the Lady's house, and it being now day
they saw Galaor on the eminence, and knowing him by his shield rode
towards him. As they drew nigh they saw him descend the hill as fast
as horse could carry him. Certes, quoth the one, he is flying and
concealing himself for some mischief: if I come up with him, God never
help me if I do not learn from him what he hath deserved. But Galaor,
thinking nothing of them, had just seen ten Knights passing a strait
at the entrance of the forest, of whom five rode first and five behind,
and some unarmed men went in the middle. These he thought to be the
villains with the King, and went towards them like a man who has
devoted his own life to save another. Coming near, he saw Lisuarte with
the chain about his neck; and then, with grief and rage that defied
danger, he ran at the first five, exclaiming, Ah, traitors! to your own
misfortune have you laid hands upon the best man in the world! The five
at once ran at him; he smote the first so sternly, that the wood of his
lance appeared through his back, and he fell dead; the others smote
him with such force that his horse fell upon his knees, and one of
them drove his spear between Galaor's shield and breast-plate. Galaor
forced it from him, and striking at another with it, nailed his leg
to the horse, and left the broken lance in them; then putting hand to
sword, the others all came at him, and he defended himself so bravely
that every one wondered how he could bear up against such blows. But
being in this great press of danger, it pleased God to succour him
with the two cousins who were in his pursuit, who seeing his great
chivalry, exclaimed, Of a truth we wrongly called him coward: let us
go help the best Knight in the world! With that they ran full tilt to
his assistance, like men who knew their business, for they had each
been Errant Knights for ten years, and the one was called Ladasin, the
sword-player, and the other Don Guilan the pensive, the good Knight.
At this time Galaor had great need of their aid, for his helmet was
hacked and battered, his harness open in many places, and his horse
tottering with loss of blood; yet he felt assured that, if his horse
did not fail him, he should bring it to a good end. But when the two
cousins came to his help, then he bestirred himself more hopefully, for
he marvelled at their prowess. The load of blows was lightened, and he
had room for action. When the Cousin of Arcalaus saw how things were
going, for his Knights were falling on all sides, he ran to Lisuarte to
slay him. Those who were with the King had fled, and he got from off
the palfrey with the chain about his neck, and caught up a shield and
sword from the ground, and received upon the shield the blow that was
meant for his death. The sword passed a palm's length through the rim
of the shield, and with its point reaching the head made a slant wound
to the skull; but the King smote at his enemy's horse in the face, so
that the traitor could not repeat the blow, and the horse reared and
fell back upon the rider. Galaor now on foot, for his horse could not
move, ran to him to smite off his head; but the King called out not to
slay him. By this the two cousins had made an end of their last enemy,
and then turning round they knew the King, to their great wonder,
for they knew nothing of what had happened; and they took off their
helmets, and knelt before him. He raised them up, saying, By my God,
friends, you have succoured me in time! great wrong, Don Guilan, hath
your mistress done me in withdrawing you from my company, and for your
sake I lose Ladasin also. Guilan was ashamed at these words, and his
cheeks crimsoned, for he loved the Dutchess of Bristol and she loved
him, and the Duke always suspected it was he who had entered his castle
when Galaor was there.
Galaor had now taken the chain from Lisuarte, and fastened it round
the cousin of Arcalaus; they took the horses of the dead, one for the
King, and one for Galaor, and rode towards London. They halted at
the dwelling of Ladasin, and there found Galaor's Squire and Ardian
the Dwarf, who thought his master had taken that way. A Squire was
sent forthwith to inform the Queen of Lisuarte's safety. They rested
that night; and, as they set forth on the morning, their prisoners
confessed how all that had passed had been concerted with Barsinan,
that he might make himself King of Great Britain; which, when Lisuarte
heard, he spurred on in greater haste.
_CHAPTER 38._
The woodmen had carried the news of Lisuarte's imprisonment to London;
immediately there was a great stir in the city: the Knights all ran
to horse, and gallopped to his rescue, so that the whole plain seemed
full of them. King Arban of North Wales was talking with the Queen,
when his Squires brought him horse and arms, and a Page said to him,
arm yourself, Sir! what are you doing? there is not a Knight of all
the King's company, except yourself, who is not gone full speed to the
forest. And why? quoth Arban.—Because they say ten Knights are carrying
away the King prisoner. Holy Mary! exclaimed the Queen; I always feared
this! and she fell down in a swoon. Arban left her to the care of her
Ladies, all making loud lamentation, and armed himself. As he was
mounting, he heard a great cry that the Tower was taken. Holy Mary!
quoth he, we are all betrayed! and then he knew he must not leave the
Queen. By this time there was such an uproar in the town, as if all the
people of the world were there. Arban drew up his two hundred Knights
before the Queen's palace, and sent two of them to discover the cause
of the tumult. They went to the Tower, and saw that Barsinan had got
possession of it, and was killing some and throwing others from the
walls, for he had six hundred Knights with him, besides footmen, and
the King's Knights suspecting nothing had all gone to their master's
rescue. The townsmen hearing this, ran all armed as they could in haste
to the Queen's palace, and there also Barsinan went that he might take
her, and get possession of the crown and throne. When he arrived he
found Arban ready for defence. Arban, quoth he, you have hitherto been
the wisest Knight of a young man that has been known: see now that you
lose not your wisdom. Why do you say this? cried Arban.—Because before
five days end Lisuarte's head will be sent me, and there is no other
in this land who can and ought to be King except myself, and King I
will be! I give you the kingdom of North Wales which you now hold,
because you are a good Knight and wise: so retire now, and let me take
the crown and throne, for whosoever opposes me shall lose his head.
Villain and Traitor! quoth Arban; and then began a sharp conflict,
wherein many were slain, which lasted till night, for the streets being
narrow Barsinan could not avail himself of his numbers, and King Arban
so behaved himself that he that day saved the Queen.
At night both parties retired: the Queen then sent for Arban; he went
to her armed as he was, and wounded in many places, and, when he came
before her, took off his battered helmet. There were five wounds in
his face and neck, and his countenance was all bloody; but it seemed a
beautiful face to those who, under God, thought him their protector.
But the Queen seeing him, wept aloud with great pity: Ah, good nephew,
God defend thee! what will become of the King? and what will become of
us? Of him, quoth Arban, we shall have good news; for ourselves, fear
nothing from these traitors: your vassals who are with me can defend
themselves in their great loyalty.—But, Nephew, you are not in a state
to bear arms, and what can the others do without you?—Fear not, Lady,
so long as life is in me I shall not forsake my arms.
Barsinan, who found his people had need of rest, took twenty Knights
with him in the morning, and went to a post which Arban's High Steward
kept. They at the barrier took their arms to defend themselves, but
Barsinan cried out that he came to speak with them, and make a truce
till noon; to which Arban, being advised thereof, assented willingly,
for the most part of his company had been so hardly handled that they
could not bear arms. Barsinan then went to Arban, and said he would
make a truce for five days. Agreed, said Arban, but provided that
you shall not attempt to take any thing in the town; and that if the
King comes, we immediately act as he may order us. I grant all this,
said Barsinan, that there may be no more battling, for I value my own
Knights, and I value you who will be mine sooner than you think. I will
tell you how: the King is dead, and I have his daughter and will make
her my wife. God forsake me then, quoth Arban, if ever thou shalt have
truce with me, since thou art a partaker in the treason against my
liege Lord! go and do thy worst! And before night Barsinan made three
attacks upon him, and was repulsed.
_CHAPTER 39._
Meantime Amadis asked Oriana what Arcalaus had said to her. He told
me not to grieve, said she, for within fifteen days he would make me
Queen of London, and give me Barsinan for my husband, to whom he was to
give me and my father's head, and be made his High Steward in return.
Holy Mary! quoth Amadis: Barsinan, who seemed such a friend! I fear
lest he do injury to the Queen. Dear friend, cried Oriana, hasten on!
I must to my sorrow, replied Amadis, for else I should have delighted
to pass four days here in the forest with you, if it had pleased you.
Oriana answered, God knows how willingly! but great evil might happen
thereby to this land, which if God pleases will one day be yours and
mine. As soon as it was morning Amadis armed himself, and leading his
Lady's bridle, rode on as fast as they could towards London; and every
where they met the Knights, five by five, and ten by ten, as they
were seeking the King; more than a thousand they met, and told them
which way the King was gone, and how Galaor was in quest of him. When
they came within five leagues of London they met Grumedan, the good
old Knight who had fostered the Queen; twenty of his lineage were with
him, and they had been all night long scouring the forest. He seeing
Oriana went towards her weeping: Oh God, Lady, what a good day with
your coming! but what tidings of the King? They told him what they
knew, and Amadis said to him, Take you charge of Oriana, and bid all
the Knights that you shall meet turn back, for if numbers can succour
him, there are already more than enough gone: I must go with all speed
to protect the Queen. With that he gallopped away: at the entrance of
the city he found the Squire whom Lisuarte had sent with the news of
his deliverance, and learnt also the state of the city. So entering
as privately as he could he went to Arban, who embraced him right
joyfully, and asked, what news? As good as heart could wish! quoth
Amadis: let us go to the Queen. He took with him Ladasin's messenger,
and kneeling before Brisena, said, Lady, this Squire has left Lisuarte
safe and well, and I have left Oriana with your fosterer Grumedan;
they will soon be here, but I must go look after Barsinan. He then
changed his shield and helmet that he might not be known, and bade
Arban throw down the barriers, that the traitors might come freely
on, for by God's help they shall pay dearly for their treason! The
barriers were thrown down, and Barsinan prest on at the head of his
people, thinking that all would now be his, for his own men were many
and his enemies few, and he was eager to seize the Queen. The King's
party gave back being overpowered, then Amadis went forth; he had on
a rusty helmet, and a plain shield hanging from his neck; but he was
soon judged to be a good one, and he went on making his way through the
press; and having the good sword of Lisuarte by his side. He forced his
way to Barsinan and encountered him; drove his lance through shield
and corselet, and left the broken spear in him half way of its iron;
then drew he his sword, and smote off the crest and top of his helmet,
and the scalp of his head, for the sword cut so finely that Amadis
could scarce feel the blow he gave; with another stroke he sheared
thro' gauntlet and hand, and the sword passing through the bone of the
wrist, fell on the leg and entered in half through. Then Barsinan fell,
and Amadis turned upon the throng, and King Arban so prest them that
they who could escape slaughter ran to the Tower, and made fast the
gates. Amadis finding he could not force entrance readily, went back
to Barsinan, and finding him still alive, ordered that he should be
carried to the palace and kept till the King's return. Then the strife
being over, he looked at the bloody sword which he held in his hand.
Sword! quoth he, in a happy day was the Knight born who shall wield
you! and certes you are well employed, for being the best in the world,
you belong to the noblest King! He then disarmed himself, and went to
the Queen; and Arban was laid in his bed, as there was great need, for
he was sorely wounded.
At this time King Lisuarte was hastening to London. Of the Knights whom
he met, some he made turn back, others he sent through the vallies and
by all roads to recal their comrades from their search. The first whom
he met were Agrayes and Galvanes, and Solinan and Galdan, and Dinadaus
and Bervas, all six together making great moan; who when they saw him
would have kissed his hand, but he joyfully embraced them. Sir, said
Dinadaus, the whole city are in quest of you like mad men. Nephew,
replied the King, take some of these Knights with you, and carry my
shield that you may be the sooner obeyed, and turn back all whom you
meet. This Dinadaus was one of the best Knights of the King's lineage,
and well esteemed among all good Knights, as well for courteous bearing
as for his good chivalry and prowess. When they came into the high
road to London they fell in with Grumedan, the King's so dear friend,
who was conducting Oriana home; and I tell you their pleasure was
exceeding great, and the old man told him how Amadis was gone to the
Queen's succour. Presently they heard news what Barsinan had done, and
how King Arban had defended the city, and how by the coming of Amadis
all had been ended and the traitor taken. By the time the King reached
London, there were in his company more than two thousand Knights. When
he came to the palace, who can tell the joy that was made? Immediately
he had the Tower surrounded, and having made Barsinan and the Cousin
of Arcalaus confess the whole manner of their treason, they were both
burnt in sight of their own people, who having no provisions, neither
any remedy, in five days came to the King's mercy, and he executed
justice upon some and pardoned others. Thus ended this treason, but it
was the cause of much enmity between the countries of Great Britain
and Sansuena, for a son of Barsinan, who was a good Knight, came
afterwards against Lisuarte with a great power.
These dangers over the court proceeded as before, making great pastimes
and festivals as well by night in the town, as by day in the fields.
On one of those days the Lady and her sons arrived, before whom Amadis
and Galaor had made their covenant with Madasima. They seeing her went
honourably to bid her welcome. Friends, said she, you know wherefore I
am come: what will you do in this case? will you not keep your promise,
for to-day is the time? In God's name, replied Galaor, let us go before
the King. Let us go, quoth she. Then coming into the presence, the Lady
made her obeisance and said, Sir, I come here to see these Knights
perform a covenant which they have made; and then she repeated what
they had promised to Madasima, the Lady of Gantasi. Ah Galaor, cried
the King, you have undone me! Galaor answered, better this than to die:
if we had been known, all the world could not have saved our lives; and
now the remedy is easier than you imagine. Brother, remember you have
promised to follow my example! Then Galaor related before the King,
and all the Knights present, by what treachery they had been taken.
Sir King, said he, I now forsake you and your company for the sake
of Madasima, the Lady of Castle Gantasi; for it is her will to do you
this displeasure, and whatever others she can, for the hatred she bears
you. Amadis affirmed what his brother had said. Have we performed our
covenant? then said Galaor to the three witnesses; they answered, yes,
truly, you have acquitted your promise. In God's name! quoth Galaor,
and now you may return when you please, and tell Madasima that she hath
not made her terms so cunningly as she thought, as you may see. Sir,
we have kept our covenant with Madasima, and forsaken your service;
but it was not stipulated how long we were to be out of your service,
therefore we are free to use our own will, and freely again enter your
service as before. At this Lisuarte was greatly pleased, and said to
the Lady, Certes these Knights have fairly acquitted themselves of a
promise so treacherously obtained, and just it is that they who deceive
should be themselves deceived. Tell Madasima, that, if she hates me,
she had it in her power to do me the greatest ill that could happen;
but God, who has preserved them from other perils, would not suffer
them to perish by such hands. If it please you, Sir, said the Lady,
tell me who these Knights are?—Amadis and Don Galaor his brother. What!
was Amadis in her power? cried she: now God be praised that they are
safe, for certes it had been great misadventure if two such good men
had so perished? She will be ready for pure vexation to inflict the
death upon herself which she designed for them. Truly, quoth the King,
that would be more justly done. So the Lady went her way.
_CHAPTER 40._
Twelve days together did King Lisuarte continue his court, and, when
it broke up, though many Knights departed to their own lands, it was
a wonder how many remained, and in like manner many Dames and Damsels
continued to abide with the Queen. Among those whom the King received
into his company were the cousins Ladasin and Guilan the pensive, both
good Knights, but Guilan was the better of the twain, for in the whole
kingdom of London there was none who surpassed him in worth; but so
absent was he, that none could enjoy his conversation or company, and
of this love was the cause, and that to a Lady who neither loved him
nor any thing else to such an excess: her name was Brandalisa, sister
to the Queen of Sobradisa, and married to the Duke of Bristol.
The day came whereon that Duke was summoned to appear and answer the
appeal of Olivas. The Duke arrived, and was courteously by the King
received. Sir, quoth he, you have summoned me to answer an accusation:
he who made it lies, and I am ready to acquit myself as you shall judge
right. Then uprose Olivas, and with him all the Errant Knights present.
Lisuarte asked why they all arose. Grumedan answered, because the Duke
threatens all Knights Errant, and therefore we are all concerned.
Certes, quoth the King, a mad war hath he undertaken! there is not in
the world a King so mighty, or so wise, that he could bring a war like
that to good issue! but retire you at present, and seek not now to
avenge yourselves: he shall have full justice. All then withdrew, but
Olivas, who said, the Duke who standeth before you, Sir, hath slain my
Cousin-german, who never by word or deed gave him occasion of offence:
I therefore accuse him as a traitor for this, and will either make him
confess it, or kill him, or force him out of the lists. The Duke told
him he lied, and that he was ready to acquit himself. The combat was
fixed for the next day, for the Duke's two nephews who were to fight on
his side were not yet arrived.
They came that evening; the Duke made such account of them that he
thought Olivas could not produce their peers. They went before the
King. Olivas defied the Duke, who demanded battle, three to three. Then
Don Galvanes, who was at the feet of the King, rose, and called his
nephew Agrayes, and said to Olivas, Friend, we promised to be on your
side if need was: now then let the battle be. When the Duke saw them,
he remembered how they had rescued the Damsel whom he would have burnt,
and he was somewhat abashed. They armed themselves, and entered the
place appointed for such trials; one party through the one gate, the
other on the opposite side. From the Queen's window Olinda overlooked
the lists, and seeing Agrayes about to fight her heart failed her; and
Mabilia and Oriana were greatly grieved for the love they bore to him
and Galvanes. The lists were cleared: the King withdrew from them, and
the champions ran their encounter. Agrayes and his Uncle dismounted
their enemies, and broke both their lances. Olivas made the Duke fall
on his horse's neck, but received a deep wound himself, and the Duke
recovered his seat. Agrayes rode at him, and laid on him a heavy load
of blows, heartily hating him for his great discourtesy and falsehood;
but one of the dismounted Knights struck at the Prince's horse, and
buried the sword in his flank: the horse fell, and the Duke and his
Nephew both assailed Agrayes as he lay upon the ground. Don Galvanes,
closely busied with his antagonist, saw nothing of this. At that hour
all who loved Agrayes were in great consternation; Amadis yearned to
be among them, for he greatly feared his cousin's death; the three
Damsels above were well nigh desperate, and it was pitiful to behold
Olinda, what she suffered. Howbeit, Agrayes got on his feet, and with
the good sword of Amadis, which he wielded, laid lustily about him. Ah,
God, cried Galaor aloud, what is Olivas about this while! better that
he had never borne arms, if he fails at a time like this! But Galaor
knew not what sore agony Olivas suffered; for he had such a wound,
and bled so fast, that it was a wonder how he kept his seat. He saw
the peril of Agrayes, and heaving a deep sigh, as one whose heart did
not fail him though his strength was failing, he cried, Oh God, let
me help my good friend before my soul depart! and then, feebly as he
could, he laid hand to sword and turned upon the Duke, and his spirit
kept him up. Agrayes was now left man to man, and he remembered that
his Lady saw him, and he laid on so furiously that his friends trembled
lest his strength and breath should fail him; but this was his custom,
and if his strength had been equal to his great courage, he would
have been one of the best Knights in the world; but even as it was he
was right good, and of great prowess. Anon he had cut through armour
and flesh in sundry places, and left his foe quivering with death, at
the same moment when Olivas, fainting for loss of blood, fell from
his horse. The Duke not seeing how Agrayes had fared, turned upon
Galvanes; Agrayes leaped upon Olivas's horse, and rode to his Uncle's
assistance: he smote the Duke's Nephew upon the helmet, so that the
sword stuck there; and plucking it away, he burst the lacings, and
left him bareheaded to the wrath of Galvanes, while he turned upon the
Duke. Presently Galvanes having finished his enemy, attacked the Duke
on the other side, but his horse being wounded fell and bruised him,
so that man to man were left. Still were all the beholders right glad;
but above all Don Guilan, who hoped to see the Duke slain, for the love
he bore to his wife. The Duke was flying, Agrayes reached the rim of
his shield, the sword went in, the Duke threw off the shield from his
neck, and still fled; then turned, while Agrayes was recovering his
sword, and struck twice at him. The Prince, as soon as his weapon was
free, requited him with a blow on the left shoulder that went through
harness and flesh and bone, down to the ribs. The Duke fell, but hung
in the stirrup, and the horse dragged him out of the lists, and when
he was picked up his head was found dashed to pieces by the horse's
heels. Agrayes forthwith alighted, and ran to his uncle, and asked how
he fared. Bravely, quoth Galvanes, God be thanked! but I am right sorry
for Olivas, for methinks he is dead. They then cast the two nephews out
of the lists; then went to Olivas, and found that he had just opened
his eyes, and was asking to be confessed. Galvanes looked at his wound:
take heart, cried he, it is not in a dangerous place! Sir, replied
Olivas, my heart and all my limbs are dying away; I have been sore
wounded ere now, but never was in such weakness. They disarmed him,
and the fresh air was of service, and the blood somewhat ceased. The
King sent a bed whereon to remove him, and skilful surgeons dressed his
wound, and said that though it was very deep, by God's help they could
heal it.
The Queen then sent Grumedan to bring Brandalisa to court, and, with
her, her niece Aldeva: Thereat was Don Guilan well pleased, and in
a month they arrived, and were honourably welcomed. So the fame of
King Lisuarte went abroad, and in half a year it was a marvel how
many Knights came from foreign parts to serve him, whom he rewarded
bountifully, hoping by their aid not only to preserve his own kingdom,
but to conquer others, that in old times had been subject and tributary
to Great Britain.
_CHAPTER 41._
This history has related to you how Amadis promised Briolania to
revenge her father's death, and how she gave him a sword, and that when
in his combat with Gasinan he broke the sword, he gave the pieces to
Gandalin's care: You shall now hear how the battle was performed, and
what great danger he underwent because of that broken sword, not from
any fault of his own, but for the ignorance of his dwarf Ardian.
Amadis, now recollecting that the time was come to perform his promise,
acquainted Oriana, and requested her leave, though to him it was like
dividing his heart from his bosom to leave her; and she granted it,
albeit with many tears, and a sorrow that seemed to presage what evil
was about to happen. Amadis took the Queen's leave for form's sake, and
departed with Galaor and Agrayes. They had gone about half a league,
when he asked Gandalin if he had brought the three pieces of the sword
which Briolania had given him, and finding he had not, bade him return
and fetch them. The Dwarf said he would go, for he had nothing to delay
him; and this was the means whereby Amadis and Oriana were both brought
into extreme misery, neither they nor the Dwarf himself being culpable.
The Dwarf rode back to his master's lodging, found the pieces of the
sword, put them in his skirt, and was retiring, when, as he passed the
palace, he heard himself called. Looking up, he saw Oriana and Mabilia,
who asked him why he had not gone with his master. I set out with him,
said he, but returned for this; and he showed her the broken sword.
What can your master want a broken sword for? quoth Oriana. Because,
said the Dwarf, he values it more than the two best whole ones, for her
sake who gave it him.—And who is she—The Lady for whom he undertakes
this combat, and though you are daughter to the best King in the world,
yet, fair as you are, you would rather win what she has won, than
possess all your father's lands.—What gain so precious hath she made?
perchance she hath gained your master?—Yes, she has, his whole heart!
and he remains her Knight to serve her! Then, giving his horse the
lash, he gallopped away, little thinking the wrong he had done. Oriana
remained pale as death; she burst into bitter reproaches against the
falsehood of Amadis, and wrung her hands, and her heart was so agitated
that not a tear did she shed. It was in vain that Mabilia and the
Damsel of Denmark strove to allay her rage with reasonable words: as
passionate women will do, she followed her own will, which led her to
commit so great an error, that God's mercy was necessary to repair it.
The Dwarf rejoined his master, and showed him the pieces of his sword,
but Amadis asked him no questions, and he said nothing of what had
passed. Presently they met a Damsel, who asked whither they were
going.—Along this road.—I advise you to leave it.—Why?—Because no
Knight hath taken it for fifteen days but he hath been either slain
or wounded. And who hath done all this mischief? quoth Amadis.—The
best Knight in arms that I have ever seen. Damsel, said Agrayes, you
must shew us this Knight.—He will shew himself so soon as you enter
the forest. The Damsel then followed them; they looked all round the
forest in vain, till, as they were at the other side thereof, they saw
a Knight of good stature completely armed, on a roan horse, holding
a lance, and a Squire by him with four other lances. He speaking to
his Squire, the man laid the lances against a tree, and came up to
the Knights.—Sirs, yonder Knight sends to inform ye that he hath kept
this forest for fifteen days against all Knights Errant with fair
fortune, and for the pleasure of the joust hath yet stayed a day and
a half longer than his time appointed; he says, that if it please you
to joust with him he is ready, but there shall be no sword combat,
for in that he hath done much evil against his own will, and will
avoid it henceforth if he can. Agrayes had taken his helm and thrown
the shield round his neck, while the Squire was speaking: tell him to
defend himself! quoth he. They ran their race; their spears brake, and
Agrayes was dismounted, and his horse ran loose, whereat he was greatly
ashamed. Galaor took his arms to avenge him; the lances were broken:
their bodies met with such force, that Galaor's horse, being the
weaker and more weary, fell and threw him, and then ran away. Amadis
seeing this, blessed himself: in truth, said he, the Knight may well
be praised, for he hath proved himself against two of the best in the
world; but as he went on to take his turn he found Galaor on foot,
with his sword in hand defying the Knight to battle, but the Knight
laughed at him; and Amadis said, brother, do not chafe yourself; it was
the covenant that there should be no sword-battle. Then he bade the
stranger defend himself, and they ran at each other: their spears flew
up in splinters; they came against each other, shield and helmet; the
horse fell with Amadis, and the horse broke his shoulder; the Knight of
the forest was dismounted, but he held the reins, and lightly took the
saddle again. Quoth Amadis, you must joust again, for this encounter
was equal, we both fell. I do not chuse to joust again, said he. Amadis
replied, Knight, you do me wrong. Right yourself when you can! said
the other: I am bound no farther, as I sent to tell you! and then he
gallopped away through the forest.
Amadis leapt upon Gandalin's horse, and told his companions to follow
him as fast as they could to find that Knight, for they were all
greatly abashed. Quoth the Damsel, it will be a foolish quest: all the
Knights of King Lisuarte's household would fail to find him without a
guide. My friend, said Galaor, belike you know who he is, and where
to be found? If I do, quoth she, I mean not to tell you, for I would
bring no harm to so good a man. Ah, Damsel, said Galaor, by the faith
you owe to God, and by the thing in the world which you love best, tell
me what you know of him. She answered, I care not for these conjurings,
and will not discover him for nothing. Ask what you will, quoth
Amadis.—Tell me your name, and promise me each a boon hereafter, when
I shall demand it. They in their earnestness promised. When she heard
the name of Amadis, she exclaimed, God be praised, for I was seeking
you!—And wherefore?—You shall know when it is time; but tell me, have
you forgot your promise to the daughter of the King of Sobradisa,
who let loose the lions to save you? I am now going, replied Amadis,
to perform the battle. Why then, quoth she, would you turn astray to
follow this Knight, who is not so easy to find as you imagine, when
your day is appointed for the combat? She says true, Sir brother, said
Galaor: go you with Agrayes upon this business; I will follow the
Knight with this Damsel, for I shall never have joy till I find him,
and I will join you in time for the battle if it be possible. In God's
name! cried Amadis, but tell us, Damsel, the name of the Knight.—I know
it not, yet once I was a month with him and saw never else such deeds
of arms; but I can show where he is to be found. Then Galaor departed
with her.
Amadis and Agrayes proceeded till they came to the castle of Torin, the
dwelling of that fair young Damsel, who was now grown so beautiful that
she appeared like a bright star. What think you of her? said Amadis.
Agrayes answered, if her Maker designed to make her beautiful, he has
most perfectly accomplished his will. They were disarmed, and mantles
given them, and they were conducted into the hall. But when Briolania
saw Amadis how young he was, for he was not twenty, and how beautiful,
for even the scars in his face became him, and of what fair renown he
was, she thought him the best Knight in the world, and greatly affected
him; so that when by his help she had recovered her kingdom, she would
have given him herself and that, but Amadis told her right loyally how
he was another's.
_CHAPTER 42._
Four days Galaor rode with the Damsel, and so wrathful was he for
this fall that whatever Knight encountered him in that time felt the
effects, and many were slain for the act of another. At length they saw
a fair fortress, built above a vale; the Damsel told him there was no
other place near where he could lodge that night, and they made up to
it. At the gate they found many men and Dames and Damsels, so that it
seemed to be the house of a good man, and among them was a Knight of
seventy years, with a cloak of scarlet skin, who courteously bade him
welcome. Sir, quoth Galaor, you welcome us so well, that, tho' we found
another host, we would not leave your hospitality. Then were they led
into a hall, and supper was given them right honourably; and, when the
cloths were removed, the old Knight went to Galaor and asked him if
the Damsel was to be his bedfellow. He replied, no; and two Damsels
then conducted her to her chamber, while he was shewn a rich bed for
himself. Here rest yourself, said his host: God knows the pleasure I
have in entertaining you, and all Errant Knights, for I myself have
been one, and have two sons who are the like, but both now are badly
wounded, for there came by a Knight who dismounted them both, and they
greatly ashamed of their foil rode after him, and came up to him by a
river as he was about to cross it in a boat; and they would have made
him do battle with the sword, since they knew how he could joust. The
Knight, who was in haste, would have declined the battle, but my sons
prevented him from entering the boat. A Lady who was in the boat then
said to them, that they were discourteous in detaining her Knight
against her will; but they said, he must needs do battle. Let it be,
then, said the Lady, that he shall fight with the better of you twain,
and if he conquer him that shall suffice. Not so, they answered; if one
failed, the other would prove his fortune. The Knight then grew angry,
and cried, come both, since you will not let me proceed! and one after
the other he sent them from their horses, utterly confounded; then
crossed the river and went his way. I went afterwards to bring home
my sons, for they were sorely wounded: you shall see with what wounds,
such as never before were given by any Knight. He then sent for the
armour which they had worn, and it was so cut through with the sword
that Galaor greatly marvelled, and asked what arms the Knight bore.—A
vermilion shield with two grey lions, and another on his helmet, and
he rides a roan horse. Know you who he is? cried Galaor. No, said the
old Knight. It is the same Knight whom I am seeking, quoth Galaor, and,
if I find him, I will revenge your two sons and myself, or die. Sir
friend, quoth his host, I would counsel you to forbear the attempt, for
as for what my sons have suffered they brought it on themselves; and
then he bade him good night.
The next morning Galaor and his guide departed; they crossed the river
in the boat, and proceeding about five leagues came to a fortress. Wait
for me a little, said the Damsel; I will be here presently: and she
entered the castle. Presently she returned, bringing with her another
Damsel and ten Knights on horseback; and that other Damsel, who was
passing fair, said to Galaor, Sir, my Cousin tells me you are in quest
of the Knight who bears two grey lions in a vermilion shield, that you
may know who he is; but I tell you that you cannot learn by force, for
there is no Knight like him in all the islands, and he will neither
tell you nor any other for three years, unless it be forced from him.
Damsel, said Galaor, I shall not cease my enquiry, and would rather
learn his name by force than by other means. Since that be so, said
she, within three days I will bring you to him, at my Cousin's request.
They set forth, and by vespers time came to an arm of the sea that
clipped round an island, so that there was full three leagues of water
to cross; a bark was ready at the harbour, but before they entered it
an oath was demanded, that there was only one Knight in company. Why
is this oath required? said Galaor. The Damsel replied, the Lady of
the island will have it so; when one Knight has crost over, no other
is suffered to come till the first return, or is slain.—Who is it that
kills or conquers them?—The Knight whom you are seeking; he has been
here half a year, and by this occasion: a turney was held here by the
Lady of the island, and another Dame of great beauty; this Knight came
hither from a foreign land, and being on her side won the victory.
Whereat she was so pleased, that she never rested till she had won him
for her paramour; but because he is desirous of seeking adventures,
the Lady, to detain him with her, invites Knights to joust against
him. If by chance they are slain, they are there interred; otherwise,
they are sent back, and he gives their arms and horses to his mistress.
She is a full fair Lady, and her name Corisanda; the island is called
Gravisanda. How came he, said Galaor, to keep the forest? It was a boon
asked of him by a Damsel, said she, tho' his mistress hardly permitted
him to perform it.
By this they had reached the island; the night was some way advanced,
but it was clear moonlight, the Damsel had two tents pitched beside
a little brook, and there they supped, and rested till the morning.
Galaor would fain have shared the Damsel's tent, but to that, albeit,
she thought him the fairest of all Knights and much delighted in his
conversation, she would not consent. In the morning they set forward,
and he asked his guide if she knew the Knight's name?—Neither man nor
woman in all this land know it, except his mistress. Then was Galaor
the more curious that one of such worth in arms should so conceal
himself. Presently they saw a castle on a height, surrounded for a
league on all sides by a rich plain. In that castle, quoth the Damsel,
is he whom you seek. Having advanced farther, they found a stone
pillar curiously wrought, and a horn upon it. Sound that horn, said
she, and you shall presently see the Knight. Galaor blew the horn, and
forthwith there came certain men from the castle, and pitched a tent
in the meadow before the gate, and then there issued out ten Dames and
Damsels, and in the midst of them one richly clad, who was the Lady of
the rest. Why does the Knight tarry? quoth Galaor, who saw all this.
The Damsel answered, he will not come till the Lady send for him. I
beseech you then, said he, go to her and request her to summon him, for
I have much to do elsewhere and cannot tarry. When the Lady heard this
errand, what! cried she, holds he our Knight so cheap that he already
thinks of doing ought elsewhere? he will depart sooner than he thinks,
and more to his cost. Then she turned to her man: go, call the strange
Knight. Anon he came from the castle, armed and afoot; his men led
his horse, and carried his shield and lance and helmet, and he went
straight to his mistress. You see a foolish Knight yonder, said she,
who thinks lightly to take his leave of you: I desire you would make
him know his foolishness! and then she embraced, and kissed him. All
this made Galaor the more angry.
The Knight mounted, and slowly rode down the height. Galaor was ready
as soon as he saw him in the level, and bade him defend himself: they
ran at each other; both lances were broken, both shields pierced, both
Knights deeply wounded. Don Galaor drew his sword: the stranger said
to him, Knight, by the faith you owe to God, and to the thing you love
best, let us joust once more! You conjure me so, said Galaor, that I
will do it, but I am sorry my horse is not so good as yours, else we
would joust till one of us fell, or till all your lances were broken!
The Knight made no answer, but called to his Squire for two lances,
and sent the one to Galaor. Again they encountered: Galaor's horse
came on his knees and tottered, and was almost down; the stranger lost
both his stirrups, and was fain to hold round the neck of his horse.
Galaor spurred up his and had now sword in hand; thereat the stranger,
somewhat abashed, exclaimed, you are desirous to do combat with the
sword; certes, I fear it rather for you than for myself: if you do not
believe me, you shall see. Do your worst! quoth Galaor: I will either
die, or revenge those whom you left in the forest. Then the stranger
recollected that it was he who had defied him on foot, and he answered
him angrily, revenge yourself if you can, but I rather think you will
carry back one shame upon another.
The Ladies, seeing how gallantly they had jousted, thought they would
then have accorded, but when they saw the sword-battle, they were
greatly amazed at the fury with which it was begun. Such mortal blows
they gave each other, that the head was often made to bow upon the
breast, and the steel [50:A]arches of the helmets were cut through, and
their trappings, and the sword went through the linings and was felt
upon the head; and the field was strewn with the fragments of their
shields and their broken mail. This continued long, till each wondered
that his antagonist could hold out. Galaor's horse at last began to
fail him, and could scarcely move, whereat he waxed exceeding wroth,
thinking that only this delayed his victory, for the stranger could
lightly come on, and withdraw again from his blows. Galaor, when indeed
he did reach him, made him feel the sword, but his horse tottered as
if he had been blind, and he began to fear his own death more than
he had ever done before in any battle, save in that with his brother
Amadis, for from that he never expected to leave off alive. Next to
Amadis, he thought this the best Knight he had ever encountered,
albeit he doubted not of conquering him, were it not for the fault of
his horse. Being in this strait, he called out. Knight! either finish
the battle on foot, or give me another horse, or else I will slay
yours, and that villainy will be your fault. Do your worst! replied
the stranger: the battle shall not be delayed; it is a great shame
that it hath lasted so long. Look to your horse then! quoth Galaor.
The Knight rode close to him, fearing for his horse; so close, that
Galaor caught him with both arms, and at the same instant spurred his
own horse violently, and they both fell upon the ground, each holding
his sword, and there they struggled for some time before they released
each other. But, when they rose, they attacked again so furiously as if
the battle were but then beginning; there was not a moment's respite,
now that they could freely close or strike. As the fight continued
Galaor perceived he was gaining the better, for his enemy's strength
evidently weakened: Good Knight! quoth he, hold a while! whereat the
other paused, being indeed in need of rest. You see, quoth Galaor,
that I have the better of the battle; tell me your name, and why you
so carefully conceal yourself, and I will acquit you from the combat
and shall receive great pleasure; but unless you do this I will not
leave you. Certes, quoth the Knight, I shall not leave off with these
conditions: I never found myself so hardy in any battle as in this,
and God forbid that any single Knight should ever know me, except to
my great honour. Be not rash, cried Galaor; by my faith I swear never
to let you go till I know who you are, and why you conceal yourself.
God never help me, quoth the stranger, if ever you learn it from me:
I will rather perish in battle than tell it, except to two Knights,
to whom, tho' I know them not, I neither could nor ought to deny any
thing. Who are they whom you value so much? quoth Galaor. Neither shall
you know that, replied the stranger, because it seems that it would
please you. Certes, rejoined Galaor; I will know what I ask, or one of
us, or both, shall die. I am not averse to that, quoth his enemy. Then
they renewed the combat with full fury; but the stranger waxed weaker,
his armour was every where laid open and streaming with blood, till at
last the Lady of the Island ran like one frantic to Galaor, and cried,
hold, Knight! would the bark had been sunk that brought thee hither!
Lady, said he, if it offends you that I am avenging myself, and one who
is better than myself, the fault is not mine. Offer him no more harm,
quoth she, or you shall die by the hands of one who will have no mercy.
He answered, I know not how that may turn out, but I will not leave him
till I know what I have asked.—And what is that?—His name, and why he
conceals it? and who the two Knights are whom he esteems above the rest
of the world. She answered, A curse upon him who taught you to strike,
and upon you who have learnt so well! I will tell you: his name is Don
Florestan; he conceals himself because he hath two brothers in this
land of such passing worth in arms, that, albeit you have proved his
prowess, he dares not make himself known to them, till, by his fame, he
is worthy to join them; and these two Knights are in the household of
King Lisuarte, the one is called Amadis, the other Don Galaor, and they
are all three sons of King Perion. Holy Mary! cried Galaor, what have
I done? and then he presented his sword to Florestan: good brother,
take my sword, and the honour of the battle!—Are you my brother?—I
am your brother Don Galaor. Then Florestan fell on his knees before
him, saying, Sir, pardon me! for this offence that I have committed in
combatting against you, was caused by no other reason than that I durst
not name myself your brother, as I am, till I had somewhat resembled
you in prowess. Galaor raised him up, and took him in his arms, and
wept over him for joy, and for sorrow to see him so sorely wounded.
[50:A] Cortando de los yelmos los arcos de azero con parte
de las faldas dellos, assi qui las espadas descendian a los
almofares, y las sentian en las cabeças.
But the Lady beholding all this was greatly rejoiced. Sir, quoth she,
if you gave me great anguish you have repaid it with double pleasure.
They were then both carried into the castle and laid in bed, both in
one apartment, and Corisanda, being skilful in chirurgery, looked to
their wounds herself with great care; for she knew that if the one
died, the other would die also for pure sorrow, and her own life would
be doubtful if Florestan were in great danger.
_CHAPTER 43._
This valiant and hardy Knight, Don Florestan, you should know how and
in what land he was begotten, and by whom. Know then that when King
Perion, being a young man and of good heart, sought adventures, he
passed two years in Germany, doing great deeds in arms, and as he was
returning with great glory to his own land, he lodged one day with the
Count of Selandia, where he was right worshipfully entertained, and
at night he was shewn to a rich bed, and there being weary with his
journey fell asleep. Ere long he felt a Damsel embracing him, and her
mouth joined to his; and, waking thereat, was drawing back, but she
cried out, how is this, Sir? would you rather be alone in the bed? The
King then looked at her by his chamber-light, and saw the fairest woman
that ever he saw: tell me, quoth he, who you are? She answered, one
that loves you, and gives you her love.—First tell me your name?—Why
do you distress me with the question?—I must know.—I am the Count's
daughter. Then the King said, it becomes not a woman of your rank to
commit this folly: I tell you I will not do this wrong to your father.
Ah, quoth she, ill betide those who praise your goodness! you are the
worst man in the world, and the most discourteous! what goodness can
there be in you when you thrust away a fair Lady of such lineage? King
Perion answered, I shall do that which is to your honour and my own,
not what would injure both. Then, quoth she, I will do that which shall
grieve my father more, than if you consent to my will! and she leapt
up and took King Perion's sword, that same sword which was laid in the
ark with Amadis, and unsheathed it, and placed the point against her
heart:—Will not my father grieve more for my death? When the King saw
that, he was greatly astonished, and he sprung from the bed, crying,
hold! I will perform your will! and he snatched the sword from her,
and that night she became pregnant. On the morrow Perion departed, and
never saw her more.
She, so long as she could, concealed her situation, and when the time
drew nigh contrived to go visit her Aunt, with one Damsel; but as she
was passing through a forest her pains came on her, and she alighted
from her palfrey, and there brought forth a son. The Damsel seeing
her in this plight, put the baby to her breast. Now, Lady, said she,
the same courage that you showed in sinning, show now in supporting
yourself till I return; and then she mounted her palfrey, and rode on
as fast as she could to the Aunt's castle, and told her all that had
happened. The Dame was greatly troubled, yet delayed not for that to
succour her, but went forthwith with a litter, wherein she used to
visit her brother to shade her from the sun; and when she saw her niece
she alighted, and wept with her, and had her placed with the infant in
the litter, and taken by night into the castle, and enjoined secrecy to
all who were with her. So the mother returned after her recovery to the
Count's castle, and nothing was known of what had passed, and the boy
was educated till he was of eighteen years, a braver youth, and better
limbed than any other in the district; and the Dame his Aunt seeing
this gave him horse and arms, and took him to the Count to knight him,
who knew not that he whom he was knighting was his own grandson.
As they were returning, the Dame told him the secret of his birth, and
said that he ought to go seek his father and make himself known to him.
Certes, Lady, quoth he, I have often heard of King Perion, but never
thought he was my father; but by the faith I owe to God, and to you who
have brought me up, neither he nor any one else shall know who I am,
till they can say that I am worthy to be the son of so good a man. Then
taking his leave, he went with two Squires to Constantinople, where he
heard there was a cruel war; there he remained four years, and did such
deeds in arms as never Knight had wrought before in those parts, so
that at the end of that time he determined to go and discover himself
to his father. But as he drew nearer France, he heard the fame of
Amadis and Galaor, who were now beginning to work wonders, so that he
changed his first intention, and resolved to gain more honour in Great
Britain, where there were more good Knights than in any part of the
world, and that he would not make himself known till his prowess had
given him sufficient renown: in which mind he continued till his combat
with Galaor, as you have heard.
Amadis and Agrayes remained five days at the castle of Torin; then all
things being prepared, they set forward with Briolania and her aunt,
who took with them two damsels and five serving-men, on horseback,
and three palfreys laden with apparel, for Briolania went in black,
and would wear nothing else till her father's death was avenged. As
they began their journey Briolania requested a boon of Amadis, and
her Aunt another of Agrayes; the which they granted, without knowing
what it might be: they then demanded, that, let what would happen, the
Knights should not leave the road, that so their present quest might
not be interrupted. Much did they repent their promise, and great
shame did they endure thereby, for in many places was their succour
needed, and rightly might they have bestirred themselves if they had
been at liberty. Thus they travelled twelve days before they entered
the kingdom of Sobradisa; it was night when they reached it: they left
the high road, and struck by a by-way for three leagues; and then,
great part of the night being past, they came to a little castle, where
a Lady dwelt named Galumba, who had served in the court of the King
Briolania's father. She right joyfully admitted them, and set supper
before them, and provided their night's entertainment; and the next
morning asked the Aunt whither they were going. A joyful woman was she,
hearing that those Knights were going to revenge her Master's death;
but I fear, said she, lest that traitor should destroy them by some
deceit: for that reason, said the old Lady, am I come to consult with
you. Leave it to me, quoth Galumba. Then she took ink and parchment,
and wrote a letter, and sealed it with Briolania's seal, and gave it
to a Damsel, and directed her what she should do. The Damsel mounted
her palfrey, and rode on till she came to the great city of Sobradisa,
from whence the whole kingdom took its name. She went directly to the
palace of Abiseos, and rode through the gate, being richly apparelled.
The Knights came around to assist her to dismount; but she said, no,
she would not alight till the King saw her, and commanded her so to
do. They then took her bridle, and led her into a hall where the King
was, with his sons and many other Knights, and he bade her alight if
she had any thing to say. She answered, I will, Sir, on condition that
you protect me, and that I shall suffer no injury for any thing that I
may say against you, or against any other here. The King assured her
that she should be under his protection and royal faith, and bade her
deliver what she was come to say. Upon that she alighted, and said,
Sir, I bring a message which must be delivered in the presence of all
the chiefs of your realm: summon them, and it shall be made known.
Quoth Abiseos, it is as you would wish: they are already in my court,
and have been assembled on business these six days. Call them together,
said she. Forthwith they were summoned, and being all met, the Damsel
then said, King, Briolania, she whom you disherited, sends you this
letter, to be read before this assembly. When Abiseos heard the name
of his niece he was touched with shame, remembering the wrong he had
wrought her; yet, the letter was openly read, which was to give credit
to the Damsel's words. To this he only replied, that they were not to
believe what the Damsel might say on Briolania's behalf: but the people
of the realm who were there present were moved with great compassion
at the name of their lawful Lady, who was so unjustly dispossessed,
and they besought God secretly that he would no longer suffer so great
a treason to remain unpunished. Give your errand, quoth the King.
Sir King, said the Damsel, it is true that you killed the father of
Briolania, and have disherited her of her kingdom; and you have often
declared, that you and your sons would justify what you have done by
force of arms. Briolania now sends to say, that if you hold your word
she will bring here two Knights who will undertake the battle in her
cause, and make you know your treason and great tyranny. When Darasion,
the eldest of the sons heard this, he arose in great anger, being of
a hot nature, and without his father's permission replied, Damsel,
if Briolania has these Knights, I promise the combat for myself, and
for my father and brother; and, if I do not perform this, I promise
before all these Knights to give my head to her, that she may take it
in requital of her father's. Certes Darasion, answered the Damsel, you
answer like a Knight of great courage, yet may I doubt your words to
proceed from choler, for I see you are enraged; but if you will obtain
from the King an assurance of your words, I shall think they proceed
from that great worth and hardihood which are in you. What would you
have? quoth he. Cause the King, she replied, to give our Knights
assurance that, for any mishap which you may receive in the battle,
they shall sustain no injury from any in this land, nor be meddled
withal but by you three: give them this safe conduct, and they will
be here within three days. Darasion knelt down before his father;—you
see, Sir, what the Damsel requests, and what I have promised; and,
because my honour is yours, let it be granted, else they will without
danger have put us to shame, for we have always avowed that if any
one attainted your deeds we would justify it in battle; and even
without the promise we ought to accept the defiance, for they tell me
these Knights are some of King Lisuarte's rash household, whose pride
and folly makes them magnify their own worth and despise all others.
The King, albeit he felt himself guilty of his brother's murder, and
dreaded the battle, yet, because he loved his son as he did himself,
gave the safe conduct as the Damsel had demanded, the hour appointed by
the Most High being come. The Damsel having accomplished this, said,
hold yourselves ready, for to-morrow the Knights will be here. And then
she mounted her palfrey, and departed.
Much were the Ladies and the Knights rejoiced at the success of her
embassy. When Amadis heard that Darasion held them as fools, because
they were of King Lisuarte's household, he grew angry, and exclaimed,
there are those in that household who could easily break his pride, and
his head too! but, when he had said this, he was ashamed that he had
been so mastered by anger. Briolania, who could not keep her eyes off
him, observed this, and said, you cannot, Sir, either say or do any
thing against those traitors which they have not deserved, and worse:
have pity on me, since you know my father's murder, and my wrongs: my
trust is in God and in you. Amadis, whose heart was submiss to virtue
and all gentleness, moved with pity for that fair Damsel, answered, if
God be so pleased, Lady, I ween that ere to-morrow night your sorrow
will be turned into joy. Then Briolania would, for thankfulness, have
humbled herself to have kissed his feet, but he drew back abashed, and
Agrayes raised her up. They determined to set forward by day-break, and
hear mass at the chapel of the Three Fountains, which was half a league
from Sobradisa.
That night they made good cheer, and Briolania, who talked much with
Amadis, was oftentimes moved to offer marriage to him, but seeing his
frequent reveries, and the tears that sometimes fell down his cheeks,
which she knew proceeded from no fear in his brave heart, she suspected
that he loved elsewhere, and so refrained. At dawn they all departed;
and, arriving at the Three Fountains, heard mass from the good Hermit,
who hearing wherefore they were on their way, besought God to speed
them well in the battle, as he knew their cause was right. There they
armed themselves all save the head and hands, and so proceeded to
the city. Without the walls they found King Abiseos and his sons,
and a great company attending them: the people all flocked towards
Briolania, whom in their hearts they loved, thinking her their rightful
and natural Lady. Amadis led her bridle, and uncovered her face,[65:A]
that all might see her how beautiful she was: she was weeping, and the
multitude blessed her in their hearts, and prayed that she might now
be restored to her rights. Abiseos dissembled a feeling from which
neither his ambition nor his wickedness could shield him, and seeing
how the people flocked round Briolania, he exclaimed, fools, I see
how you rejoice in her sight! but it is to your honour and safety
that a Knight like me should protect you, not a weak woman; who in
so long a time has only been able to get these two Knights for her
champions; whom, because they are thus deceitfully brought to their
death, or dishonour, I cannot forbear to pity. These words so kindled
the indignation of Amadis, that blood seemed starting from his eyes;
he rose in his stirrups that all might hear him, and answered, King
Abiseos, I well see how the coming of Briolania troubles you, because
you have murdered her father, who was your King and brother: if there
be yet virtue enough in you to resign to her what is her own, I will
excuse the battle, that you may have leisure for repentance, that,
though you have lost your honour in this world, you may save your soul.
Before the King could reply, Darasion exclaimed, Thou foolish Knight
of King Lisuarte's court! I never thought I could endure to hear a
speech like thine: come on! and if your heart fails, you cannot fly
where I cannot reach you with such a vengeance, that none can behold it
without compassion. Arm thyself, traitor, and do battle! quoth Agrayes.
Darasion answered, say what thou wilt now! presently I will send thy
tongue without thy body to King Lisuarte's court, as a warning to all
such fools! Then they armed themselves; and Amadis and Agrayes laced on
their helmets, and took their shields and spears, and entered the place
which had been of yore marked out for such trials. Dramis, the second
son, who was so good a Knight that no two Knights of that country could
keep the field against him, said to his father, Sir, where you and my
brother are present, I might well be excused from speaking; but now I
have to act with that strength which I have received from God and you.
Leave that Knight who has reviled you to me: if I do not slay him with
the first lance-thrust, may I never again bear arms! or if it be his
good fortune that the spear does not strike right, the first blow with
the sword shall do it. There were many who heard this speech, and did
not think it vain boasting, he was of such exceeding strength. Darasion
looked round the lists: how is this? quoth he; ye are but two! hath the
heart of the third failed him? call him to come directly, for we will
not tarry. Trouble not yourself about the third, said Amadis, you will
presently wish the second away: now look to your defence!
[65:A] _Quitole los antifazes._ She was muffled in the Moorish
manner, not veiled.
They placed their shields before them, and gave their horses the rein.
Dramis ran right at Amadis, and pierced his shield and broke his lance
against his side; but Amadis smote him so roughly, that the spear went
through his shield, and, without piercing his breast-plate, burst his
heart within him, and he fell like the fall of a tower. In God's name,
cried Ardian the Dwarf, my Master's deed is better than his word! The
other twain ran at Agrayes: he and Darasion broke their lances upon
each other, and both kept their seats. Abiseos failed in his course;
he saw Dramis on the ground, and in great grief, albeit he did not
suppose him to be dead, ran full at Amadis, and pierced his shield, and
broke the lance in his arm, so that all thought he could not continue
the battle. Well may you think how Briolania felt at that; her heart
sunk, and the sight of her eyes failed her, and without support she
would have fallen from her palfrey. But he, who was not to be dismayed
by such wounds, graspt well that good sword which he had so lately
recovered from Arcalaus, and struck Abiseos upon the helm; through helm
it went, and slanted down the head, and pierced into the shoulder; a
slant wound, but so staggering that Abiseos tottered on his seat, and
fell, half senseless. Then he of Gaul rode up to Darasion, who was
close engaged with Agrayes:—now Darasion, you had rather the second
were absent, than that the third were come! Agrayes cried out to him
to hold:—Cousin, you have done enough, leave me this man who has
threatened to cut out my tongue. Amadis did not hear him; he had made a
blow which sliced off a part of the shield, and came through the pummel
of the saddle to the horse's neck; but Darasion, as he past, ran his
sword into the belly of Amadis's horse; the horse instantly ran away;
the reins broke in the rider's hand, and Amadis seeing that he had
no remedy, and that he should be carried out of the lists, struck the
beast between the ears with his sword, and split his head; the fall
bruised him sorely, but he arose, and turned to Abiseos.
At this time Agrayes had driven his sword into Darasion's helmet, so
that he could not recover it. Darasion had forced it from his hand,
and was driving at him. Agrayes grappled him; they fell together and
struggled on the ground. Abiseos came up, and was lifting the skirts of
his armour to thrust his sword into him. Amadis came up in time. The
King was compelled to look to his own safety; he lifted his shield,
the blow dashed shield against helmet, and made him reel. Agrayes and
Darasion had loosed each other: Agrayes caught up Darasion's sword;
Darasion plucked the other from his helm, and ran towards his father.
Amadis saw that Agrayes was all bloody from a wound in his neck, and
fearing it was mortal, he cried, leave them to me, good cousin, and
rest yourself! I have no wound, quoth Agrayes, to keep me from aiding
you: see if it be so! Have at them, then! cried Amadis; but the fear he
felt for his cousin gave him such anger, that presently his enemies,
their armour all hacked, and their flesh too, began to turn here and
there disorderly, and with the fear of death. So it continued till the
hour of tierce, when Abiseos, seeing death before him, lifted his sword
in both hands, and ran desperately at Amadis, and gave him a blow,
such as might not be looked for from a man so wounded: it cut away the
brim of the helmet, and the shoulder mail and a part of the flesh with
it. Amadis felt it sorely, and did not delay to give him his wages: he
struck his shoulder, and lopt off that arm with which he had murdered
his own king and brother; arm and shoulder he lopt off, and cried, that
arm brought thee by treason to the throne, and it now brings thee to
death and the depth of hell! The King had fallen in the pangs of death.
Amadis looked round him, and saw that Agrayes had smitten off the head
of Darasion. Then the people of the land went joyfully to kiss the hand
of Briolania their [70:A]Lady.
[70:A] There follows in the original a page of advice to all
wicked kings and rulers.
The conquerors dragged their enemies out of the lists. Amadis, though
he was much wounded, would not disarm himself till he knew if there
were any to gainsay Briolania's right. But one of the chiefs of the
realm, by name Goman, came before him with an hundred men of his
lineage and household, and they declared that they had only endured the
usurpation of Abiseos because they had no remedy: now God had delivered
them, they were in that loyalty and vassallage which they owed to
Briolania. Within eight days all the kingdom came joyfully to do homage
to her. Amadis meantime was laid in bed, and that fair Queen never left
him but when she went to sleep herself. Agrayes, who was dangerously
wounded, was put under the care of a skilful man, who suffered none to
approach him, that he might not speak, for the wound was in his throat.
_CHAPTER 44._
Don Galaor and Florestan remained in the castle of Corisanda till their
wounds were well healed, then took they their departure; but Corisanda
made such sorrow that it was pitiful to see her, albeit Florestan
comforted her, and assured her of his speedy return. They crossed to
the mainland, and proceeded towards Sobradisa, hoping to arrive there
before the battle. Brother, quoth Florestan, as they rode along, grant
me a boon for courtesy. Sir, and good brother, cried Galaor, is it a
thing that I shall repent? You will not repent it, said Florestan.—Ask
it then; for what I can grant without shame, I shall grant with good
will.—I ask then, that you will attempt no combat in this journey
till I have tried my fortune. Certes, quoth Galaor, I repent. Not so,
replied Florestan, for if there be any worth in me, it is to your
honour as well as to mine. Four days they rode without adventure:
on the fifth at evening they came to a Tower. A Knight, who stood at
the court-gate, courteously invited them for the night; and there
were they worshipfully entertained. The Knight their host, was a fair
Knight and a wise, and of goodly stature; but oftentimes he appeared
so lost in thought and sadness, that the brethren asked each other
what it might mean, and Don Galaor at last said to him, Sir, methinks
you are not so chearful as you should be! if your sadness is for any
cause which our aid can remedy, tell us, and we will do your will.
Many thanks, replied he of the Tower: I believe you would do so like
good Knights; but my sadness proceeds from the force of love, and I
will not tell you more now, for it would be to my own great shame. The
hour of sleeping came on; their host went to his apartment, and the
brethren remained in a handsome chamber where there were two beds. In
the morning he rode to bear them company, but unarmed; and, that he
might see whether they were such in arms as their appearance bespoke
them, he led them not along the high road, but through bye ways, till
they came to a place called the fountain of the Three Elms, for there
were three great and lofty Elm-trees above the fountain. Three fair
Damsels and well apparelled, were by the fountain, and there was a
Dwarf aloft in the trees. Florestan went first and saluted them gently,
as a courteous man, and one who had been gently bred. God save you, Sir
Knight, quoth the one; if you are as brave as you are handsome, God
hath gifted you well. Damsel, he replied, if my beauty pleaseth you,
my courage would please you more if it were put to proof. You answer
well, quoth she: see now, if your courage be enough to carry me from
hence.—Certes, quoth Florestan, little goodness is enough for that;
since it is your pleasure, I will do it.—He then bade his Squires place
her upon a palfrey which was tied to one of the Elms: when the Dwarf,
who was sitting up in the tree, cried out aloud, Come forth, Knights,
come forth! they are carrying away your mistress! At these words a
Knight, well armed and on a great horse, came up from the valley, and
cried out to Florestan, Knight! who bid you lay your hands upon that
Damsel? I do not think she can be yours, replied Florestan, seeing of
her own will she desired me to carry her hence. The Knight answered,
though she consent, I do not; and I have defended her against better
than you.—I know not how that may be, but unless you act up to your
words, carry her away I will!—Learn first what the Knights of the
Valley are, and how they defend their mistresses! With that they ran
at each other, and Florestan smote his shield so strongly against
his helmet that the laces brake, and the helmet came off. The Knight
could not keep his seat; he fell upon his sword, and broke it in two.
Florestan turned his horse and pointed his lance at him:—you are dead,
unless you yield the Damsel! I yield her, quoth he, and cursed be she,
and the day wherein I first beheld her, for she made me commit so many
follies that at last I have destroyed myself. Florestan left him, and
went to the Damsel, saying, you are mine! You have well won me, quoth
she, and may do with me as you please. Let us go then! said he; but
one of the other Damsels then said to him, Sir Knight, you are parting
good company; we have been a year together, and it grieves us to be
separated. Said Florestan, if you chuse to go in my company I will take
you also, otherwise you must be separated, for I will not leave so fair
a Damsel as this. And if she be fair, quoth the Damsel, neither do I
esteem myself so ugly, but that Knight should venture something for me
also; but I believe you are not of that temper. What! cried he, think
you that I would leave you here for fear? so help me as I would have
done so only to respect your free will, but you shall see. He bade the
Squires place her also on her palfrey, and the Dwarf, who sate up
aloft, cried out again for help.
Presently there came another Knight from the valley, and said to
Florestan, Don Cavalier, you have won one Damsel, and, not content with
her, you would carry off another; you must, therefore, lose both, and
your head too; for it is not fit that a Knight of such degree as you
should have in your keeping a Damsel of such rank. You praise yourself
bountifully, quoth Florestan; yet had I rather have two Knights of my
kin for my helpers than thee! I neither regard thee nor them, said the
Knight: you have won this Damsel from him who could not defend her; if
I conquer thee, she shall be mine; if the victory is yours, you shall
take the other whom I defend. Content, quoth Florestan. Defend yourself
now, if you can! said he of the valley; and they ran their encounter.
The Knight pierced through Florestan's shield, and broke his lance
against the strong mail. Florestan failed in the race; ashamed at that,
when the Knight had taken from his Squire another lance, he ran again,
and pierced the shield of his antagonist and the arm that held it, and
drove him back upon the crupper of his horse; the horse reared and
threw him, and, the ground being hard, he neither moved hand nor foot.
Damsel, said Florestan, you are mine; for methinks your friend can
neither help you nor himself. So it seems, quoth she.
Florestan looked at the other Damsel, who now remained alone by the
fountain, and saw that she was very sad. Damsel, said he, if it please
you, I will not leave you here alone. She did not answer him, but
said to his host, Go from hence, I counsel you! you know that these
Knights are not enough to protect you from him who will presently be
here, and, if he take you, you are sure to die. I will see what may
happen, he answered, my horse is swift, and my Tower at hand. Ah, said
she, take care of yourself; ye are but three, and you unarmed, and you
well know that is nothing against him. When Florestan heard this, he
became more desirous to carry away that Damsel, and see him whom she
praised so greatly. So he had her also placed on her palfrey; and the
Dwarf, who sate up aloft, said, Don Cavalier, in an ill hour are you
so bold: here comes one who shall take vengeance for all! and then he
shouted out, help! help, Sir! you linger too long! Presently there came
another Knight from the same valley; his armour was inlaid with gold,
and he rode upon a bay horse, big enough for a giant. Two Squires
came after him, armed with corselets and morions like serving men, and
each carried a huge battle-axe in his hand, in the use of which weapon
their master prided himself. He cried out to Florestan, stay, Knight,
and seek not to fly, for it will not save you: die you must, and it is
better die like a brave man, than like a coward! When Florestan heard
himself threatened, he waxed wonderous angry, and cried out, come on,
wretch and rascal, and clumsy[78:A] fool! So help me God, as I fear
thee no more than a great cowardly beast. Ah, quoth the Knight, how it
grieves me that I cannot wreak sufficient vengeance upon thee! would
that the best four of thy lineage were here, that I might cut off their
heads with thine! Protect yourself from one, cried Florestan, you may
dispense with the rest. Then, being both greatly incensed, they ran
at each other, and the shields and the mails of both were pierced
with the violence of the encounter: the large Knight lost both his
stirrups, and was fain to save himself by clinging round his horse's
neck. Florestan, as he past on, caught at one of the battle-axes, and
plucked it with such force from the Squire who held it, that both the
man and his horse were brought to the ground. The Knight of the Valley
had recovered his seat, and was ready with the other battle-axe, and
Florestan made at him with equal arms: both struck at once, each on the
helmet of his enemy; the axes went in three fingers' depth. Florestan
bowed his face upon his breast with the weight of the blow: the Knight
fell upon the neck of his horse, and the axe, being fast in the other's
helmet, slipt from his hand; before he could raise himself, Florestan
smote him as he lay between the helm and gorget, so that his head fell
at the horse's feet. This done, he turned to the Damsels. Certes, good
Knight, quoth the first of them, I once thought that not ten such as
you could have won us.
[78:A] Ven cativa cosa, y mala, y fuera de razon, sin talle.
The language of vituperation is not easily translatable.
The young Knight, their host, then came up to Florestan, and said, Sir,
I love this Damsel dearly, and she loves me. It is a year since this
Knight whom you have slain hath forcibly detained her, so that I could
not see her: now, that I may receive her from your hands, I beseech
you refuse me not. My host, quoth Florestan, of a truth I will right
gladly aid you, if it be as you say; but against her will I will yield
her to none. Ah, Sir, cried the Damsel, this is with my will! I beseech
you give me to him: he is my true love. Florestan answered, in God's
name, dispose of yourself as you like best! and she went joyfully to
her true love. Galaor then gave his horse to their friend, and took
the bay horse of the dead Knight, which was the handsomest he had ever
seen, and then they separated. The two Damsels whom Florestan had won,
were young and fair; he took the one to himself, and gave the other to
Galaor: I give you to this Knight, said he, and command you to do as
he pleases. What! quoth she, do you give me to this Knight, who has
not the heart of a woman? who stood by and saw you in such danger,
and did not help you? Damsel, answered Florestan, by my faith to God
and to you, I swear that I give you to the best Knight whom I know
in the world, except it be Amadis my Lord. The Damsel then looked at
Galaor, and seeing him so handsome, and so young, she marvelled at his
worth, and granted him her love. That night they had their lodging at
the house of a Lady, sister to their last night's host. On the morrow
they resumed their road, and said to their fair friends, we have a
long journey to perform thro' foreign lands, where you would endure
many hardships in following us: tell us where you would like best to
go, and there we will conduct you. They replied, that their Aunt had
a castle four days journey on that road whither they would go. As
they proceeded, Galaor asked his Damsel how she came into the power
of those Knights. She answered, that great Knight who was slain loved
the Damsel who went with your host, but she hated him. He took her by
force, for he was the best Knight in all these parts, and none could
gainsay him, yet would she never yield him her love; and he, for the
affection he bore her, withheld from offering her any wrong; and he
said to her, My fair friend, great reason is it that I should be loved
by you, being the best Knight in the world. Now I will do this for your
sake: there is a Knight who is called the best that ever was, Amadis of
Gaul by name, and he slew my cousin Dardan, in King Lisuarte's court;
I will find him, and cut off his head, and then shall I inherit all
his renown. Till I do this, I will give you two of the fairest Damsels
in all this land for your companions, and they shall have the two best
Knights of my lineage for their friends; and you shall every day be
taken to the fountain of the Three Elms, where many Errant Knights
pass, that you may see brave jousting, and learn to love me as I love
you. He then took us by force, and gave us to his kinsmen, and thus had
we past a year, till Don Florestan broke the bonds. That Knight, quoth
Galaor, had a haughty mind: what was his name? Alumas, she answered;
and, if it had not been for his exceeding pride, he was of great
prowess. Thus they proceeded till they reached the Lady's castle, who
thankfully entertained them, because they had delivered her nieces from
Alumas and his kinsmen, who had forcibly and dishonourably detained
them.
Galaor and Florestan proceeded till they reached the kingdom of
Sobradisa, and there heard the joyful tidings of what their brother
and Agrayes had done. They hastened to the city, and went immediately
to the palace, where Amadis and his cousin, now whole of their wounds,
were conversing with the new Queen. Amadis, from the Damsel who had
guided Galaor, knew who they were, and went to welcome Florestan with
tears of joy, embracing and kissing him who would have knelt before
him. But when Briolania saw four such Knights in her palace, and
recollected how powerful she now was, and how lately she had lived,
not without fear, in a single castle, she knelt down, and thanked the
Most High for the mercy he had vouchsafed her. Of a truth, Sirs, said
she, these changes are the work of him, before whom the mightiest are
nothing; but for this dominion, and this wealth, which we suffer so
much anxiety and trouble to gain, and having gained, to keep; would it
be better, as being neither certain nor durable in themselves, and as
things superfluous and destructive to the body, and moreover to the
soul,—would it be better to reject and abhor them? Certainly I say,
no: and affirm, that, when they are gained with a good conscience, and
justly administered, we may enjoy from them comfort and pleasure and
joy in this world, and everlasting glory in the next.
_Here endeth the First Book of the noble and virtuous
Knight, Amadis of Gaul._
_AMADIS of GAUL._
Book the Second.
_CHAPTER 1._
There was a King in Greece married to the sister of the Emperor of
Constantinople, by whom he had two fair sons, especially the elder,
named Apolidon, who in his days had no equal for strength of body and
courage of heart. He having a subtle genius, which is so seldom found
with valour, gave himself to the study of the sciences and of all arts,
so that he shone among those of his own time like the Moon among the
stars; especially he excelled in necromancy, whereby things that appear
impossible are done. The King his father was very rich in treasure,
but poor in life, by reason of his great age; and seeing himself at
the point of death, he commanded that the kingdom should be given to
Apolidon, as his eldest son, and his books and treasures to the other.
The younger was not contented with this, and told his father so with
tears, and complained that he was disherited; but the old man, not
knowing what to do, wrung his hands for pure sorrow. Then that famous
Apolidon, seeing his father's grief and the littleness of his brother,
bade him take comfort, for he would accept the books and treasure, and
relinquish the kingdom to his brother. Whereat the father gave him his
blessing with many tears. So Apolidon took his inheritance, and fitted
out certain ships, manning them with chosen Knights, and set forth into
the sea, trusting himself to Fortune, who seeing his great obedience to
his father, and how he had thrown himself upon her mercy, resolved to
requite him with glory and greatness. A fair wind carried him to the
empire of Rome, where Siudan was then Emperor, at whose court he abode
some time, doing great feats in arms, till there grew a true affection
between him and the Emperor's sister, Grimanesa, who then flourished
among all other women for beauty. So it was that as he was loving, even
so was he loved, and as their loves might no other ways be indulged,
they left Rome together, and set sail in Apolidon's fleet, and sailed
till they came to the Firm Island. There Apolidon landed, not knowing
what country it was, and pitched a tent upon the shore, and placed a
couch there for his Lady, who was weary of the sea. Presently there
came down a fierce Giant, who was Lord of the island, with whom,
according to the custom of the place, Apolidon was to do battle for the
preservation of his Lady and himself, and his company. It ended in such
sort that the Giant lay dead on the field, and Apolidon remained master
of the island. When he had seen its strength, he neither feared the
Emperor of Rome, whom he had offended, nor all the world besides; and
there he and Grimanesa, being greatly beloved by the islanders, whom he
had delivered from their oppressor, dwelt in all happiness for sixteen
years. During that time many rich edifices were made, as well with
his great treasures, as with his surpassing wisdom, such as it would
have been difficult for any Emperor or King, how rich soever, to have
completed. At the end of that time the Emperor of Greece died without
an heir, and the Greeks, knowing the great worth of Apolidon, and that
by his mother's side he was of the blood and lineage of the Emperors,
elected him with one common consent to rule over them. He, albeit
he was enjoying all possible delights in his own island, yet, with
Grimanesa's consent, accepted the Empire; but she, before they left
the island where she had enjoyed such rare happiness, requested her
husband that he would work such a means by his great knowledge, that
that island might never be possessed, except by a Knight as excellent
in arms and loyal in love as himself, and by a Dame resembling her in
beauty and truth.
Then Apolidon made an arch at the entrance of a garden, wherein there
were all kind of trees, and also four rich chambers, but it was so
surrounded that none could enter, except by passing under the arch,
over which he placed the Image of a man made of copper, holding a
trumpet in his mouth as if he would wind it. And in one of the chambers
within he placed two figures, in the likeness of himself and his Lady,
the countenances and the stature like unto them, so true that they
seemed alive, and near them he placed a bright stone of jasper; and,
about the distance of half a cross-bow shot, he made a [87:A]perron
of iron. Henceforward, said he, no man or woman who hath been false
to their first love shall pass here, for yonder Image shall blow from
that trumpet so dreadful a blast with smoke and flames of fire, that
they shall be stunned and cast out as dead. But if Knight, or Dame, or
Damsel come, worthy by virtue of true loyalty to finish this adventure,
they shall enter without let, and the Image shall make a sound so sweet
that it shall be delightful to hear, and they shall see our images,
and behold their own name written in the jasper. Grimanesa afterwards
ordered some of her Knights and Ladies to make trial, and then the
Image blew the dreadful blast with smoke and flames of fire; whereat
Grimanesa laughed, knowing them to be in more dread than danger. But
yet, my Lord, quoth she, what shall be done with that rich chamber
wherein we have enjoyed such great contentment? He answered, you shall
see. Then he made two other perrons, one of stone, the other of copper:
the stone one was placed five paces from the chamber, the copper one
five paces farther off. Know now, said he, that henceforth in no
manner, nor at any time, shall man or woman enter this chamber, till
a Knight come who surpasses me in prowess, or a woman exceeding you
in beauty; they shall enter. He then placed these words in the copper
perron: Knights shall advance here, each according to his valour; and
in the stone perron, he wrote: here none shall pass except the Knight
who exceeds Apolidon in prowess. And over the door of the chamber he
wrote: He who surpasses me in prowess shall enter here, and be Lord of
the island. And he laid such a spell, that none could approach within
twelve paces of the chamber round about, nor was there any entrance but
by the perrons.
[87:A] _Padron_ is the Spanish word: the English version
renders it pillar, but the word means more; there must be
a roof and a flooring. Our market-crosses would be called
_padrones_. _Perron_ is used in the English Amadis of Greece.
Then he appointed a Governor to rule the island, and collect the
revenues, which were to be reserved for the Knight who should enter
the chamber; and he commanded that all who failed in attempting to
pass the Arch of Lovers, should, without ceremony, be cast out of
the island; but such as passed through were to be entertained and
served with all honour. And farther, he appointed that all Knights who
attempted the adventure of the Forbidden Chamber, and did not pass
the copper perron, should leave their arms there; but from those who
advanced any way beyond it, only their swords should be taken. They
who reached to the marble perron should leave only their shields, and
if they penetrated beyond that, but failed to enter the chamber, they
should lose only their spurs. From the Dames and Damsels who failed,
nothing was to be taken, only their names should be placed upon the
castle-gate, and an account how far they had advanced. Apolidon then
said, when this island shall have another Lord, the enchantment shall
be dissolved, and all Knights may freely pass the perrons and enter the
chamber; but it shall not be free for women, till the fairest shall
have come, and lodged in the rich chamber with the Lord of the island.
These enchantments being thus made, Apolidon and his wife entered their
ships, and passed over into Greece, where they reigned during their
lives, and left children to succeed them.
_CHAPTER 2._
While Amadis remained with his comrades at the court of Sobradisa,
his thoughts were perpetually fixed upon his Lady Oriana; and, so
thoughtful was he, and so often, both sleeping and waking, was he in
tears, that all saw how he was troubled, yet knew they not the cause,
for he kept his love silent, as a man who had all virtues in his
heart. At length, not being able to support a longer absence, he asked
permission of the fair young Queen to depart, which she not without
reluctance having granted, loving him better than herself, he and his
brethren and their cousin Agrayes took the road towards King Lisuarte.
Some days had they travelled when they came to a little church,
and entering there to say their prayers, they saw a fair Damsel,
accompanied by two others, and by four Squires, who guarded her, coming
from the door. She asked them whither they went. Amadis answered,
Damsel, we go to the court of King Lisuarte, where, if it please you
to go, we will accompany you. Thank you, quoth the Damsel, but I am
faring elsewhere. I waited, because I saw you were armed like Errant
Knights, to know if any of you would go and see the wonders of the Firm
Island, for I am the Governor's daughter, and am returning there. Holy
Mary! cried Amadis, I have often heard of the wonders of that island,
and should account myself happy if I might prove them, yet till now
have I never prepared to go! Good Sir, quoth she, do not repent of your
delay; many have gone there with the same wish, and returned not so
joyfully as they went. So I have heard, said Amadis: tell me, would it
be far out of our road if we went there?—Two days journey.—Is the Firm
Island then in this part of the sea, where is the enchanted Arch of
True Lovers, under which neither man nor woman can pass that hath been
false to their first love? The Damsel answered, it is a certain truth,
and many other wonders are there. Then Agrayes said to his companions,
I know not what you will do, but I will go with this Damsel, and see
these wonderful things. If you are so true a lover, said she, as to
pass the enchanted Arch, you will see the likenesses of Apolidon and
Grimanesa, and behold your own name written upon a stone, where you
will find only two names written besides, though the spell hath been
made an hundred years. In God's name let us go, quoth Agrayes, and I
will try whether I can be third. With that, Amadis, who in his heart
had no less desire and faith to prove the adventure, said to his
brethren, we are not enamoured, but we should keep our cousin company
who is, and whose heart is so bold. Thereto they all consented, and set
forth with the Damsel. What is this island? said Florestan to Amadis,
tell me, Sir, for you seem to know. A young Knight whom I greatly
esteem, replied Amadis, told me all I know; King Arban of North Wales:
he was there four days, but could accomplish none of the adventures,
and so departed with shame. The Damsel then related the history of the
enchantments, which greatly incited Galaor and Florestan to the proof.
So they rode on till sunset, and then entering a valley, they saw many
tents pitched in a meadow, and people sporting about them, and one
Knight, richly apparelled, who seemed to be the chief. Sirs, quoth the
Damsel, that is my father: I will go advertise him of your coming,
that he may do you honour. When he heard of their desire to try the
enchantment, he went on foot with all his company to welcome them,
and they were honourably feasted and lodged that night. At morning
they accompanied the Governor to his castle, which commanded the whole
island, for at the entrance there was a neck of land, only a bow-shot
over, connected with the main land, all the rest was surrounded by the
sea; seven leagues in length it was, and five broad, and because it was
all surrounded by the sea, except where that neck of land connected
it with the continent, it was called the Firm Island. Having entered,
they saw a great palace, the gates whereof were open, and many shields
hung upon the wall; about an hundred were in one row, and above them
were ten, and above the ten were two, but one of them was in a higher
niche than the other. Then Amadis asked why they were thus ranked.
The Governor answered, according to the prowess of those who would
have entered the Forbidden Chamber; the shields of those who could
not enter the perron of copper, are near the ground; the ten above
them are of those who reached it; the lowest of the two passed that
perron, and the one above all reached to the marble perron, but could
pass no farther. Then Amadis approached the shields to see if he knew
them, for each had its owner's name inscribed; the one which was the
highest of the ten bore a sable lion, with argent teeth and nails, and
a bloody mouth, in a field sable: this he knew to be the shield of
Arcalaus. Then he beheld the two uppermost; the lower bore, in a field
azure, a Knight cutting off the head of a Giant; this was the shield of
King Abies of Ireland, who had been there two years before his combat
with Amadis: the highest had three golden flowers in a field azure:
this he knew not, but he read the inscription, This is the shield of
Don Quadragante, brother to King Abies of Ireland. He had proved the
adventure twelve days ago, and had reached the marble perron, which was
more than any Knight before him had done, and he was now gone to Great
Britain to combat Amadis, in revenge for his brother's death. When
Amadis saw all these shields, he doubted the adventure much, seeing
that such Knights had failed.
They went out from the palace towards the Arch of True Lovers. When
they came near, Agrayes alighted and commended himself to God, and
cried, Love, if I have been true to thee, remember me! and he past the
spell; and, when he came under the arch, the Image blew forth sweet
sounds, and he came to the palace, and saw the likeness of Apolidon
and Grimanesa, and saw also the jasper-stone, wherein two names were
written, and now his own the third. The first said, Madanil, son of the
Duke of Burgundy, atchieved this adventure: and the second was, this is
the name of Don Bruneo of Bonamar, son to Vallados, Marquis of Troque:
and his own said, this is Agrayes, son to King Languines of Scotland.
This Madanil loved Guinda, Lady of Flanders. Don Bruneo had proved the
enchantment but eight days ago, and she whom he loved was Melicia,
daughter to King Perion, the sister of Amadis.
When Agrayes had thus entered, Amadis said to his brethren, will ye
prove the adventure? No, said they, we are not so enthralled that we
can deserve to accomplish it. Since you are two, then, quoth he, keep
one another company, as I, if I can, will do with my cousin Agrayes.
Then gave he his horse and arms to Gandalin, and went on without fear,
as one who felt that never in deed or in thought had he been faithless
to his Lady. When he came under the arch, the Image began a sound far
different and more melodious than he had ever before done, and showered
down flowers of great fragrance from the mouth of the trumpet, the like
of which had never been done before to any Knight who entered. He past
on to the Images, and here Agrayes, who apprehended something of his
passion, met him and embraced him, and said, Sir, my Cousin, there is
no reason that we should henceforth conceal from each other our loves.
But Amadis made no reply, but taking his hand, they went to survey the
beauties of the garden.
Don Galaor and Florestan, who waited for them without, seeing that they
tarried, besought Ysanjo, the Governor, to shew them the Forbidden
Chamber, and he led them towards the perrons. Sir brother, said
Florestan, what will you do? Nothing, replied Galaor: I have no mind to
meddle with enchantments. Then amuse yourself here, quoth Florestan, I
will try my fortune. He then commended himself to God, threw his shield
before him, and proceeded sword in hand. When he entered the spell, he
felt himself attacked on all sides with lances and swords, such blows
and so many that it might be thought never man could endure them; yet,
for he was strong and of good heart, he ceased not to make his way,
striking manfully on all sides, and it felt in his hand as though he
were striking armed men, and the sword did not cut. Thus struggling,
he passed the copper perron, and advanced as far as the marble one,
but there his strength failed him, and he fell like one dead, and was
cast out beyond the line of the spell. When Galaor saw this he was
displeased, and said, however little I like these things, I must take
my share in the danger! and bidding the Squires and the Dwarf to stay
by Florestan, and throw cold water in his face, he took his arms and
commended himself to God, and advanced towards the Forbidden Chamber.
Immediately the unseen blows fell upon him, but he went on, and forced
his way up to the marble perron, and there he stood; but, when he
advanced another step beyond, the blows came on him so heavy a load,
that he fell senseless, and was cast out like Florestan.
Amadis and Agrayes were reading the new inscription in the jasper, This
is Amadis of Gaul, the true lover, son to King Perion,—when Ardian
the Dwarf came up to the line, and cried out, Help! help, Sir Amadis,
your brothers are slain! They hastened out to him, and asked how it
was.—Sir, they attempted the Forbidden Chamber, and did not atchieve
it, and there they lie for dead! Immediately they rode towards them,
and found them so handled as you have heard, albeit some little
recovering. Then Agrayes, who was stout of heart, alighted and went on
as fast as he could to the Forbidden Chamber, striking aright and aleft
with his sword, but his strength did not suffice to bear the blows, he
fell senseless between the perrons, and was cast out as his cousins
had been. Then Amadis began to curse their journey thither, and said
to Galaor, who was now revived, Brother, I must not excuse my body
from the danger which yours have undergone. Galaor would have withheld
him, but he took his arms, and went on, praying God to help him. When
he came to the line of the spell, there he paused for a moment, and
said, O Oriana, my Lady, from you proceeds all my strength and courage!
remember me now at this time, when your dear remembrance is so needful
to me! Then he went on. The blows fell thick upon him and hard till he
reached the marble perron, but then they came so fast as if all the
Knights in the world were besetting him, and such an uproar of voices
arose as if the whole world were perishing, and he heard it said, if
this Knight should fail, there is not one in the world who can enter.
But he ceased not to proceed, winning his way hardly, sometimes beaten
down upon his hands, sometimes falling upon his knees; his sword fell
from his hand, and, though it hung by a thong from the wrist, he
could not recover it, yet holding on still he reached the door of the
chamber, and a hand came forth and took him by the hand to draw him in,
and he heard a voice which said, Welcome is the Knight who shall be
Lord here, because he passeth in prowess him who made the enchantment,
and who had no peer in his time. The hand that led him was large, and
hard, like the hand of an old man, and the arm was sleeved with green
sattin. As soon as he was within the chamber it let go his hold, and
was seen no more, and Amadis remained fresh, and with all his strength
recovered; he took the shield from his neck and the helmet from his
head, and sheathed his sword, and gave thanks to his Lady Oriana for
this honour, which for her sake he had won. At this time they of the
castle who had heard the voices resign the lordship, and seen Amadis
enter, began to cry out, God be praised, we see accomplished what we
have so long desired. When his brethren saw that he had atchieved that
wherein they had failed, they were exceedingly joyful, because of the
great love they bore him, and desired that they might be carried to the
chamber; and there the Governor with all his train went to Amadis, and
kissed his hand as their Lord. Then saw they the wonders which were
in the chamber, the works of art and the treasures, such that they
were amazed to see them. Yet all this was nothing to the chamber of
Apolidon and Grimanesa, for that was such, that not only could no one
make the like, but no one could even imagine how it could be made; it
was so devised, that they who were within could clearly see what was
doing without, but from without nothing could be seen within. There
they remained some time with great pleasure; the Knights, because one
of their lineage was found to exceed in worth all living men, and all
who for a hundred years had lived: the islanders, because they trusted
to be well ruled and made happy under such a Lord, and even to master
other lands. Sir, quoth Ysanjo, it is time to take food and rest for
to-day: to-morrow, the good men of the land will come and do homage to
you. So that day they feasted in the palace, and the following day all
the people assembled and did homage to Amadis as their Lord, with great
solemnities and feasting and rejoicing.[101:A]
[101:A] The Spanish Writer moralizes here a little upon the
mutability of fortune.
You have heard in the first part of this great history, how Oriana
was moved to great anger and rage by what the Dwarf had said to her
concerning the broken sword, so that neither the wise counsels of
Mabilia nor of the Damsel of Denmark aught availed her. From that time
she gave way to her wrath, so that wholly changing her accustomed
manner of life, which was to be altogether in their company, she now
forsook them, and for the most part chose to be alone, devising how she
might revenge herself for what she suffered, upon him who had caused
her sufferings. So recollecting that she could by writing make him
sensible of her displeasure, even at a distance, being alone in her
chamber, she took ink and parchment from her coffer, and wrote thus:
My frantic grief, accompanied by so great a reason, causes my weak hand
to declare what my sad heart cannot conceal against you, the false and
disloyal Knight, Amadis of Gaul; for the disloyalty and faithlessness
are known which you have committed against me, the most ill-fortuned
and unhappy of all in the world, since you have changed your affection
for me, who loved you above all things, and have placed your love upon
one who by her years cannot have discretion to know and love you.
Since then I have no other vengeance in my power, I withdraw all that
exceeding and misplaced love which I bore towards you; for great error
would it be to love him who has forsaken me, when in requital for my
sighs and passion I am deceived and deserted. Therefore, as the wrong
is manifest, never appear before me! for be sure the great love I felt
is turned into raging anger. Go, and deceive some other poor woman as
you deceived me with your treacherous words, for which no excuse will
be received, while I lament with tears my own wretchedness, and so put
an end to my life and unhappiness.
Having thus written, she sealed the letter with the seal of Amadis, and
wrote on the superscription, I am the Damsel wounded through the heart
with a sword, and you are he who wounded me. She then secretly called a
Squire, who was named Durin, and was brother to the Damsel of Denmark,
and bade him not rest till he had reached the kingdom of Sobradisa,
where he would find Amadis; and she bade him mark the countenance of
Amadis while he was reading the letter, and stay with him that day, but
receive no answer from him, if he wished to give one.
_CHAPTER 3._
Durin, in obedience to the command of Oriana, presently departed, and
hasted so well that on the tenth day he arrived at Sobradisa, where
he found the new Queen Briolania, whom he thought the fairest woman,
except Oriana, that ever he had seen; and learning from her that Amadis
had departed two days before, he followed him, and reached the Firm
Island just as Amadis was passing under the Arch of True Lovers, and so
he beheld how the Image did more for him than ever it had done for any
other. And though he saw Amadis after he came forth to his brethren,
yet he did not speak with him, nor give him the letter, till after he
had entered the Forbidden Chamber, and been received by all as Lord of
the island. This he did by Gandalin's advice, who, knowing the letter
to be from Oriana, feared that it might cause his Master either to
forslow or fail in the atchieving of so great an enterprise, for he
would not only have left off the conquest of the Firm Island, but also
of the whole world, to fulfil what she had commanded; but, when every
thing was finished, Durin went before him, and Amadis took him apart
from his brethren and from all others into a garden, and asked him if
he came from the court of King Lisuarte, and what tidings. Sir, said
he, the court is as when you left it: I come from thence by the command
of my Lady Oriana; by this letter you will know the cause of my coming.
Amadis took the letter, and he concealed the joy that was in his heart,
that Durin might know nothing of his secret; but his grief he could not
conceal when he had read those strong and bitter words, for neither his
courage nor reason could support him then, for he seemed struck with
death. When Durin saw him so disordered, he cursed himself and his ill
fortune, and death, that had not overtaken him on the way. Amadis, for
he could not stand, sate down upon the grass, and took the letter which
had fallen from his hands, and, when he saw the superscription, again
his grief became so violent that Durin would have called his brethren,
but feared to do so, observing what secrecy Amadis had chosen.
Presently Amadis exclaimed, O Lord, wherefore does it please thee that
I should perish, not having deserved it! and then again, Ah, truth, an
ill guerdon dost thou give him who never failed thee! Then he took the
letter again, saying, you are the cause of my unhappy end; come here,
that it may be sooner! and he placed it in his bosom. He asked Durin
if he had aught else to say; and hearing that he had not, replied,
well then thou shalt take my answer. Sir, quoth he, I am forbidden
to receive any.—Did neither Mabilia nor thy sister bid thee say any
thing?—They knew not my coming: my Lady commanded me to conceal it from
them.—Holy Mary help me! I see now my wretchedness is without remedy.
He then went to a stream that proceeded from a fountain, and washed
his face and eyes, and bade Durin call Gandalin, and bid him bring
Ysanjo the Governor; and he said to the Governor, promise me, as you
are a loyal Knight, to keep secret all that you shall see till after
my brothers have heard mass to-morrow; and the same promise he exacted
from the two Squires. Then he commanded Ysanjo to open privately the
gate of the castle, and Gandalin to take his horse and arms out,
privately also. This done they left him, and he remained alone,
thinking upon a dream which he had dreamt the last night, wherein it
seemed, that being armed and on horseback he was on a hill covered with
trees, and many persons round about him making great joy; when a man
from amongst them presented him a box, saying, Sir, taste what I bring
you; which he did, and it was exceeding bitter; and therewith feeling
himself cast down and disconsolate, he loosed the reins of his horse,
and let him go whither he would; and he thought that the mirth of all
around him was changed into such sorrow as was pitiful to behold; but
his horse carried him far away from them, and took him through the
trees to a rocky place surrounded with water; and then it seemed in his
dream that he left his horse and arms, as if by that he would have had
rest, and there came to him an old man in a religious habit, and took
him by the hand as if he had compassion, and spoke to him in a language
which he did not understand, whereupon he awoke. Upon this dream Amadis
now mused, thinking that he now found it true.
Then hiding his face from his brethren, that they might not see his
trouble, he went to the castle-gate, which the sons of Ysanjo had
opened. Come you with me, said Amadis to the Governor, and let your
sons remain here, and keep this matter secret. So they went to the
foot of the rock, where there was a little chapel, and Gandalin and
Durin went with them. There he armed himself, and asked the Governor
to what saint that chapel was dedicated.—To our Lady the Virgin, who
hath wrought many miracles here. Hearing this, Amadis went in and
knelt down, and said, weeping, Our Lady Virgin Mary, the consoler and
helper of those that are afflicted, I beseech you to intercede with
your glorious Son, that he may have mercy on me; and, if it be your
will not to help me in my body, have mercy on my soul in these my
last days, for other thing than death I do not hope. He then called
Ysanjo, and said, promise as a loyal Knight to do what I shall direct!
and turning to Gandalin, he took him in his arms and wept abundantly,
and held him somewhile, for he could not speak. At length he said, my
good friend Gandalin, you and I were nursed by the same milk, and our
lives have been past together, and never have I endured hardship and
danger in which you had not your part also. Your father took me from
the sea when I was so little, being only that night's child, and they
brought me up as a good father and mother bring up their beloved son;
and you, my true friend, have always thought how to serve me, and I
have hoped in God that he would one day enable me to requite thee;
but now this misery, which is worse than death, is come upon me, and
we must part, and I have nothing to leave thee, except this island: I
therefore command Ysanjo and all others, by the homage which they have
done to me, that so soon as they shall know my death they take thee for
their Lord. The Lordship shall be thine, but I enjoin that thy father
and mother enjoy it while they live, and afterwards it shall remain
to thee. This I do for what they did for my childhood, for my ill
fortune will not suffer me to do what they deserve, and what I desire.
He then told Ysanjo to take from the rents of the island, which had
accumulated, enough to build a monastery by that chapel, in honour of
the Virgin Mary, and to endow it for thirty friars. But Gandalin cried
out, Sir, you never yet had trouble wherein I was separated from you,
nor shall it be now; and if you die, I do not wish to live: and I want
no honours or lordships; give it to your brethren, I will not take it,
and I do not want it. Hold thy peace, for God's sake, quoth Amadis, and
say no such folly to displease me. My brethren are of such worth that
they can gain lands for themselves, and to bestow on others. Then he
said to Ysanjo, it grieves me, my friend Ysanjo, to leave you before
I could honour you according to your deserts; but I leave you with
those who will do it. Ysanjo answered, let me go with you, Sir, and
suffer what you suffer. Friend, answered Amadis, it must be as I say;
God only can comfort me! I will be guided by his mercy, and have no
other company. He then said to Gandalin, if thou desirest knighthood,
take my arms; for, since thou hast kept them so well, it is right they
should be thine. I shall little need them: if not, my brother Galaor
shall knight thee. Tell him this Ysanjo, and serve and love him as thou
hast me, for I love him above all my lineage, because he is the best,
and hath ever been humble towards me. Tell him, too, that I commit
Ardian the Dwarf to his care. They for great sorrow could make him no
answer. Then Amadis embraced them, and commended them to God, saying
that he never thought to see them more, and he forbade them to follow
him; and with that spurred his horse and rode away, forgetting to take
either shield, or helmet, or spear. He struck into the mountain, going
whither his horse would. Thus he kept till midnight, being utterly
lost in thought; the horse came then to a little stream of water,
and proceeded upward to find a place so deep that he could drink
thereat. The branches struck Amadis in the face, and so recalled him
to himself, and he looked round, and seeing nothing but thickets,
rejoiced, thinking that he was hidden in that solitude. So he alighted,
and fastened his horse to a tree, and sate upon the green herb by, and
wept till his head became giddy, and he fell asleep.
_CHAPTER 4._
Gandalin and his companions remained by the chapel, looking after
Amadis as he rode so fast away: then Gandalin, who was passionately
weeping, cried out, I will follow and carry his arms to him, although
he hath forbidden me! And I, quoth Durin, will bear you company for
this night. So they left Ysanjo, and getting to horse, rode after him,
coasting here and there about the wood, till fortune brought them so
near the place where he was lying, that his horse scented theirs, and
began to neigh. Then they knew that he was near, and Gandalin alighted,
and went quietly through the shrubs till he saw his Master sleeping by
the fountain. The Squire then took his horse and led it where he had
left Durin, and taking off the bridles from all the horses that they
might browze the green boughs, they remained still. It was not long
before Amadis awoke, for his sleep was restless: he rose, and looked
round: the Moon was almost down, but it was yet some time till day;
then he lay down again, and broke out into pitiful lamentations for his
evil fortune.
The two Squires heard all he said and were greatly moved thereat, yet
durst they not appear before him. Presently there came up a Knight
singing along the way, and, when he was near the place where Amadis
lay, he exclaimed, Love, love, I thank thee for exalting me above all
other Knights! giving me good first, and better afterwards. You made
me affect the fair Queen Sardamira, thinking to secure her heart by
the honour which I should bear away from this land; and now, for my
greater happiness, you make me love the daughter of the greatest King
in the world, the fair Oriana, who hath no peer on earth: you make
me love her, and you give me strength to serve her. Saying this, he
drew from the wayside to a great tree, whereunder he meant to wait for
day-break. Then said Gandalin to his comrade, stay here while I go see
what Amadis will do. He went towards the fountain, but Amadis had risen
and was seeking his horse; and seeing Gandalin dimly in the night, he
cried out, who goes there? tell me, I beseech thee?—Gandalin, Sir!
who is going to bring you your horse.—Who bade thee follow me against
my command? you have displeased me: give me my horse and go thy way,
and tarry not here, unless thou wouldst have me slay thee and myself.
Sir, cried Gandalin, for God's sake no more of this! did you hear the
foolish words of a Knight hard by? And this he said to make him angry,
that he might forget his displeasure for a while. Amadis answered, I
heard him, and therefore want my horse to depart.—How! is this all you
will do?—What wouldst thou more?—That you should fight with him, and
make him know his folly.—Fool that thou art! I have neither heart,
nor strength, nor spirit! having lost all in losing her from whom all
came: she gave me courage, and hath taken it away: the most caitiff
Knight in Great Britain might slay me now. Sir, said Gandalin, for
God's sake speak lower, that Durin may not hear this, for he has heard
all that the Knight said.—What! is Durin here?—We came together: I
think he tarries to see what you will do, that he may report it to her
who sent him. I am vexed at what you tell me, quoth Amadis; but his
spirit arose, knowing that Durin was there, and he said, give me my
horse then, and guide me to the Knight. He mounted and took his arms,
and Gandalin led him where the Knight sate under a tree, holding his
horse by the bridle. You Sir Knight, quoth Amadis, who are enjoying
yourself, rise, and let us see if you can maintain the love of which
you boast. The Knight arose, and cried, who are you who question me?
you shall see how I maintain it, if you dare do battle with me, for I
will strike terror into thee, and all who are scorned by Love. I am
one of those, quoth Amadis: Love hath foully requited me: I tell thee
this, Sir Lover, where I have found one truth in him, I have found
seven lies. Come, and maintain his justice: let us see if he has gained
more in you than he has lost in me! and, as he spake these words, his
anger kindled, feeling how unjustly his Lady had abandoned him. The
Knight mounted and took his arms, and said, You Knight, whom Love has
justly forsaken, because you were not worthy to serve him, get you
gone! I am offended even at the sight of you. And he would have rode
away, but Amadis cried out, What, Knight! do you defend your love only
with words, and ride off like a coward? How! quoth he: I was leaving
thee for contempt, and thou callest it fear! thou art very desirous
of thy own hurt: defend thyself now if thou canst! They ran against
each other, and both shields were pierced, but the Knight was thrown
down: he kept the reins, and mounted again lightly. Quoth Amadis, If
you do not defend Love better with the sword than with the lance, you
will be a bad champion. The Knight made no reply, but struck at him in
great fury: the sword fell on the rim of the shield, and entered in
aslant, and he could not pluck it out. Amadis stood in his stirrups,
and gave him a blow on his head, and cut away the trappings of his
helmet and the skin of his head, and the sword held on and came upon
the neck of the horse, so that he fell dead, and the rider senseless.
Amadis waited a minute, thinking that he had slain him; then seeing
him recover, he said, Knight, what Love has gained in you, and you in
him, you may both enjoy: I leave you. So departing from him, he called
Gandalin, and seeing Durin there, he said to him, friend Durin, my
sorrow hath no equal, and my grief and recollections are intolerable:
it is better that I should die: pray God it may be soon! Go, with
good fortune! Salute for me, Mabilia, my good cousin, and the Damsel
of Denmark, thy sister; and tell them, if they grieve for me, that I
perish more undeservedly than ever Knight perished; and tell them that
I sorely regret that those who have loved me so much, and done so much
for me, have never had their guerdon! Durin stood weeping before him,
and could make no reply. Amadis embraced him, and he commended him to
God, and kissed the skirts of his armour and departed. By this it was
day-break: Amadis said to Gandalin, if you chuse to go with me, attempt
not to disturb me in whatever I say or do: if you will not obey this,
go back. He promised obedience. Then Amadis gave him his arms, and bade
him pluck the sword from the shield and give it the Knight, and so they
rode on.
_CHAPTER 5._
This wounded Knight was Patin, brother to Don Sidon, who was then
Emperor of Rome; he was the best Knight in all those lands; and
therefore greatly feared throughout the empire. The Emperor was very
old, and had no son, therefore all thought this brother should succeed
him. He loved Sardamira, Queen of Sardinia, who was a fair and comely
Damsel, and being niece to the Empress had been brought up in the
court; and he had so far profited by his service, that she had promised
him, if ever she married, to marry him. El[119:A] Patin upon this grew
more presumptuous, though his natural arrogance was enough; and he
said to her, I have heard that King Lisuarte hath a daughter who is
renowned over all the world for her beauty. I will go to his court,
and say she is not so fair as you, and this I will maintain against
the two best Knights who dare undertake her cause. They say there are
Knights there of great worth in arms, but if I do not conquer them in
one day, I will that King Lisuarte do cause my head to be cut off! The
Queen answered him, do not do this; for, if that Princess be fair, it
impaireth not the beauty which God hath bestowed upon me, if beauty
there be; and, methinks, you might with more reason and less pride
prove your prowess in some other cause, for this enterprize is not
becoming a man of so high a rank, and moreover it is unreasonable and
arrogant, and you cannot expect it to come to a good end. Come what
will, quoth he, I will do it, to prove that you, who are the fairest
Lady in the world, have the best Knight for your servant. So he took
his leave, and with rich arms and ten Squires passed over into Great
Britain, and went directly to where King Lisuarte was, who seeing him
so accompanied thought him to be some great personage, and courteously
welcomed him. When he was disarmed, all that saw his great stature
judged him to be of great courage. Lisuarte then asked him who he was.
He answered, King, I will tell you, for I do not come to your house
to conceal myself, but to make myself known. Know, then, that I am El
Patin, brother to the Emperor of Rome, and so soon as I see the Queen,
and your daughter Oriana, you shall know the cause of my coming. When
the King heard that he was a man of so high rank, he embraced him
and said, Good friend, much are we pleased with your coming, and you
shall see the Queen and her daughter and all others of my house, when
it pleaseth you. Then he placed him at his own table, and they were
feasted in a manner befitting the table of such a personage. El Patin
looked round him, and when he saw so many Knights he was astonished,
and began to hold the household of his brother, the Emperor, as
nothing. Don Grumedan took him to his lodging, by the King's command,
and did him much honour. The next day after mass, the King took with
him El Patin and Don Grumedan, and went to the Queen, who received
him honourably, and made him sit before her and near her daughter.
Now Oriana's beauty was much impaired by reason of her great trouble
of mind, yet when El Patin saw her he marvelled greatly, and thought
that they who praised her had not mentioned half her beauty, and his
heart was entirely changed from the purpose with which he had come,
and wholly bent to obtain her. Wherefore calling to mind his own high
birth and great qualities, and moreover that he should one day possess
the empire, he thought that if he demanded her in marriage she would
not be refused him. So taking the King and Queen apart, he said, I come
hither to request the marriage of your daughter, for your worth and for
her beauty: if I sought others of her rank, I could obtain them, seeing
what I am, and what I expect to be. The King answered, we thank you
much for what you say, but the Queen and I have promised our daughter
not to give her in marriage against her consent: we must talk with her,
before we can answer you. This the King said that he might not offend
him, but in his mind he was resolved not to give her to him, or to any
other who would carry her out of the land which she was to inherit.
El Patin was satisfied with this, and waited five days, expecting a
favourable answer; but the King and Queen, thinking it folly, had said
nothing to Oriana. Then El Patin asked the King how the business went
on. He answered, I do what I can, but it is necessary that you should
speak to my daughter, and request her to obey my commands. El Patin
went to the Princess, and said, Lady Oriana, I wish to ask a thing of
you which will be much to your honour and profit. What thing is that?
quoth she.—That you will do the will of your father. She knowing not
for what reason he spake, replied, that shall I right willingly, being
sure it will be as you say. Then Patin was full joyful, thinking he
had won her, and said, I will go through this land seeking adventures;
before long you will hear such things of me, as will make you with more
reason grant what I require. And this also he said to the King, telling
him that he would see the wonders of his land. The King replied, you
have it in you to do this; yet would I dissuade you, for in this land
you will find many great and perilous adventures, and many strong and
hardy Knights, practised in arms. I like this, quoth El Patin: if they
are strong and hardy, I am neither weak nor faint, as my deeds shall
show. So he departed, right joyful at Oriana's answer, and for this joy
he was singing as you have heard, when his ill fortune led him where
Amadis was making moan; and this is the reason why that Knight came
from so far a land.
[119:A] The article is uniformly prefixed to his name, except
where he is first mentioned. In our language it is only
used where the name is a family or clan appellation: The
Plantagenet, the Douglas, the Graham.
Durin departed from Amadis when it was clear day-light, and he passed
by El Patin, who had taken off the piece of his helmet that was left,
and had his face and neck all bloody. He seeing Durin, said to him,
Good child, so may God make you a good man as you tell me if there
be any place near where I may have remedy for my wound. Yes, quoth
he, but all there are so afflicted that they will hardly attend to
you.—For what cause?—For the loss of a good Knight, who hath won that
lordship, and seen the likenesses and secrets of Apolidon, which none
other could ever do, and he is departed in such sorrow that nothing
but his death is looked for.—Methinks you speak of the Firm Island?—I
do.—What! hath it found a a master? certes I am heartily sorry, for I
was going there myself to prove the adventure and win the Island. Durin
laughed, and answered, Truly, Sir Knight, if there be no more prowess
in you than you have just now manifested, you would have gained little
honour! El Patin raised himself as well as he could, and tried to catch
his bridle, but Durin turned aside. Tell me, said he, what Knight is
he that hath won the Firm Island?—Tell me first who you are?—I am El
Patin, brother to the Emperor of Rome.—God-a-mercy! quoth Durin, your
birth is better than your prowess or your courtesy. Know that the
Knight you ask about is the same who hath just now left you: by what
you have seen you may judge that he is worthy of what he hath won. So
he went his way, and took the straight road to London, greatly desirous
to tell Oriana all that he had seen of Amadis.
_CHAPTER 6._
Ysanjo, according to his promise, revealed nothing concerning Amadis
till after mass the next day. Then, when his brethren and his cousin
enquired for him, he said, arm yourselves, and I will tell you his
commands. And, when they were armed, Ysanjo began to weep passionately,
and exclaimed, O Sirs, what a grief and a misery is come upon us, that
we should lose our Lord so soon! Then he told them all that Amadis had
said, and how he besought that they would not seek him, for they could
not help his ill, and that they should not grieve for his death. Holy
Mary! cried they, the best Knight in the world is about to perish! but
we will seek him, and, if we cannot with our lives help him, we will
bear him company with our deaths. Ysanjo then told Galaor his brother's
request that he would make Gandalin a Knight, and take the Dwarf into
his service: this he delivered weeping, and they weeping also heard
it. The Dwarf for pure grief was beating his head against a wall; but
Galaor caught him up and said, Ardian come with me, since thy Master
has so commanded, and my lot shall be yours. The Dwarf answered, Sir,
I will follow you, but not as my Master, till we know some certain
tidings of Amadis. Forthwith they went to horse, and all three hastened
along the road which Ysanjo pointed. All day they rode on, meeting
no one of whom they could ask tidings, till they came where El Patin
lay wounded beside his dead horse: his Squires had found him, and
were cutting down boughs and poles to make him a litter, for he was
exceeding faint with loss of blood, so that he could not answer them,
but made sign that they should speak to his Squires, and they replied,
that their Lord had sped so ill in an encounter with the Knight who had
won the Firm Island. Good Squires, know you which way he went?—No; but
before we came up to this place we met an armed Knight in the forest,
upon a stout horse, and he was weeping and accusing his fortune: a
Squire behind him carried his arms; the shield had two lions azure in a
field or., and the Squire was lamenting also. That is he! cried they;
and they pushed on with great speed till they came out of the forest
upon a great plain, where there were many roads in every direction,
so that they knew not which way to take; therefore they agreed to
separate, and meet at the court of Lisuarte upon St. John's day, that
if by then they had been unsuccessful in their search, they might
consult anew how to find him. There then they embraced and separated,
each earnestly bent on his quest, but in vain; for, when Amadis reached
the open country, he took none of those roads, but struck aside along a
glen, and thence made into the mountain.
He rode on lost in thought, suffering his horse to chuse the
path. About noon the horse came to some trees that grew beside a
mountain-stream, and then stopt, being weary with the heat and with the
toil of last night. Here Amadis recollected himself and looked round,
and was pleased to see no signs of a habitation: he alighted and drank
of the brook. Gandalin came up, and turning the horses to feed came
to his Master, whom he found more dead than alive; and, not daring to
disturb him, he lay down before him. Amadis continued in this mood
till sunset, then rising, he struck his foot against Gandalin: art
thou sleeping? quoth he. No, replied Gandalin, but I am thinking upon
two things which concern you, the which, if it please you to hear, I
will speak: if not, I will be silent. Amadis answered, go saddle the
horses, and let us begone: I do not chuse to be found by those who seek
me. Sir, said Gandalin, you are in a solitary place, and your horse is
so weary that, unless you allow him some rest, he cannot carry you.
Amadis replied, weeping, do what you think best: whether I stay or go,
there is no rest for me! Then Gandalin looked after the horses, and
returned to his Master, and begged him to eat of a pasty which he had
brought, but he would not. Sir, said he, shall I say the two things
whereon I have been thinking? Say what you will, quoth Amadis; I care
nothing now for any thing that may be said or done, and wish to live no
longer than till I can confess.—Then I pray you hear me, Sir: I have
thought much upon that letter which Oriana sent you, and upon the words
of the Knight with whom you fought; and seeing how light is the faith
of many women, it may be that she hath changed her affections, and so
has feigned anger against you, before you discover it. The other thing
is, that I believe her to be so good and loyal that she could not have
been thus moved, unless some great falsehood had been spoken of you,
which she believes and feels in her heart; and, since you know that you
have never been false, you should make the truth known, whereby she
will repent of what she hath done, and intreat your forgiveness for the
wrong, and you will enjoy your former happiness. It is better to take
food with this hope, than, by abandoning yourself to despair, to die
and lose her, and the glory of this world, and even the other. Hold thy
peace, for God's sake! quoth Amadis, for such foolishness and lies as
thou hast uttered, are enough to provoke the whole world. Oriana, my
Lady, has never done wrong; and, if I perish, it is but reasonable, not
for my deserving, but to accomplish her will and command: if I did not
know that thou hast said this to comfort me, I would cut off thy head!
you have greatly displeased me: never say the like to me again! He then
turned away in anger, and walked along the side of the stream.
But Gandalin, who for two days and a night had not slept, was overcome
with heaviness, and at length fell asleep. When Amadis saw this, he
saddled his horse, and hid Gandalin's saddle and bridle among the
bushes, that he might not be able to find them; and, taking his arms,
he struck into the wildest part of the mountain. All night he went; and
the next day till vespers, then he came to a plain at the foot of a
mountain: there were two high trees there that grew over a fountain,
and there he went to give his horse drink, for they had found no water
all that day. When he came up to the fountain, he saw an old man in a
religious habit, who was giving his ass water; his beard and hair were
grey, and his habit was very poor, being made of goat's hair. Amadis
saluted him, and asked him if he was a Priest. The good man answered,
he had been one forty years. God be praised! quoth Amadis: I beseech
you for the love of God stay here to-night, and hear my confession, of
which I am in great need. In God's name! said the old man. Then Amadis
alighted, laid his arms upon the ground, and took the saddle from his
horse and let him feed; and he disarmed, and knelt before the good
man, and began to kiss his feet. The good man took him by the hand
and raised him, and made him sit by him, and, beholding him well, he
thought him the goodliest Knight that ever he saw, but he was pale,
and his face and neck were stained with tears, so that the old man
had great pity, and said, Sir Knight, it seems that you are in great
affliction: if it be for any sin that you have committed, and these
tears spring from repentance, in a happy hour came you here! but if it
be for any worldly concerns, from which by your youth and comeliness
it seems you cannot be removed, remember God, and beseech him of
his mercy to bring you to his service. He then raised his hand and
blessed him, and bade him relate all the sins he could call to mind.
Hereon Amadis began the whole discourse of his life, without letting
any thing pass. The good man then said, seeing that you are of such
understanding, and of so high a lineage, you ought not to despair and
cast yourself away for any thing that may befall you, much less for
the action of a woman, for they are as easily won as lightly lost. I
counsel you to lay aside such folly, for the love of God, to whom it
is displeasing, and even for worldly reason, for man ought not to love
where he is not beloved. Good Sir, replied Amadis, I am now in such
extremity that I cannot live any long time: I beseech you, by that God
whose faith you hold, take me with you for the little while I have to
live, that I may have comfort for my soul. My horse and arms I need no
longer: I will leave them here, and go with you on foot, and perform
whatever penitence you enjoin. If you refuse, you will sin before God,
for else I shall wander and perish in this mountain. When the good man
saw him thus resolute, he said to him, with a heart wholly bent to his
good, Certes, Sir, it becomes not a Knight like you to abandon himself
as if he had lost the whole world, by reason of a woman: their love
is no longer than while they see you with their eyes, and hear such
words as you say to them, and that past, presently they forget you;
especially in those false loves that are begun against the Lord: the
same sin which makes them sweet at first, gives them a bitterness in
the end, as you experience. But you who are of such prowess, and have
such power, you who are the true and loyal protector of such as are
oppressed, great wrong would it be to the world if you thus forsake
it. I know not what she is who hath brought you to this extremity, but
if all the worth and beauty of the sex were brought together in one,
I know that such a man as you ought not to be lost for her. Good Sir,
quoth Amadis, I ask not your counsel upon this, where it is not wanted;
but, for my soul's sake, I pray you take me in your company, for else I
shall have no remedy, but to die in this mountain. The old man hearing
this, had such compassion on him that the tears fell down his long
white beard. Sir, my son, said he, I live in a dreary place, and a
hard life; my hermitage is full seven leagues out at sea, upon a high
rock, to which no ship can come except in summer time. I have lived
there these thirty years, and he who lives there must renounce all the
pleasures and delights of the world, and all my support is the alms
which the people of the land here bestow upon me. I promise you, said
Amadis, this is the life I desire for the little while I shall live,
and I beseech you, for the love of God, let me go with you. The good
man, albeit against his will, consented; and Amadis said, now, Father,
command me what to do, and I will be obedient. The good man gave him
his blessing, and said vespers, and then taking bread and fish from
his wallet, he bade Amadis eat; but Amadis refused, though he had been
three days without tasting food. You are to obey me, said the good man,
and I command you to eat, else your soul will be in great danger if you
die. Then he took a little food; and when it was time to sleep, the old
man spread his cloak and laid him down thereon, and Amadis laid himself
down at his feet.
The most part of the night Amadis did nothing but turn from side to
side, but at last being sore wearied he fell asleep, and in that sleep
he dreamt that he was fastened in a dark chamber, where there was
no light at all, neither could he find any way to come out thereof,
whereat he greatly lamented; then he thought that his cousin Mabilia
and the Damsel of Denmark came to him, and there was a sun-beam before
them which dispelled the darkness, and they took him by the hand,
saying, Come forth, Sir, to this great palace. And he thought that he
was right joyful; and going out he saw his Lady Oriana surrounded with
a great flame of fire, whereat he cried out, Holy Mary, help her! and
ran through the fire to save her, feeling no hurt, and took her in her
arms and carried her into a garden, the greenest and pleasantest that
ever he had seen. At the loud cry which he made the good man awoke, and
took him by the hand, asking him what he ailed? Sir, said he, I felt
such pain in my sleep that I was almost dead. So it seemed by your cry,
said the old man, but it is time to set out; then he got upon his ass.
Amadis would have walked by him, but the good man with great entreaty
made him mount his horse, and so they fared on together.
As they went, Amadis besought him to grant one boon, which should be
no-ways hurtful, the which the old man granted. I pray you then, said
Amadis, that so long as we are together you will not tell any man who
I am, nor any thing concerning me, and that you will call me by some
other name, not my own; and, when I am dead, you tell my brethren of
me, that they may take my body into their country. Your life and
death, said the good man, are in the hands of God, so talk no more
of this, he will help you if you know and love and serve him as you
ought; but tell me, by what name will you be called?—Even by whatever
it shall please you.—So the old man, seeing how fair he was, and in
how forlorn a condition, replied, I will give you a name conformable
to your appearance and distress, you shall be called Beltenebros.
Now Beltenebros being interpreted, signifyeth, the Fair Forlorn. The
name pleased Amadis, and he admired the good sense of the old man
in chusing it; so by this name he was long known, till it became as
renowned as that of Amadis. Thus communing they reached the sea-side
just as the night closed in; there they found a bark, wherein the good
man might cross to his hermitage. Beltenebros gave his horse to the
mariners, and they gave him in exchange a cloak of goat skin, and a
garment of coarse grey woollen. They embarked, and Beltenebros asked
the good man what was his own name, and the name of his abode. They
call my dwelling-place, said he, the Poor Rock, because none can live
there without enduring great poverty: my own name is Andalod. I was
a clerk of some learning, and spent my youth in many vanities, till
it pleased God to awaken me, and then I withdrew to this solitary
abode: for thirty years I have never left it, till now that I went to
the burial of my sister. At length they reached the Rock and landed,
and the mariners returned to the main land. Thus Amadis, now called
Beltenebros, remained on the Poor Rock, partaking the austerities of
the hermit, not for devotion, but for despair, forgetful of his great
renown in arms, and hoping and expecting death,—all for the anger of a
woman!
When Gandalin awoke in the mountain, he looked round him, and seeing
only his own horse, started up, misdoubting what had happened; he
called aloud, and searched among the shrubs in vain, he could find
neither Amadis nor his horse. Then, knowing that Amadis was departed,
he turned to his horse to ride after him, but the saddle and bridle
were gone! upon that he cursed himself and his evil fortune, and the
day wherein he was born, going from one place to another, till at
length he espied the harness, and immediately set out on pursuit.
Five days he rode on, sleeping in desert places, enquiring at every
habitation for his Master. On the sixth, chance led him to the fountain
where Amadis had left his armour. Here he beheld a tent, in which were
two Damsels: he alighted, and asked them if they had seen a Knight who
bore two lions azure in a golden field. They answered that they had not
seen him, but such a shield and the whole harness of a Knight, they
had found beside that fountain. When Gandalin heard this, he tore his
hair, and exclaimed, Holy Mary, help me! my Master, the best Knight in
the world, is dead or lost! how badly have I served you, my Lord! and
now with reason ought I to be hated by all men, and the earth ought
not to suffer me upon her, since I have left you at such a time! You
were he who succoured all, and now all have forsaken you! the world and
all in it have abandoned you! and I, caitiff wretch, and more wretched
than all that ever were born, have left you in your death! And with
that, for excess of passion, he fell down. The Damsels shrieked out,
Holy Mary, help! the Squire is dead! and they ran to him, and flung
water in his face, but it was long before they could recal him to his
senses. Good Squire, they cried, be not desperate for a thing which
is not certain: you had better seek him till you learn whether he be
alive or dead: good men ought to bear up against sorrow, not to die in
despair. Gandalin took heart at their words, and resolved to seek his
Master as long as he lived. Ladies, said he, where did you see these
arms?—We will tell you willingly: we were in the company of Don Guilan
the Pensive, who delivered us and twenty other Knights and Damsels
from the prison of Gandinos the ruffian, behaving himself there so
valiantly that he hath destroyed the wicked customs of the castle, and
constrained the Lord thereof to swear never more to maintain the same.
We came with Guilan to this fountain four days ago, and when he saw the
shield for which you enquired, he was very sorrowful, and alighting,
said, the shield of the best Knight in the world should not lie thus!
and with that, weeping sorely, he hung the shield upon this tree, and
bade us keep it while he rode to seek him whose it was. We set up our
tents here, and Guilan sought for him three days without success:
yesterday he returned, and this morning, giving his own arms to his
Squires, he girded on the sword and took the shield, saying, By God,
shield, thou makest a bad exchange, in losing thy master to go with me!
He told us, he would carry the arms to Queen Brisena. We also, and all
who were delivered by him, are going to that court, to beg the Queen of
her goodness to recompense Don Guilan, as the Knights will beseech the
King. Then God be with you! quoth Gandalin. I shall take your advice;
and, as the most caitiff and unhappy wretch in the world, go seek for
him upon whom my life or death depends.
_CHAPTER 7._
On the tenth day after he had left Amadis in the forest, Durin reached
London, and, alighting at his own lodging, went straight to the Queen's
palace. So soon as Oriana saw him, her heart throbbed violently, so
that she could not calm it, and she went into her chamber and lay down
upon the bed, bidding the Damsel of Denmark go for her brother, and
bring him to her secretly. The Damsel returned with Durin, and leaving
him with her mistress, went out to Mabilia. Now, friend, said Oriana,
tell me where you have been, and where you found Amadis, and what he
did when he read my letter, and if you have seen Queen Briolania:
tell me every thing. Then Durin related how he had followed Amadis
from Sobradisa to the Firm Island, and arrived there just as Amadis
was passing under the Arch of True Lovers, under the which none might
pass that had been false to his first love. How, cried she, dared
he prove that adventure, knowing that he could not accomplish it? It
did not turn out so, replied the Squire; he accomplished it with more
loyalty than any other had ever there displayed, and was received with
more honour, and such signs as had never been seen before. When Oriana
heard this, her joy was very great, that that which had occasioned her
great anger was thus disproved. He proceeded with his tale, how Amadis
had won the Forbidden Chamber. Hold! quoth she, and she lifted up her
hands and began to pray God that she might one day be in that Chamber
with him who had worthily won it. Now, quoth she, tell me what did
Amadis when you gave him the letter? The tears came into Durin's eyes.
Lady, I advise you not to ask, for you have done the worst cruelty
and devilry that ever Damsel committed. Holy Mary! cried Oriana,
what art thou saying? I say, repeated Durin, that you have unjustly
destroyed the best and truest Knight that ever woman had, or will have
to the end of the world. Cursed be the hour in which such a thing was
devised, and cursed be death that did not take me before I carried
such a message: if I had known what I carried, I would rather have
slain myself than have appeared before him, for you in sending that
letter, and I in taking it, have been the cause of his death. Then he
related every thing that had passed, and all that Amadis had said, and
how he was gone into the mountain to die. While he was relating these
things, all Oriana's anger was gone, and her shame and anguish became
so intolerable, that when he had ceased she could not utter a word,
but remained like one who had lost her senses. Durin, albeit that he
thought she well deserved this suffering, was yet moved to pity, and he
went to Mabilia and his sister, and said to them, go and help Oriana,
for, if she hath done wrong, her punishment is come upon her: and he
went his way.
They ran to her, and seeing in what state she was, they fastened the
door of her chamber, and threw water in her face, and brought her to
herself, and she then began to lament what she had done, and cry out
for death. But those true friends sent again for Durin, and learnt from
him all that had past, and then began to comfort her, and they made her
write a letter to request his forgiveness, and bid him come with all
speed to the castle of Miraflores, there to receive her atonement. This
letter the Damsel of Denmark would take and search for him, for she
refused no trouble or difficulty for the two persons in the world whom
she loved best; and, because Amadis in his sorrow had talked so much
of Gandales, they thought he might be with him; and they agreed, as a
pretext for her going there, that she should carry gifts to the Queen
of Scotland, and tidings of her daughter Mabilia. Oriana therefore told
her mother they were about to send the Damsel, and Brisena approving
thereof, sent also presents from herself. This being settled, the
Damsel, in company with her brother Durin, and Enil, a nephew of
Gandales, rode to a port called Vegil, which is in that part of Great
Britain towards Scotland, and embarking there, in seven days they came
to the town called Poligez, in Scotland. From thence they proceeded to
the castle of Gandales; him they met going to the chace, and saluted
him; and he, perceiving that the Damsel was of a foreign land by her
speech, asked her from whence she came. I am the messenger, quoth she,
of some Damsels who love you much, and who have sent gifts to the Queen
of Scotland.—Good Damsel, and who are they?—Oriana, daughter of King
Lisuarte, and Mabilia, whom you know. Then Gandales joyfully bade them
welcome, and took them to his castle. As they were conversing, the old
Knight enquired for his foster son, Amadis. At this the Damsel was
grieved, perceiving that he was not there as they had hoped; but, not
to distress Gandales by the truth, she only answered that he was not
yet returned from Sobradisa. We thought, said she, that he would first
accompany his cousin Agrayes here, to see you and the Queen his aunt;
and I bring letters to him from Queen Brisena and his other friends,
which he would be right glad to receive. This she said, that if Amadis
were there in secret, he might be induced to see her. She remained with
Gandales two days, then proceeded to the Queen.
_CHAPTER 8._
Don Guilan the Pensive proceeded with the arms toward the court of
Lisuarte. He always carried the shield of Amadis round his neck,
except when he was constrained to fight, and then he took his own. So
as he rode, two nephews of Arcalaus met him and knew the shield, and
attempted to force it from him, saying they would take that shield, or
the head of him who carried it, to their uncle. When Guilan knew of
how bad a race they were, he cared the less for them, and gave them
both battle. They were strong Knights, and both younger men than he;
he, nevertheless, was a valiant man and tried in arms, so that he slew
one, and drove the other to flight. That evening he took up his lodging
in the house of a Knight whom he knew, who welcomed him gladly, and
gave him another lance, for his own was broken in the encounter. He
continued his way till he came to a river called Guinon, which was a
great water, and over it was a wooden-bridge, just so broad that one
horseman might come and another go. At one end of the bridge was a
Knight who wished to pass; he bore a shield vert, with a bend argent,
whereby Guilan knew him to be his cousin Ladasin. On the other side
was a Knight who kept the passage; he rode a large bay horse, and did
bear in his shield argent a lion sable: this Knight called out aloud to
Ladasin, You must joust, Knight, if you would pass. Your joust shall
not prevent me, quoth Ladasin. They ran at each other upon the bridge,
and Ladasin and his horse fell into the river. There would Ladasin
have perished, by reason of the weight of his arms, and the height
whence he had fallen, if by good hap he had not caught the boughs of
some willows, by which he got to the bank. Don Guilan ran to his help,
and with the aid of his Squires got him out of the water. Cousin, said
he, you would hardly have been saved without these boughs: all Knights
should avoid to joust upon these bridges, for they who keep them have
their horses practised to the place, and rather by that, than by their
own prowess, win the honour. I would rather turn out of the way and go
round, if this had not happened to you, but now I must try to revenge
you. By this, Ladasin's horse had got upon the opposite bank, and the
Knight bade his servants lead him to the castle, which was a strong
and pleasant fortress, built in the river, and the way to it was by a
bridge of stone. The Knight was ready at the bridge-end. Don Guilan
gave the shield of Amadis to his Squire, and took his own, and they met
together upon the bridge with a most rude encounter. The Knight was
unhorsed and fell into the water; Guilan also was dismounted, and his
horse went over, but he saved himself by clinging to the planks. The
Knight got upon Guilan's horse, and so to shore, while Guilan's Squires
took the bay courser for their master. Don Guilan presently saw the
Knight of the bridge shaking off the water, and holding the bridle:
give me my horse, said he, and let me depart. How! quoth he, think you
to escape so lightly with this?—Quoth Guilan, have we not performed the
custom? The battle is not yet over, cried the Knight, because we both
fell: we must decide it with the sword. Perforce must I fight? cried
Guilan: is not the wrong done already enough, for bridges should be
free for every passenger? Will you, nill you, quoth he of the bridge,
you shall feel how my sword can cut. He then sprung upon Guilan's
horse, without setting his foot in the stirrup, and placed himself
right in the road. Don Cavalier, tell me, said he, before we fight,
if thou art of Lisuarte's country or court?—Why ask you?—I wish it
pleased God, that I had King Lisuarte here as I have thee, by my head
his reign should be finished. Certes, quoth Guilan, you have now given
me a good will to fight with thee, which before I had not: I am of his
household, and, if it be in me, you shall never more do him disservice.
Before noon, quoth the Knight, you shall carry my message to him, and
I will tell you who I am, and what present I will send him: my name
is Gandalod, son to Barsinan, Lord of Sansuena, he whom King Lisuarte
slew in London. The presents you shall carry him, are the heads of
four of his Knights, whom I hold prisoners in yonder tower: the one is
Giontes his nephew, and thy own right hand, which I mean to cut off and
tie round thy neck. Don Guilan laid hand to sword; you have boasting
enough, if that were all that were needed.
Then began so fierce a battle, that Ladasin and the Squires thought
even the conqueror could not escape with life; but they were both hardy
Knights, and their armour of excellent temper, and they knew how to
defend themselves. Now when their fight was at the hottest, they heard
the winding of a horn from the top of the tower. Gandalod knew not what
it could mean, and Guilan thought it was a signal for succour to his
enemy; therefore they both more eagerly bestirred themselves to end the
battle. Gandalod grappled with him, and they both fell; then was the
fight closer and more dangerous, but Guilan had the advantage; it was
evident that his antagonist waxed weary and weak, and at length, by a
well driven blow, Don Guilan lopt off his right arm. He shrieked out,
and turned to fly to his tower, but Guilan reached him, plucked the
helmet from his head, and bade him chuse instant death, or to present
himself with his presents, but in another guise, to King Lisuarte.
I will rather trust his mercy, quoth Gandalod, than be slain here
outright.
Don Guilan then took horse, and rode with Ladasin towards the tower,
where there was a great uproar. The Knights had broken from their
prison and seized arms, and one of them it was who wound the horn, and
now they had won the castle; the gate was opened, and the servants
and one Knight came flying out: they called out to Ladasin and Guilan
to kill those villains, and particularly the Knight: three of the men
escaped them, but the Knight they took. Then said Guilan to them,
Sirs, I cannot tarry, but my cousin Ladasin shall keep you company; let
the castle be kept for me, and do you carry this Knight and Gandalod to
King Lisuarte for his judgment. Then he gave his own shield, which was
much battered, to his Squire, and took that of Amadis, and as he hung
it round his neck the tears came. They knew the shield, and hearing how
Don Guilan had found it, were sorely troubled, thinking that some great
mishap had befallen Amadis. So he proceeded to the court, and all that
saw the shield crowded round him; and the King said, for God's sake,
Don Guilan, tell us what you know of Amadis. I know nothing of him,
Sir, quoth he, but how I found the shield I will declare before the
Queen. So he was taken to the Queen, and he knelt before her weeping,
and told her how he had found the arms of Amadis, and sought for him
three days in vain. Knowing, said he, the value of that good Knight,
and that it was his desire to employ it till death in your service, I
have brought you these arms, in testimony of the duty which I do owe
both to you and to him. Let them be placed where all may see them;
there may be some among the many strangers who come here, who may know
some tidings of their master, and they will be memorials to all who
follow arms, that they may take example by his great chivalry. Greatly
was the Queen distressed at this, and Lisuarte also, and all the
court; but Oriana could not remain there, and she went to her bed, and
bitterly reproaching her own folly, wished for death. Albeit Mabilia
did somewhat cheer her with a hope that the Damsel of Denmark might
find him and repair all.
The Knight and Damsels whom Don Guilan had released, soon arrived,
and the two Damsels who had seen Gandalin, and they related what
lamentation a Squire had made over the arms. Presently after came
Ladasin, and the Knights who led Gandalod prisoner; and when Lisuarte
heard what cruelties he had purposed, he said to him, here I slew
thy father for the great treason which he committed against me, and
here thou shalt die for that which thou didst purpose to commit. So
he commanded him, and the Knight his follower, to be thrown from the
Tower, before which Barsinan had been burnt.
_CHAPTER 9._
Beltenebros and the Hermit were one day sitting on the stone-bench
by the door of their chapel, when the old man said, I pray you, son,
tell me what it was that made you cry out so in your sleep, when we
were by the fountain of the plain? That shall I willingly, father, he
replied, and I beseech you tell me what you understand by it. Then he
related to him the manner of his dream, only the names of the women,
those he did not tell. The good man mused for a while, and then said,
with a cheerful countenance, Beltenebros, you have given me great
pleasure by this account, and you also have great reason to rejoice.
The dark chamber, in the which you thought yourself to be, and from
whence you could not get out, signifieth this great tribulation which
you now endure. The Damsels who opened the door, are those friends
who continually solicit your cause with her whom you love so much,
and they will succeed so well as to withdraw you from this place. The
sun-beam which went before them, is the joyful news that they are to
send you here; and the fire, wherein you saw your Lady enveloped, is
the great pain of love which she suffers for you as well as you for
her: from that fire you delivered her, that is, from the pain which
your presence will remove; and the pleasant garden is a sign of great
happiness, wherewith you shall pass your lives. Truly, I know a man of
my habit should not discourse of such things as these, yet it is more
for God's service to speak the truth that may comfort you, than to
conceal it, seeing your desperate state.
Beltenebros knelt down and kissed the old man's hands, thanking God
for having given him such a friend in his need, and praying with tears
that he would mercifully be pleased to accomplish the words of that
holy man his servant. Then he besought him to tell the interpretation
of the dream he had dreamt before Durin gave him the letter, which when
the Hermit had heard, he answered, This I can show you clearly, for it
is all accomplished. The place overshadowed with trees, was the Firm
Island, and the people who made such great joy about you, signified
the great pleasure of the Islanders in gaining you for their Lord. The
man who came to you with the box of bitter electuary, was the messenger
of your Lady, for the bitterness of her words, you, who have proved
them, can best tell; and you laid aside your arms. The stony place
amidst the water, is this Poor Rock; and the religious man who spoke
to you in an unknown tongue, am I, who tell you the holy word of God,
which before you neither knew nor thought of.
Verily, said Beltenebros, you tell me the truth of this dream, for
these things have all come to pass, and therefore great cause have I to
hope for the future. Yet was not this hope so great or so certain as
to remove his sorrow, for he would often sit with his eyes fixed upon
the ground, remembering what he had been, and his life would have been
endangered by exceeding melancholy, had it not been for the counsel of
that good man. And sometimes, to take him away from that pensiveness,
the Hermit would make him go with two nephews that kept him company
there, to angle in a little stream hard by, where they caught plenty of
fish.
Here Beltenebros dwelt in penitence and great grief, and he past the
night most frequently under some large trees in the garden near the
chapel, that he might there lament, without the knowledge of the Hermit
or the boys; and calling to mind the great wrong he endured, he made
this song in his passion:
_Sith that the victory of right deserved
By wrong they do withhold for which I served;
Now sith my glory thus hath had a fall,
Glorious it is to end my life withall.
By this my death, likewise my woes release,
My hope, my joy, my inflamed love doth cease.
But ever will I mind my during pain,
For they, to end my glory and my gain,
Myself have murdered, and my glory slain._[156:A]
[156:A] This is the version in the English translation from the
French: the matter is preserved, the manner lost. The poem is
curious from its age; it is printed with these marks:
Pues seme niega victoria
dojusto mera deuida
alli do muere la gloria (:·:)
es gloria morir la vida.
Y con esta muerte mia
moriran todas mis daños, (:·:) (:·:)
mi esperanza y mi porfia
el amor y sus engaños;
mas quedara en mi memoria
lastima nunca perdida, (:·:)
que por me matar la gloria,
me mataron gloria y vida.
He had passed one night as usual under these trees, when towards
morning he heard certain instruments touched so sweetly, that he
took great delight in hearing them, and marvelled what it might be,
knowing that in that place there dwelt none else than the Hermit and
his nephews. He rose, and went softly towards the sound, and saw that
there were two Damsels by a fountain, who, tuning their voices to their
lutes, did sing a most pleasant song. He stood awhile listening, then
advanced, and said, God save you, gentle Damsels, but your sweet music
has made me lose my matins! They wondered who he should be, and said
to him, tell us, friend, for courtesy, what place is this where we have
landed, and who are you who speak to us? Ladies, he replied, they call
it the Rock of the Hermitage, because of the Hermit that dwells here.
As for me, I am a poor man who bear him company, doing great and hard
penance for the sins that I have committed. Then said they, friend, is
there any house here where our Lady could rest for two or three days?
for she is very sick: she is a Lady of high rank and wealth, whom love
hath greatly tormented. Beltenebros answered, here is a little cabin,
it is very small, in which I lodge: if the Hermit pleases, you shall
have it, and I will asleep abroad in the field, as I often use to do.
For this courtesy the Damsels heartily thanked him. By this the day
began to break, and Beltenebros saw under some trees the Lady of whom
they spake, lying upon a rich bed; four armed Knights and five serving
men, who attended her, were sleeping on the shore, and a well appointed
ship rode at anchor. The Lady was young and beautiful, so that he took
pleasure in beholding her.
Beltenebros then went to the Hermit, who was robing himself to say
mass. Father, said he, there are strangers here: it will be well
to wait mass for them. So they both went out from the chapel. The
Knights and serving-men were carrying the sick Lady towards them, and
her Damsels were coming with her, and they asked the Hermit if there
was any house wherein they could place her. He answered, here are two
cabins: I live in the one, and by my will never woman shall enter that.
This poor man, who makes his penitence here, lodges in the other, and
I will not remove him against his will. To this Beltenebros replied,
Father, you may well give them that, for I will rest under the trees,
as I often do. They then entered the chapel to hear mass; but the sight
of Knights and Damsels reminded Beltenebros of what he had been, and
of his own Lady, and renewed in him his exceeding sorrow, so that he
sobbed aloud, and kneeling down at the altar, besought the Virgin Mary
to help him in his affliction. The Knights and Damsels, who saw how
he wept, held him for a man of good life, and marvelled how he could
employ his youth and beauty in that desert place, for any sin that he
could have committed, seeing that the mercy of God may be obtained in
all places alike, by such as truly repent. As soon as mass was ended,
they carried the Lady into his cabin, and laid her in her rich bed,
and she lay there weeping and wringing her hands. The Damsels went
for their lutes to solace her, and Beltenebros asked them wherefore
she appeared so distressed. Friend, said they, this Lady hath great
possessions, and is of high rank and beautiful; though her sorrow
doth now diminish her fairness, and we will tell you the cause of her
sorrow, tho' it should not be told to others. It is excessive love that
afflicts her: she is going to seek him whom she loves at the court of
King Lisuarte, and God grant that she may find him there! When he heard
the house of King Lisuarte mentioned, and that the Lady was sick of
love, the tears came into his eyes, and he said, I pray you, Ladies,
tell me the name of the Knight whom she loves. They answered, he is
not of this country, but is one of the best Knights in the world,
excepting only two who are of the greatest renown.—By the faith you
owe to God, I beseech you tell his name, and the name of those other
two.—We will tell you, on condition that you in return tell us if you
be a Knight, as you seem by every thing, and likewise what is your
name. I am content, said he, that I may know what I ask.—Know then,
the Knight whom our Lady loveth, is Don Florestan, brother to the good
Knight Amadis of Gaul, and to Don Galaor, and son of King Perion
of Gaul and the Countess of Selandria. Now, quoth he, you tell me
truly of his goodness, for you cannot say so much good of him as he
deserveth.—Do you then know him?—It is not long since I saw him in the
house of Briolania, for I saw the battle there of Amadis and his cousin
Agrayes against Abiseos and his sons; after which Florestan arrived
there, and I heard Don Galaor speak great things of his prowess, for
they say he fought with him.—Yes, replied the Damsels, it was in that
battle they knew each other, and then Florestan went away.—What! is
this the Lady of the island where that battle was fought?—The same.—Her
name is Corisanda. I do not now grieve for her so much, for he is so
gentle and of such disposition, that well I know he will do whatever is
her pleasure. Now then, said the Damsels, tell us who you are. Gentle
Damsels, replied he, I am a Knight who have had more pleasure in the
vanities of the world than falls to my lot now, for which I am now
suffering, and my name is Beltenebros. God's mercy upon you! said they:
we must now go play to our Lady.
After they had sung to her awhile, they told her what Beltenebros had
said of Florestan. Ah, call him here, cried she, he must be some good
man, since he knows Don Florestan. They brought him to her. These
Damsels, said she, tell me that you have seen and that you love Don
Florestan: by the faith you owe to God, tell me all you know concerning
him. Beltenebros then related how he had gone with his brethren and
Agrayes to the Firm Island, and that he had not seen him since. Tell
me, said Corisanda, are you akin to him, for you seem to love him
much?—Lady, I love him for his great valour, and because his father
knighted me, wherefore I am greatly bound to him and his sons; but I
am very sad for the tidings which I heard of Amadis before my coming
here.—What are they?—I met a Damsel in a forest by the way side,
singing a sweet song, and I asked her who had made it. She answered, a
Knight, to whom God give more comfort than he had when that was made,
for by the words it seemed he had suffered great wrong in love, and
complained heavily. I stayed two days with the Damsel till I had learnt
it. She told me that Amadis did show it her, and that he wept at the
time and was in great misery. I beseech you, quoth Corisanda, teach
it to my Damsels, that they may sing and play it to me. That will I,
said he, for your own sake, and for his sake whom you love; albeit that
is no time for singing, nor for aught that is matter of joy. He then
went with the Damsels to the chapel, and showed them the song which he
had made: his voice was of rare sweetness, and now his melancholy made
it more soft and in unison; and the Damsels learnt the song, and did
sing it to their Lady, who took great pleasure to hear them. Corisanda
remained there four days; on the fifth she took leave of the Hermit,
and asked Beltenebros if he should remain there long? Lady, till I die,
he replied. Then she entered her ship, and made voyage to London.
Lisuarte and the Queen received her in a manner suitable to her high
rank, and lodged her in the palace, and the Queen asked her if she had
any suit to Lisuarte, that, if so, she might further it. My Lady, said
Corisanda, I thank you for the favour; but my coming is to seek Don
Florestan, and because tidings from all parts reach this court, I will
remain here some time till I hear news of him. Good friend, replied
Brisena, that may you do so long as you think good; at present we have
no other news of him, than that he is gone in search of his brother
Amadis, who is lost, we know not for what cause; and she then related
how Guilan had found the arms. Hearing this, she began to weep, and
say, O Lord God, what will become of my Lord and friend Don Florestan!
for he so loves that brother, that, if he finds him not, he also will
become desperate, and I shall never see him more! The Queen having
great pity, consoled her, and Oriana, who was by, hearing the love
she bore to the brother of Amadis, had the greater desire to honour
her, and accompanied her to her chamber, and learnt from her all her
love. Thus talking with her and Mabilia of sundry things, Corisanda
related how she had been upon the Poor Rock, and found a Knight there
doing hard penance, who had taught her Damsels a song made by Amadis
in his affliction, and the words, she said, were very sad. My good
friend and Lady, quoth Mabilia, beseech you let your Damsels sing it! I
desire much to hear it, seeing it was made by that Knight, my cousin.
The Damsels then sung the song, which it was a pleasure to hear, and
yet so sorrowful that it made those sad who heard it. But Oriana, who
understood the complaint, could no longer abide there for the shame of
the tears that she felt flowing, and she went to her chamber. Mabilia
therefore said to Corisanda, I see Oriana is unwell; she hath for
courtesy remained here longer than she should: I must go and assist
her; but tell me what manner of man was he whom you saw upon the Poor
Rock of the Hermitage, and what did he know concerning Amadis? She
then told her how they had found him, that she had never seen a man so
comely in grief and being wasted, nor one of such manners in poverty,
nor a man so young of such discourse and reason. Mabilia forthwith went
joyfully to her friend's chamber. He who asks news, said she, sometimes
learns more than he expects: the melancholy man who lives upon the
Poor Rock, and calls himself Beltenebros, by all that I can learn
from Corisanda, must be Amadis. Oriana lifted up her hands, O Lord of
the World, grant that it be true! Dear friend, tell me what to do,
for I have neither sense nor judgment: unfortunate wretch, who by my
own folly and intemperate passion have lost all my happiness! Mabilia
turned away her face, that the tears might not be seen: we must wait
for the Damsel's return, said she; if she should not find him, leave it
to me: I am sure he is this Beltenebros.
_CHAPTER 10._
Ten days that Damsel of Denmark remained in Scotland, not so much for
pleasure, as because she had suffered much from the sea, and for the
ill success of her search, and she feared that to return, when she had
sped so ill, would be the death of her mistress. At length she took
her leave, and receiving presents from the Queen of Scotland to Queen
Brisena and Oriana and Mabilia, she embarked for Great Britain, not
knowing what other course to pursue; but that Lord of the World, who
to those that are utterly without hope or remedy shows something of
his power, that we may know it is he that helpeth us and not our own
wisdom, he changed her voyage, to her own great fear, and the fear
and sorrow of all in the ship; for the sea began to rage, and such
a tempest arose, that the sailors lost all power over the ship, and
all knowledge of their course, and the ship was driven whither the
winds would, they that were in her having no hope of life. At last
one morning they came to the foot of the Poor Rock; some of them knew
the place, and said that Andalod the Hermit lived there, which, when
the Damsel heard, she ordered them to put to land, that being rescued
from such a danger, she might hear mass from that holy man, and return
thanks to the Virgin Mary for the mercy which her glorious Son had
shown them.
Beltenebros was sitting at this time by the fountain under the trees,
where he had passed the night, and he was now so reduced that he did
not expect to live fifteen days. What with weeping, and with the
wasting away of sorrow, his face was more deadly pale than sickness
could have made it, and so worn down and wan that no one could have
known him. He saw the ship, and the Damsels and two Squires landing;
but his thoughts being wholly bent upon death, the things that once
gave him pleasure, as in seeing strangers that he might help them if
they needed succour, now had become hateful. So he rose and went into
the chapel, and told the Hermit that there were strangers landed and
coming up; and then he knelt before the altar, and prayed God to have
mercy upon his soul, for he was soon going to his account. The Hermit
vested himself to say mass, and the Damsel with Durin and Enil entered.
After she had prayed, she uncovered her face. Beltenebros rose from his
knees, and seeing her and Durin, the shock was so great that he fell
down senseless. The Hermit thought him dead, and exclaimed, Ah, Lord
Almighty, why has it not pleased thee to have pity upon him who might
have done so much in thy service! and the tears fell fast adown his
long white beard. Good Damsel, said he, let these men help me to carry
him to his chamber, I believe it is the last kindness we can do him.
Enil and Durin assisted to lift him up, and they carried him into his
chamber, and laid him upon a poor bed, and neither of them knew him.
After the Damsel had heard mass, she resolved to make her meal ashore,
for she was weary of the sea. So by chance she asked who that poor
man was, and what sore sickness afflicted him.—He is a Knight, who
liveth here in penance. He is greatly to be blamed, quoth she, to
chuse so desert a place. It is as you say, replied the Hermit, for he
has done so for the foolish vanities of the world, more than for the
service of God. I will see him, said the Damsel, since you tell me he
is a Knight, perhaps there may be something in the ship which would
relieve him.—That you may do, but he is so near his end, that I believe
Death will ease you of that trouble. Beltenebros was lying upon his
bed, thinking what he should do: if he made himself known, that would
be breaking his Lady's command, and, if he did not, he should remain
without any hope or possible remedy; but he thought to disobey her will
would be worse than death, and so determined to be silent. The Damsel
came to the bedside, and said, Good man, I learn from the Hermit that
you are a Knight, and because Damsels are beholden to all Knights for
the dangers they encounter in our defence, I resolved to see you, and
leave with you any thing which is in the ship that may contribute to
your health. He made her no answer, but sobbed with such exceeding
passion, that she thought his soul was departing; and because the room
was dark, she opened a shutter for the light, and drew near to see
if he were dead. They looked at each other some time, and the Damsel
knew him not. At last, she saw a scar in his face: it was the mark of
a wound which Arcalaus had given him with his lance, when Oriana was
rescued; then, tho' before she had no suspicion, she knew that this
was Amadis.—Ah, Holy Mary, help me! you are he, Sir! and she fell with
her face upon the bed, and knelt down, and kist his hands. Now, Sir,
said she, your compassion and pardon are needed for her who has wronged
you, for, if her unjust suspicion have reduced you to this danger,
she herself with more reason passes a life more bitter than death.
Beltenebros took her in his arms, and held her awhile, having no power
to speak. She then gave him the letter: your Lady sends you this, and
she bids you, if you are the same Amadis, whom she loves so well, to
forget the past, and come to her in the castle of Miraflores, and there
receive her atonement for your wrongs, which excessive love occasioned.
Amadis kissed the letter, and placed it upon his heart, saying, Heart,
take thy remedy, for there was none other that could save thee! This
was the letter:
If great faults committed by enmity, when humbly acknowledged, deserve
pardon, what shall we say to those which proceeded from excess of love?
Not that by this do I deny, my true friend, that I deserve exceeding
punishment, for neither having considered your truth, that had never
before failed, nor my own mind in how passionate a state it was. I pray
you receive this Damsel as coming from one who humbly confesseth her
fault, and who will tell you the wretchedness which she endures who
requests your pity, not because she deserves it, but for your comfort,
as well as her own.
Such joy had Beltenebros at this letter, that he was lost even as in
his past sorrow, and tears that he did not feel ran down his cheeks. It
was agreed between them, that the Damsel should give out how she took
him aboard for his health sake, because on that Rock he could have no
help, and that as soon as possible they should take land, and leave
the ship. Beltenebros then told the Hermit by what happy chance the
Damsel had found him, and besought him that he would take charge of the
Monastery that was to be built by his command at the foot of the rock
of the Firm Island. This the old man promised, and Beltenebros then
embarked, being known of none but the Damsel.
They soon landed with the two Squires, and left the mariners. Presently
they found a pleasant place upon the side of a brook, with many
goodly trees, and there they resolved to rest, because Beltenebros
was so weak; and there, if it had not been that the absence of his
Lady afflicted him, he would have passed the pleasantest life, and
best for his recovery that might be, for under those trees where the
brook-springs arose, they had their meals, and there was their tent
for the night. There related they to each other all that had past, and
a pleasure was it now to him to talk over his misery. Ten days they
remained, and in that time he so regained strength, that his heart felt
its old inclination for arms. He made himself known to Durin there,
and took Enil for his Squire, who knew not whom it was that he served,
but was well content with him for his gentle speech. Hence departing,
in four days they reached a nunnery; there they determined that he and
Enil should abide, while the Damsel and her brother went to Miraflores.
She then gave Beltenebros money to buy horses and armour, and for
his wants; and she left behind her part of the Queen of Scotland's
presents, that she might send Durin for them as if they had been
forgotten, and so he might bring news.
_CHAPTER 11._
After their year's vain search, Agrayes, Galaor, and Florestan, met
at the place appointed, which was a chapel half a league from London.
Gandalin came with Florestan, and, when he found no tidings of his
Master, he said to them, that they should leave their lamentation and
begin their search again, remembering what Amadis would have done for
them if they had been in like case. So they determined to enter the
court, and, if they learnt nothing there, to set out again upon their
quest; and they wept to think how happily they had accomplished all
adventures that had befallen them, and yet had failed to find him whom
they sought.
Then having heard mass at the chapel, they rode towards the city. It
was St. John's day, and presently they met King Lisuarte riding out
with all his Knights in honour of that holy day, because the Saint was
so great a Saint, and also because on that day he had been made King.
When he saw three Errant Knights approaching, he drew nigh to welcome
them. Great joy was there when they unhelmed, and at first Lisuarte
thought Florestan was Amadis, for he much resembled him; but Gandalin
and the Dwarf, when they beheld this meeting, wept with great grief.
The news soon spread: greatly was Corisanda rejoiced thereat, and
Olinda, the gentle friend of Agrayes, who knew how he had past under
the Arch of True Lovers. Mabilia, in joy for her brother's coming,
went for Oriana, who was sitting sorrowfully at her chamber-window,
reading. She answered, weeping and sighing as if her heart-strings
would have broken, how can I go? do you not see my face and eyes, how
they show that I have been weeping? and how can I see those Knights, in
whose company I was wont to see Amadis: it is better to die! Mabilia
comforted her how she could:—the Damsel might yet bring tidings. Nay,
quoth Oriana, if these Knights have failed, who have sought him so far
and so long, how shall she succeed? a woman! and seeking him but in
one place? But she may induce him to discover himself, said Mabilia,
for she carries comfort to him, and knows the secret of his love,
which they did not. So she cheared her, and made her wash her eyes,
and called Olinda to go with them to the Queen. Look, quoth the King
to Galaor, how ill your friend Oriana is! I grieve to see her thus,
replied he: reason is it that we should try to help her health by
our services. My good friend, Galaor, said she, God it is who heals
sickness and sorrow, and if it pleaseth him he will me, and recover
your brother Amadis, whom you have lost, and whom we all lament. Anon
an outcry was heard without, for Gandalin and the Dwarf seeing their
Master's shield where it was hung, began to lament aloud, and the
Knights were comforting them. What! cried Lisuarte, is Gandalin here?
Florestan answered, I met him two months ago seeking for his Master,
and made him bear me company. I hold Gandalin, said the King, to be
one of the best Squires in the world, and we ought to comfort him. So
he rose, and went out to him. When Oriana heard the name of Gandalin,
and the lamentation that he was making, she grew pale, and would have
fallen, but Galaor and Florestan caught her. Mabilia, who knew the
cause, ran to her, and put her arms round her neck. Good and true
friends, then said Oriana to the two brethren, if I do not show you
what honour I ought and desire to show, I pray you impute it to its
true cause, this sore illness! and then she went to her chamber. Dear
friend, said she to Mabilia, since we entered this city of London, I
have never been without some cause of sorrow: let us go to Miraflores,
that is a delightful place, and there I can have the comfort of
solitude. We will ask your parents' permission, said Mabilia, and there
the Damsel of Denmark will find us, and there you may the more freely
see him, when he shall be found. Ah, quoth Oriana, let us lose no time!
This castle of Miraflores was about two leagues from London, a little
place, but the pleasantest abode in all that land, for it was in a
wood by the side of a mountain, surrounded with orchards and gardens
that abounded with fruits and flowers, and there were fountains in the
courts canopied with trees, that all the year round bore flower and
fruit. The King one day had taken the Queen and Princess there when
he was hunting, and because the Princess was much pleased with the
place, he gave it her for her own. About a bow-shot from the gate was a
nunnery, which she had founded, and there were nuns in it of holy life.
So that night she asked permission of Lisuarte and her Mother to retire
there, which was readily granted.
The King being at table with Agrayes and his cousins, said to them, I
trust we shall have good news of Amadis, for I have sent thirty Knights
of the best of my household to seek him, and, if they fail, take you
as many as you will and seek him; but I beseech you do not depart till
after a battle which has been appointed between me and King Cildadan of
Ireland, who is a King renowned in arms, and has married the daughter
of King Abies, whom Amadis slew. The battle is to be an hundred against
an hundred, and the quarrel this: That kingdom has been obliged to
pay tribute to the Kings of Great Britain: Cildadan demands battle on
condition, that, if he be conquered, the tribute shall be doubled; but,
if he succeed, the country shall be freed therefrom. I trow he will
need all his Knights and friends! The three companions, albeit loth to
have their search delayed, yet could they not refuse to stay and share
the peril. After the cloths were removed, Florestan bade Gandalin go
to Mabilia, who wished to see him. He went accordingly, and, when they
saw each other, they both wept. Ah, Lady, quoth he, what great wrong
hath Oriana done to you and to your lineage, in depriving you of the
best Knight in the world! and what wrong hath she done to him, who
never erred against her in deed nor word! Ill hath God bestowed such
beauty and such goodness, when this could be in her! and yet none hath
lost so much by it as herself! Say not thus, Gandalin! cried Mabilia,
what she did was from exceeding love, and in the belief that he was
loving another. And then she related all that had been said by Ardian
concerning the broken sword. O God! quoth Gandalin, where were all your
understandings? he would have buried himself alive for her displeasure!
and she believed this! and thus is the best Knight in the world
destroyed! Oriana had listened to all this: she came forward as if she
had heard nothing; and weeping, so that hardly could she speak, she
said, O Gandalin! God preserve and bless you, as you shall do what you
ought! Lady, said he, in tears also, what do you command me? Kill me!
cried she, for I killed your master, and you should revenge his death,
as he would have revenged your's! And then she fell senseless.
The King bade Grumedan accompany his daughter to Miraflores, and see
that there were serving-men left there, and porters for the gate, and
all things needful. Early the next morning they set out, and when
Oriana saw the place, how fresh it was with flowers and roses, and the
water-pipes and fountains, her mind felt greatly comforted. The keys of
the castle and of the garden-gates were every night to be carried by
the porters to the Abbess Adalasta, that she might keep them securely.
I have desired to have the keys by day, said Oriana to Mabilia, that
Gandalin may get another set made, so that if by good fortune Amadis
should come, we may admit him by the postern-door thro' the garden; and
there Oriana determined to remain till she saw Amadis, or till she died
in that solitude. Her apartments were full pleasant, and before the
chamber-door there was a little court wherein three trees grew, that
quite shadowed it; and there they took their pleasure, but with great
anxiety expected the Damsel of Denmark and her tidings. The next day
the Porter came and said, a Squire asked for Mabilia. Let him in, quoth
Oriana; it is Gandalin, a right good Squire, who was brought up with
us, and is the milk-brother of Amadis, whom God preserve from harm! God
preserve him, indeed! cried the Porter, for great loss to the world
would it be if such a Knight were to perish. Lo now! said Oriana to
her friend, as the Porter went away, how Amadis is loved by all, even
by these simple men! and I who was so loved by him, I have been his
death! Herewithal Gandalin entered, and Oriana making him sit by her
side, related how she had sent the Damsel of Denmark to seek Amadis,
and what she had written to him: think you, Gandalin, said she, that he
will forgive me? You little know his heart, Lady, quoth the Squire; by
God for the least word in the letter he will come: if you bade him, he
would bury himself alive under the earth,—how much sooner will he come
at your command! And the Damsel of Denmark will sooner find him than
all the persons in the world; for, if he hid himself from me, he will
not show himself to any other. And you, Lady, should take comfort with
this hope, lest he should find your beauty so altered when he comes,
and fly from you. What, Gandalin! seem I so ugly? quoth she, being
well-pleased at his words. You seem so to yourself, said he, that you
thus hide yourself where none may see you. I do it to this end, said
Oriana, that, when thy master cometh, if he would fly, he may not be
able. She then showed him the keys, and bade him get others made like
them, that when his master came they might admit him at their pleasure.
Gandalin took the keys to London, and returned that same night with
others so exactly like them, that there was no difference, except
that these were new and the others old. Here they are! cried Mabilia,
showing them to Oriana: come, we have supt, and all the people are at
rest! let us try them. They took hand, and went in the dark to the
posterns that opened from the castle into the garden. When they were
near the first, Oriana cried, I cannot go on, I am dying with fear!
Fear nothing! quoth Mabilia, laughing as she spake, when I am here to
protect you, for I am cousin to the best Knight in the world, and am
going on his service. Oriana could not but smile. I will take courage,
and trust in your prowess in arms. Come on boldly, quoth Mabilia, and
see how I finish the adventure! if I fail, I swear for one whole year
never to hang shield from my neck, nor gird on a sword. In this merry
mood she opened the first postern, and presently the other with as
little difficulty, and then they were in the garden. How will he get
over the wall? cried Oriana. At yonder corner, replied Mabilia, there
must be a piece of wood laid on the other side, and we will give him
our hands here. You must perform this labour, for it is you who will
be paid for it. Oriana at this took hold of her cousin's coif and
threw it on the ground, and they stood laughing for some time, then
returned and fastened the gates, and went to rest. As Oriana lay down,
Mabilia cried, I wish that poor wretch were here who is now despairing!
eat, cousin! and sleep, that you may recover your beauty, as Gandalin
advised!
_CHAPTER 12._
King Lisuarte was at table; the cloths were removed, and Galaor,
Florestan, and Agrayes, were about to take their leave and conduct
Corisanda to her island, when there came a strange Knight into the
palace, all armed except his head and hands, and with him two Squires,
and he carried in his hand a letter sealed with five seals, which on
his knees he presented to the King, saying, let this be read, and then
I will say for what I am come. Lisuarte saw that it was a letter of
credence, and bade him speak his errand. Then said the Knight, King, I
defy thee on the part of Famongomadan, the Giant of the Boiling Lake;
Cartadaque, his nephew, Giant of the Defended Mountain; and Madanfabul,
his marriage-brother, the Giant of the Vermillion Tower; and for
Quadragante, brother of King Abies, and Arcalaus the Enchanter: they
tell thee that thy death, and the death of all who call themselves
thine is in their hands, for they are coming against thee on King
Cildadan's side. Howbeit, if thou wilt give thy daughter Oriana to
Madasima, the fair daughter of Famongomadan, to be her damsel and
servant, they will not injure thee, nor be thine enemies, but will
give her in marriage when it is time to Basagante, Madasima's brother,
who doth well deserve to be Lord of her and thy land. Therefore, King,
look to thy choice! such peace, or such war! Lisuarte smiled when he
began to reply, as one who set at nought the defiance. Knight, said
he, better is a dangerous war, than a dishonourable peace: a bad
account should I render to Him, who hath placed me in this high rank,
if for lack of heart I should so shamefully debase it! Tell them I
would rather chuse war with them all the days of my life, and death in
that war at last, than consent to the peace they offer! Tell me where
I may send a Knight to carry them this answer? They may be found,
replied the Embassador, in the Boiling Lake, which is in the Isle of
Mongaza. I know not the manner of these Giants, quoth Lisuarte, whether
a Knight can go amongst them safely? That, replied he, doubt not;
where Don Quadragante is present, no wrong can be committed: I will
be his warrant. In God's name! said Lisuarte, now tell me who you
are?—Landin, the son of Quadragante's sister. We are come to revenge
the death of King Abies of Ireland, and greatly it grieves us that we
cannot find him who slew him, neither know we whether he be alive or
dead. Quoth Lisuarte, I would you did know him to be alive and well!
all would then be right. I know wherefore you say thus, replied Landin;
you think him the best Knight living, but, be I what I may, you shall
find me in the battle with King Cildadan, and see what I can do against
you. I had rather have you in my service, answered Lisuarte; but there
will not be wanting those who will oppose you there.
Meantime Florestan's anger was rising. Knight, said he, I am a stranger
in this country, and not vassal to the King, so that there is no
quarrel between us for what you have said to him, nor do I undertake
it because there are many Knights in his household. But, you say, you
seek for Amadis, and cannot find him; that I believe is not to your
loss! but if it please you to do battle with me, who am Don Florestan,
his brother, let it be with this condition: if you are conquered, you
shall give over the pursuit of vengeance; if I am slain, your wrath
will in part be satisfied, for whatever sorrow you feel for the loss
of King Abies, that and much greater would Amadis endure for my death.
Landin replied, Don Florestan I perceive you have a heart for battle,
but I cannot satisfy you now, being bound to return with this embassy
on an appointed day, and also having pledged myself to undertake no
enterprize before the battle; but, if I come from that field alive, I
will meet you in the lists. Landin, quoth Florestan, you answer like a
good and honourable Knight, as you are bound to do; let it be as you
have said. And he gave his gloves in gage to the King, and Landin gave
the lappets of his armour; and the day for their combat was fixed for
the thirtieth after the battle. Lisuarte then sent a Knight called
Filispinel with Landin to carry his reply, and they departed together.
When they were gone, the King said to Galaor, and Florestan, and their
cousin Agrayes, you shall see something that will please you! and
he sent for his daughter Leonoreta to come with her little damsels
and dance before him, as she used to do; a thing which he had never
ordered, since the news that Amadis was lost. She came, and the King
said to her, Daughter, sing now the song which Amadis, being your
Knight, made for your love. So the child and the other young damsels
began to sing.
_Leonor, sweet Rose, all other flowers excelling,
For thee I feel strange thoughts in me rebelling._
_I lost my liberty when I did gaze
Upon those lights which set me in a maze,
And of one free am now become a thrall,
Put to such pain thou serv'st thy friends withal;
And yet do I esteem this pain a pleasure,
Endured for thee whom I love out of measure.
Leonor, sweet Rose, all other flowers excelling,
For thee I feel strange thoughts in me rebelling._
_I little joy in any other's sight,
My heart is thine, thyself my chief delight.
But yet I see the more that I do love,
More smart I feel, more pain, more grief I prove.
Well! let Love rage, though he be angry ever,
I'll take my loss for gain, though I gain never.
Leonor, sweet Rose, all other flowers excelling,
For thee I feel strange thoughts in me rebelling._
_And though to you I manifest my woes,
My martyrdom, my smart, another knows;
One unto whom I secretly invoke,
Who is the cause of this my fire, my smoke.
She hath a salve to cure my endless grief,
And only she may yield me some relief.
Leonor, sweet Rose, all other flowers excelling,
For thee I feel strange thoughts in me[188:A] rebelling._
[188:A] The song of Amadis has suffered much in this second
translation, this "shadow of a shade."
VILLANCICO.
Leonoreta, fin roseta,
blanca sobre toda flor,
fin roseta, no me meta
en tal cuyta vuestro amor.
Sin ventura yo en locura
me meti;
en vos amar es locura
que me dura, ⁂
sin me poder apartar,
o hermosura sin par,
que me da pena y dulzor,
fin roseta, no me meta
en tal cuyta vuestro amor. ⁂
De todas las que yo veo
no desseo
servir otra sino a vos;
bien veo que mi desseo ⁂
es devaneo,
do no me puedo partir,
pues que no puedo huyr
de ser vuestro servidor,
no me meta, fin roseta
en tal cuyta vuestro amor. ⁂
Aunque mi quexa parece
referirse a vos senora,
otra es la vencedora,
otra es la matadora, ⁂
que mi vida desfallece,
aquesta tiene el poder
de me hazer toda guerra;
aquesta puede hazer,
sin yo selo merecer,
Que muerto biva so tierra. ⁂
You should know by what occasion Amadis made this song for the Princess
Leonoreta. One day, as he was talking with Queen Brisena, Oriana,
Mabilia, and Olinda, told Leonoreta to go and ask Amadis to be her
Knight, and that he would then serve her and no one else. The little
girl went to him, and did so; and Amadis, smiling, took her in his
arms, and placed her on the estrado. Since you would have me be your
Knight, said he, give me some jewel in token that you hold me for
yours; and then she took from her head a gold clasp set with gems,
and gave it him. All began to laugh at seeing how verily she believed
the jest, and Amadis, being thus chosen her Knight, made for her this
song. And when she and her damsels sung it they were dressed alike,
having garlands on their heads, and garments of the same costliness and
fashion as Leonoreta wore. She was a fair princess, albeit not so fair
as Oriana, who had no peer, and afterwards she became Empress of Rome,
and her twelve little damsels were all daughters of Counts and noble
chiefs. So having sung their song, they knelt before Lisuarte, and then
returned to the Queen.
Galaor and Florestan and Agrayes then asked the King permission to
guard Corisanda home. He took them aside and said, Friends! there are
no other three in the world in whom I have the same confidence as in
you. This battle is to be the first week in August, and you hear who
are coming against me, and they will bring others with them, who are
brave and terrible in arms, and are also of the nature and blood of
the Giants: therefore, I request you not to undertake any adventure
that may delay you from being there to aid me, for with your aid, and
the justice of my cause, I trust in God, my enemies, powerful as they
are, will be put to shame. Sir, said they, this command was not needed:
as Errant Knights, our wish is to be in danger, to be where, being
conquerors, we may win the renown which we seek; or, if conquered, come
to the end for which we were all born: we will presently return. So
they took their leave, and departed with Corisanda.
Gandalin, who saw them depart, went to Miraflores, and related to
Oriana and Mabilia all that had past. Now, quoth Oriana, is Corisanda
in all happiness, for she hath with her Don Florestan, whom she loves.
God ever continue her joy! for she is a good Lady. And then she herself
began to weep, and cry, Lord God, let me see Amadis again, if it be
but for a day!—Gandalin greatly pitied her, but he affected anger,
and said, Lady, you will make me stay away from Miraflores, for here
are we looking for good tidings, and you will make us thus unhappy!
Oriana wiped away her tears: Do not reproach me, Gandalin! I would do
otherwise if I could; but, whatever semblance I should put on, my heart
is always weeping! But tell me, what will become of the King my father,
since Amadis will not be in the battle? He cannot so have hidden
himself, replied Gandalin, that such news should not reach him; and
though you have forbidden him your sight, yet he may be present there,
thinking then to merit pardon for a fault which he never committed, nor
thought to commit. While they were thus communing, a little girl came
running in, Lady, here is the Damsel of Denmark, and she brings noble
presents for you! At this her heart trembled, and sunk within her, so
that she could not speak, and she was altogether so agitated as one
who expected life or death from the messenger who was coming. Mabilia
answered for her: tell the Damsel to come to us alone, that we may
speak with her in private. This she said that there might be none to
witness Oriana's agitation; but she herself and Gandalin were dismayed,
not knowing what was to come. The Damsel entered with a chearful
countenance, and kneeling before Oriana gave her a letter; here, Lady,
are tidings of joy! I have fulfilled all your commands: read, and see
if Amadis have not written it with his own hand. The letter fell from
Oriana's hand, she trembled so with exceeding joy: she opened it, and
found in it the ring which she had sent by Gandalin to Amadis, the day
whereon he fought with Dardan at Windsor, the which she knew well and
kissed it many times, and said, blessed be the hour in which thou wert
made, that art transferred with such joy from one hand to another!
So when she had read the letter, and blest God with lifted hands for
his mercy, she made the Damsel relate how she had found him. Greatly
were they pleased at her wisdom in leaving a part of the presents with
Amadis; now then, said they, produce the rest before those who are
here, and say how you have forgotten the others, that we may send for
them.
They showed Durin to what part of the garden-wall he was to bring
Amadis, and he kissed Oriana's hands for sending him upon this errand,
which might atone for what unwittingly he had carried before. It was
agreed that Mabilia should publicly ask him to go; but he feigned
himself little contented at the bidding, and said, angrily, to Mabilia,
for you, Lady, I will go, but not for the Queen or Oriana, for I have
had great hardships in this journey for their pleasure. Friend Durin,
said Oriana, you should not upbraid us with your services, so that we
shall not thank you for it. Your thanks, replied he, I believe will be
worth about as much as my service! however, said he to Mabilia, since
you desire it, I will set out to-morrow. He then took leave, and went
with Gandalin to the town to sleep; and Gandalin bade him remember
him to his cousin Enil, and tell him, said he, to come and see me as
soon as he can, for I have much to say to him, and request him while he
continues with that Knight, to see if he can learn any news of Amadis.
This he said that Amadis might be the better disguised, and that he
might not want a pretext to send Enil away. So Durin mounted his
palfrey the next morning and departed.
_CHAPTER 13._
While Beltenebros remained in the Nunnery, his health and strength
recovered, and he sent Enil to the next town to get arms made for him,
a green shield with as many golden lions as it could hold, and to buy
him a horse, and a sword and breast-plate, the best he could find. In
twenty days all was ready, as he had ordered it, and at the end of that
time Durin arrived. Beltenebros was right glad to see him, and asked
him before Enil how the Damsel was, and wherefore he had returned.
Durin answered, that the Damsel commended herself to him, and had sent
for two jewels which she had left in her bed; and then he delivered
to Enil the bidding of his cousin Gandalin. Who is Gandalin? said
Beltenebros. A Squire, my cousin, replied Enil, who long time served
a Knight called Amadis of Gaul. Then Beltenebros took Durin apart to
walk with him, and heard the message of Oriana, and also how his
brethren were to be in the battle with Cildadan, and of the defiance
that Famongomadan had sent, and how he had demanded Oriana to be
serving-damsel to his daughter, till he should give her in marriage to
his son. When he heard this, his flesh shook with exceeding anger, and
he resolved in himself, so soon as he had seen his Lady, to undertake
no adventure till he had found Famongomadan, and fought with him a
combat to the utterance for what he had dared propose.
That night Beltenebros took leave of the Nuns, and early the next day,
armed in his green armour, he set forth, and Enil with him carrying his
shield and helmet and lance. The day was clear, and he feeling himself
in his strength and once more in arms, began to manage his horse so
skilfully that Enil said to him, I know not, Sir, what the strength of
your heart may be, but I never saw a Knight appear so well in arms.
The worth, quoth Beltenebros, lies in a good heart, not in a good
appearance! happy dole hath he whom God has gifted with both! You have
judged the one, judge the other as you shall see it deserves when put
to proof. Seven days they travelled without adventure, and Beltenebros,
as he drew nearer, wore his helmet that he might not be known. On the
eighth, as they were passing the foot of a mountain, they met a Knight
upon a large bay horse, so huge in stature that he appeared to be a
Giant, and two Squires carrying his arms. He cried out with a loud
voice to Beltenebros, Stop, Sir Knight, till you have told me what I
want to know! Beltenebros looked at the stranger's shield, and seeing
three golden flowers in a field azure, he knew it was Don Quadragante,
for he had seen a like shield in the Firm Island, hanging above all the
others, as his who had approached nearest the Forbidden Chamber. Yet,
remembering Famongomadan, he would willingly now have avoided battle;
as also, because he was on his way to Oriana, and feared lest the great
prowess of this Knight should cause him some delay. Howbeit he stopt,
and bade Enil give him his arms if they were wanted. God protect you!
quoth Enil, he looks to me more like a Devil than a Knight! He is no
Devil, quoth Beltenebros, but a right good Knight, of whom I have heard
heretofore. By this Quadragante was come up, and said to him, Knight,
you must tell me if you belong to the household of King Lisuarte?—Why
ask you?—Because I have defied him and all his household, and kill all
of them whom I meet. Beltenebros felt his anger rising, and replied,
you are one of those who have defied him?—I am; and I am he who will
do to him and his all the evil in my power.—And who are you?—My name
is Don Quadragante.—Certes, Don Quadragante, notwithstanding your high
lineage, and your great prowess in arms, this is great folly in you to
defy the best King in the world! they who undertake more than they can
effect, are rather rash than hardy. I am not this King's vassal, nor am
I of his land, but for his goodness my heart is disposed to serve him,
so that I may account myself among those whom you have defied: if you
chuse battle with me, you may have it; if not, go your way! I believe
Knight, said Quadragante, you speak thus boldly because you know me so
little: pray you, tell me your name?—They call me Beltenebros: you will
know me by it no better than before, for it is a name of no renown;
but, though I am of a far land, I have heard that you are seeking
Amadis of Gaul, and, by what I hear of him, it is no loss to you that
you cannot find him. What! quoth Quadragante, do you prize him, whom I
hate so much, above me? Know, that your death-hour is arrived! take thy
arms, and defend thyself if thou canst. I might do it with some doubt
against others, he replied, but can have none in opposing thee, who art
so full of pride and threats.
Then they ran their course; both felt the shock; the horse of
Beltenebros reeled, and he himself was wounded at the nipple of his
breast. Quadragante was unhorsed and hurt in the ribs; he rose, and ran
at Beltenebros, who did not see him, for he was adjusting his helmet,
and he mortally stabbed his horse. Beltenebros alighted, and went
against him sword in hand in great anger. There was no courage in this!
cried he; your own horse was strong enough to have finished the battle
without this discourtesy! The blows fell as thick and loud as though
ten Knights had been in combat, for both put forth all their strength
and skill, and the fight lasted from the hour of tierce till vespers;
but then Quadragante, overcome with fatigue, and with a blow that
Beltenebros gave him on the helmet, fell down senseless. Beltenebros
took off his helmet to see if he were dead; the air revived him; he
placed the sword-point at his face, and said, Quadragante, remember thy
soul, for thou art a dead man. Ah, Beltenebros, cried he, for God's
sake let me live for my soul's sake!—Yield thyself vanquished, then,
and promise to fulfil what I command! I will fulfil your will to save
my life, said Quadragante, but there is no reason wherefore I should
confess myself vanquished: he is not vanquished, who in his defence
hath shown no fear, doing his utmost till strength and breath fail him
and he falls; but he who does not do what he could have done, for lack
of heart. You speak well, said Beltenebros, and I like much what I
have learnt from you: give me your hand and your promise then; and he
called the Squires to witness it. You shall go forthwith to the court
of King Lisuarte, and remain there till Amadis arrives, and then you
shall pardon him for the death of your brother, King Abies; for they by
their own will fought in lists together, and such revenge, even among
those of meaner degree, ought not to be pursued. Moreover, you shall
make null the defiance against King Lisuarte, and not take arms against
those who are in his service. All this did Quadragante promise against
his will, and in the fear of death. He then ordered his Squires to make
a litter, and remove him; and Beltenebros mounting the bay horse of his
antagonist, gave his arms to Enil, and departed.
Four Damsels, who were hawking with a merlin, had seen the battle, and
they now came up, and requested Beltenebros would go to their castle,
where he should be honourably welcomed, for the good will which he had
manifested to King Lisuarte. He thankfully accepted their hospitality,
being sore wearied with the struggle, and accompanied them. They
found no other wound than that upon the nipple of his breast, which
bled much; howbeit, in three days he departed. On the second day at
noon, from a hill top, he beheld the city of London, and, to the right
thereof, the castle of Miraflores, where his Lady Oriana then abode.
Here he stood awhile, gazing, and devising how he might dispatch Enil.
Do you know this country? said he. Yes, replied Enil; that is London,
in the valley.—Are we so near? but I will not go to the court till I
have won some renown, and deserve to be there: go you therefore and
visit your cousin Gandalin, and there you will hear what may be said of
me, and when the battle is to be with King Cildadan.—But shall I leave
you alone?—I sometimes go alone; but we will first appoint a place to
meet at. They proceeded a little way and saw three tents pitched by a
river side, the middle a rich one, and before it there were Knights
and Damsels sporting; and he saw five shields at the entrance of one
tent, and five at another, and ten armed Knights, therefore he turned
aside from the road that he might not joust with them. The Knights
called out to him to joust. Not now, said he, for you are many and
fresh, and I am alone and weary. I believe, said the one, you are
afraid you should lose your horse.—Why should I lose him?—Because he
would be won by the man who dismounted you: a likelier chance than that
you should win his. Since that is the case, said Beltenebros, I will
ride on and secure him while I can; and he continued his course. The
Knights cried after him, your arms, Sir Cavalier, are protected better
by a smooth tongue than by a stout heart: they will last to be hung
over your monument, tho' you should live these hundred years! Think of
me as you please, quoth he, your words will not destroy my worth such
as it is. I would to heaven you would break one lance with me! cried
the Knight; I would not mount horse again for a whole year, if you
rode to your lodging this night upon that bay steed! Good Sir, said
Beltenebros, that is the very thing I am afraid of, and have therefore
got out of the way. Holy Mary, they all exclaimed, what a cowardly
Knight! He nothing heeding them, rode on to a ford, at which he meant
to cross, when he heard a cry from behind. Stop, Knight! and looking
round saw a Damsel following him upon a palfrey richly trappinged. Sir
Knight, said she, Leonoreta, daughter to King Lisuarte, is in yonder
tent, and she and all her Damsels request that for their sake you will
joust with her Knights, a thing you will be more bound to do by this
request than by their defiance.—What! quoth he, is the daughter of the
Queen there?—Aye, truly!—I should rather do her service myself than
commit enmity against her Knights, but at her command I will consent,
on condition that they require from me nothing farther than the joust.
With this answer the Damsel returned; and Beltenebros took his arms,
and rode to an open part of the field to wait for the encounter. The
first who came was the one who had such an inclination to win his
horse. Beltenebros was pleased that this was the first: he unhorsed
him, and bade Enil take his horse, and said, Sir Knight, if you keep
your word, you will not have another fall for a whole year, for so
you promised unless you won my bay; but he lay groaning, for he had
three ribs and a hip broken. Three others shared the same fortune with
less hurt; on the last, Beltenebros broke his lance. Enil took their
horses one by one, and tied them to the trees, and then Beltenebros
would have departed; but he saw another Knight making ready, and a
Squire brought him four lances, and said, Sir, Leonoreta sends you
these lances, and bids you do your duty with them against the other
Knights, since you have overthrown their companions. For her sake, said
he, who is daughter to so good a King, I will do what she requires;
but for her Knights I would do nothing, for they are discourteous to
make Knights who are travelling joust against their will. So he took
a lance, and one after the other dismounted all the rest; only the
last endured two encounters, and fell not till the third, for he was
Nicoran of the Perilous Bridge, and was one of the good jousters in
Great Britain. When Beltenebros had finished, he sent all the horses
that he had won to Leonoreta, and bade her tell her Knights to be more
courteous to strangers, or else to joust better, for they might find
a Knight who would make them go afoot. The Knights remained greatly
abashed; if Amadis were alive and well, quoth Nicoran, verily I should
say this were he, for I know no other who would have left us thus. It
is not he, said Galiseo, some of us should have known him, and he would
not have jousted with us, being his friends. Giontes, the nephew of
King Lisuarte, who was one of them, replied. Would it were Amadis, our
dishonour would be well gained! but be he who he may, God prosper him
wherever he goes! for he won our horses like a good Knight, and like a
good Knight restored them. Curse him, quoth Lasamor, he has broken my
hip and my ribs, but it was my own fault.
Beltenebros went on satisfied with his success, and admiring the lance
which he held, for it was a good one. About a quarter of a league
on, he saw a chapel overbowered with trees, and there he determined
to alight for the sake of prayer, and because the great heat and the
exercise of jousting had made him athirst. At the chapel-door were
three palfreys equipped for women, and two for Squires. He went in,
but there was no one there, and commended himself from his heart to
God and the Virgin. As he was coming out, he saw the three Damsels and
their Squires sitting under the trees beside a fountain, and made up
to them that he might drink: but neither of them did he know. Knight,
said they, are you of King Lisuarte's household? I would, quoth he, I
were so good a Knight as to be approved in such a company: but whither
go ye?—To Miraflores, to see our Aunt who is Abbess there, and to see
Oriana the Princess; but we are waiting here till the heat of the day
be over. In God's name, quoth he, and I will keep you company till it
be time to travel: how is this fountain called?—We know not but there
is one in yonder valley, by those great trees there, which is called
the Fountain of the Three Channels. He knew it better than they, for
he had often passed it when hunting, and there he determined to fix a
meeting-place with Enil, whom he wished to send away while he went to
his Lady.
Presently, while they were thus talking, there came along the road
which Beltenebros had passed, a waggon drawn by twelve palfreys, and on
it were two Dwarfs who drove. There were many Knights in chains in the
waggon, and their shields were hanging at the side, and many damsels
and girls among them weeping and lamenting loudly. Before it went a
Giant, so great that he was fearful to behold; he rode a huge black
horse, and he was armed with plates of steel, and his helmet shone
bright, and in his hand he had a boar spear, whose point was a full
arm's-length long. Behind the waggon was another Giant, who appeared
more huge and terrible than the first. The Damsels seeing them were
greatly terrified, and hid themselves among the trees. Presently the
Giant who rode foremost turned to the Dwarfs, and cried, I will cut
you into a thousand pieces if you suffer these girls to shed their own
blood, for I mean to do sacrifice with it to my god, whom I adore.
When Beltenebros heard this, he knew it was Famongomadan, for he had a
custom to sacrifice damsels to an Idol in the Boiling Lake, by whose
advice and words he was guided in every thing, and that sacrifice used
to content his god, being the Wicked Enemy who is satisfied with such
wickedness. At this time Beltenebros did not wish to encounter him,
because he expected to be that night with Oriana, and also because his
joust with the ten Knights had wearied him; but he knew the Knights
in the waggon, and saw that Leonoreta and her Damsels were there, for
Famongomadan, who always took this waggon with him to carry away all
he could find, had seized them in their tents shortly after their
encounter. Immediately he mounted, and called to Enil for his arms; but
Enil said, let those Devils pass by first. Give me! quoth Beltenebros,
I shall try God's mercy before they pass, to see if I can redress this
villainy. O Sir, cried the Squire, why have you so little compassion
upon your own youth! if the best twenty Knights of King Lisuarte's
court were here, they would not venture to attack them. Care not
thou for that, replied his Master, if I let them pass without doing
my best I should be unworthy to appear among good men: you shall see
my fortune. Enil gave him his arms, weeping, and Beltenebros then
descended the sloping ground to meet them. He looked toward Miraflores
as he went, and said, O Oriana, my Lady, never did I attempt adventure
confiding in my own courage, but in you: my gentle Lady, assist me now,
in this great need! He felt his full strength now, and all fear was
gone, and he cried out to the Dwarfs to stop.
When the Giant heard him, he came towards him with such rage that smoke
came through the vizor of his helmet, and he shook his boar-spear with
such force that its ends almost met. Unhappy wretch! cried he, who
gave thee boldness enough to dare appear before me? That Lord, quoth
Beltenebros, whom thou hast offended, who will give me strength to-day
to break thy pride. Come on! come on! cried the Giant, and see if his
power can protect thee from mine! Beltenebros fitted the lance under
his arm, and ran against him full speed: he smote him below the waist
with such exceeding force that the spear burst through the plates of
steel and ran through him, even so as to strike the saddle behind,
that the girths broke, and he fell with the saddle, the broken lance
remaining in him. His boar-spear had taken effect upon the horse of
Beltenebros, and mortally wounded him. The Knight leapt off and drew
his sword. The Giant rose up so enraged that fire came from him, and
he plucked the lance from his wound, and threw it at Beltenebros so
forcibly that if the shield had not protected his helmet, it would
have driven him to the ground; but his own bowels came out with the
weapon, and he fell, crying, help, Basagante! I am slain. At this
Basagante came up as fast as his horse could carry him: he had a steel
axe in his hand, and with this he thought to have cut his enemy in
two; but Beltenebros avoided the blow, and at the same time struck at
the Giant's horse: the stroke fell short, but the end of his sword cut
through the stirrup-leather, and cut the leg also half through. The
Giant in his fury did not feel the wound, though he missed the stirrup;
he turned and raised his axe again. Beltenebros had taken the shield
from his neck, and was holding it by the thongs: the axe fell on it and
pierced in, and drove it from his hands to the ground. Beltenebros had
made another stroke, the sword wounded Basagante's arm, and, falling
below upon the plates of fine steel, broke, so that only the handle
remained in his hand. Not for this was he a whit dismayed; he saw the
Giant could not pluck his axe from the shield, and he ran and caught
it by the handle also; both struggled; it was on that side where the
stirrup had been cut away, so that Basagante lost his balance, the
horse started and he fell, and Beltenebros got the battle-axe. The
Giant drew his sword in great fury, and would have ran at the Knight,
but the nerves of his leg were cut through; he fell upon one knee,
and Beltenebros smote him on the helmet, that the laces burst and it
fell off. He seeing his enemy so near, thought with his sword, which
was very long, to smite off his head; the blow was aimed too high,
it cut off the whole crown of the helmet, and cut away the hair with
it. Beltenebros drew back; the helmet fell over his head upon his
shoulders, and Leonoreta and the Damsels, who were on their knees in
the waggon praying to God to deliver them, tore their hair and began
to shriek and call upon the Virgin, thinking he was surely slain.
He himself put up his hand to feel if he were wounded to death, but
feeling no harm, made again at the Giant, whose sword falling upon a
stone in the last blow had broken. Basagante's heart failed him now, he
made one stroke more, and cut him slightly in the leg with the broken
sword; but Beltenebros let drive the battle-axe at his head; it cut
away the ear and the cheek and the jaw, and Basagante fell, writhing in
the agony of death.
At this time Famongomadan had taken off his helmet, and was holding his
hands upon his wound to check the blood. When he saw his son slain,
he began to blaspheme God and his Mother Holy Mary, saying that he did
not so much grieve to die as that he could destroy their monasteries
and churches, because they had suffered him and his son to be conquered
by one Knight. Beltenebros was then upon his knees returning thanks
to God, when he heard the blasphemer, he exclaimed, Accursed of God
and of his Blessed Mother! now shalt thou suffer for thy cruelties;
pray to thine Idol, that, as thou hast shed so much blood before him,
he may stop this blood of thine from flowing out with thy life! The
Giant continued to curse God and his Saints; then Beltenebros plucked
the boar-spear from the horse's body, and thrust it into the mouth
of Famongomadan, and nailed him backward to the earth. He then put
on Basagante's helmet that he might not be known, and mounting the
other's horse, rode up to the waggon and broke the chains of all who
were prisoners therein, and he besought them to carry the bodies of the
Giants to King Lisuarte, and say they were sent him by a strange Knight
called Beltenebros; and he begged the Princess to permit him to take
the black horse of Famongomadan, because it was a strong and handsome
horse, and he would ride him in the battle against King Cildadan. The
bodies of the Giants were so huge, that they were obliged to bend
their knees to lay them in the waggon. Leonoreta and her Damsels made
garlands for their heads, and being right joyful for their deliverance
entered London singing in triumph. Much was King Lisuarte astonished
at their adventure, and the more for Quadragante had already presented
himself on the part of Beltenebros, of whom nothing else was known
except what Corisanda had related. I would he were among us, said the
King, I would not lose him for any thing that he could ask and I could
grant.
_CHAPTER 14._
Beltenebros having taken leave of the Princess, returned joyfully to
the fountain where the Damsels were. He bade Enil go to London, and
get him other arms made the same as those he wore, which were now so
battered as to be useless, and he was to buy him another sword, and
bring them in eight days to the Fountain of the Three Channels. Enil
forthwith departed, and the Damsels also taking their leave, rode on
to Miraflores, and there told Oriana and Mabilia what great feats they
had seen that day atchieved by a Knight called Beltenebros. He meantime
struck into the forest, and rode slowly the same way, till he came to
a brook winding among the trees, and there, for it was yet early, he
alighted and took off his helmet, and drank of the water, and cleansed
himself from the sweat of the battle; and there he remained, musing
over his past and present fortunes and the strange vicissitudes of
life, till night approached; then he made for the castle. Durin and
Gandalin met him at the garden-wall, and took his horse. Oriana and
Mabilia and the Damsel were on the wall: they gave him their hands:
presently he was over, and held Oriana in his arms; but who can tell
what joy there then was in embracing and kisses, and the mingling of
tears? Mabilia roused them as from a dream, and led them into the
castle, and there Beltenebros remained eight days with Oriana in joys
dearer to him than even Paradise.
Meantime King Lisuarte was preparing for the battle against King
Cildadan, which he much doubted, knowing what Giants and mighty
Knights would be with his enemy. Florestan and Galaor and Agrayes
were returned, and Don Galvanes Lackland had arrived, and many other
good Knights. The whole talk was of Beltenebros, and many said his
deeds surpassed those of Amadis; whereat Galaor and Florestan were
so enraged, that nothing but their promise to undertake no adventure
before the battle, withheld them from seeking him and proving him in
mortal combat, but of this they only communed with each other. One day
there came into the palace an old Squire with two others, all clad in
garments of the same cloth. The old man's beard was shorn, his ears
were large, and the hair of his head grey. He, kneeling before the
King, addressed him in the Greek language: Sir, the great fame which
is gone abroad of the Knights and Dames and Damsels of your court hath
brought me hither, to see if I can find among them what for sixty years
I have sought through all parts of the world, and reaped no fruit for
my labour. Noble King, if you hold it good, permit that a trial may be
made here, which shall not be to your injury nor to the shame of any.
All who were present, desirous to see what it might be, besought the
King's assent, which he, feeling the like curiosity, readily granted.
The old Squire then took in his hand a coffer of jasper, three cubits
long and a span wide, its sides being fastened with plates of gold;
this he opened, and took out a sword, so strange as the like was never
seen; the sheath was of bone, yet green like an emerald, and so clear
that the blade of the sword could be seen through, and it was unlike
other blades, for the one-half was as bright as it could be, and the
other burning red like fire; the hilt was of the same green bone, and
the belt also, being made of such small pieces fastened together with
gold screws, that it could be girt on like a common belt. This the
Squire hung round his neck, and took from the same coffer a head-dress
of flowers, the half whereof were as beautiful and fresh as though
they had just then been cut from the living stem; the other half so
withered and dry, that it seemed they would crumble at a touch. The
King asked why those flowers, that all seemed to grow from the same
stem, were yet in such different condition, and what was the nature of
that strange sword? King, said the old Squire, this sword cannot be
drawn from the scabbard, except by the Knight who of all men in the
world loveth his Lady best; and as soon as he shall have it in his
hand, the half which is now of burning red, shall become clear and
bright like the other part, and the whole blade be of one colour; and
when this garland of flowers shall be set upon the head of that Lady
or Damsel, that with the same surpassing love doth love her husband or
friend, the dry flowers shall again become fresh and green. And know,
Sir, that I cannot be knighted except by the hands of that true lover,
nor take sword except from that loyal Lady; for this, O King, having
searched all other courts and parts of the world, I am come hither,
after sixty years, hoping that as there is no court of Emperor or King
like this, here I may succeed at last. Tell me, said Lisuarte, how is
it that the half which is burning red, does not burn the scabbard?
You shall hear, quoth the Squire: Between Tartary and India there is
a sea so hot, that it boils like water over a fire, and it is all
green; and in that sea serpents breed bigger than crocodiles, having
wings wherewith they fly, and so venomous that all people run from
them in fear; nevertheless, they who at any time find one dead esteem
it much, being a thing excellent in medicine. These serpents have one
bone reaching from the head to the tail, it is so strong that the whole
body is formed upon this one bone, and green as you see it here in this
scabbard and hilt and belt, and because it grew in that boiling sea no
fire can burn it. Now I will tell you of this garland: the flowers are
from trees in Tartary, in an island fifteen miles from the shore; the
trees are only two, nor is it known that there are any such in any part
elsewhere; but in that sea is a whirlpool, so terrible that men fear to
venture to take them, howbeit they that have dared pass and succeeded,
sell them for what they will to ask, for this freshness and life-green
never fails. Having told you thus much, you shall know who I myself am.
I am nephew of the best man of his own time, who was called Apolidon,
and who long time dwelt here in your country in the Firm Island. My
father was King Ganor, his brother, to whom he gave his kingdom, and
my mother, daughter to the King of Panonia, and, when I was of age to
be knighted, my father, because of the exceeding love between him and
my mother, made me promise to be made Knight by none but the most true
Lover in the world, and to receive sword only from the truest Lady.
I lightly promised, thinking to accomplish this as soon as I should
see my Uncle Apolidon and his Grimanesa; but so it was, that, when I
arrived, Grimanesa was dead, and he knowing wherefore I came, greatly
pitied me, for it is the custom of my land that no one who is not a
Knight can reign therein. So having no remedy to give me then, he bade
me return to him at a year's end, and at that time he gave me this
sword and garland, telling me by the labour of this search to remedy
the folly of such a promise. And now, Sir, I beseech you, as without
wrong or shame it may be done, that you and your Knights and the Queen
and her Ladies be pleased to make the proof; and if such can be found
as shall accomplish it, let the sword and garland be theirs, the profit
will be mine, and rest from my weary toil, and the honour yours above
all other Princes, that they who could accomplish this adventure were
found in your court. The King then said, that Santiago's day was but
five days off, and then he had summoned many Knights to be present,
wherefore if it pleased him to wait so long, his chance of success
would be greater among so many more Knights. This the Squire thought
good.
Gandalin was at this time in the court, and heard all that the Squire
had said. Forthwith he rode to Miraflores. Beltenebros and Oriana
were playing chess in the little court under the trees. When he had
related all that had past, and how a day was appointed for the trial,
Beltenebros sate musing for a while, lost in thought, till Gandalin
and his cousin had left the place, and then, as he looked up, Oriana
asked what had made him so deep in thought. Lady mine, quoth he, if by
God's help and your's my thought could be accomplished, I should be a
happy man for ever. Dear friend, she answered, she who hath made you
master of her person will do for you any thing! He took her hands and
kissed them often, and said, this is what I have been thinking; that,
if you and I could win this sword and garland, our hearts would be for
ever at rest, and all those doubts that have tortured us be utterly
destroyed. But how can I do this, said Oriana, without great shame
and greater danger to myself and to these Damsels, who are privy to
our loves? That, replied Beltenebros, may easily be done, you shall
go so disguised, and I will obtain such security from the King your
father, that we shall be as unknown as before strangers. Then do your
pleasure, quoth she, and God prosper it to good! I doubt not to gain
the garland, if it is to be won by exceeding love. I will obtain your
father's promise, said Beltenebros, that nothing shall be demanded
from me against my own consent, and will go completely armed; and you,
Lady, shall have a cloak fastened round you, and your face muffled,
so that you shall see all, yet no one see you. Let us call Mabilia,
cried Oriana, without her counsel I must not adventure. So they called
her and Gandalin, and the Damsel of Denmark, and they, albeit they
saw great peril, did not gainsay their inclination; and Mabilia said,
there was a rich cloak among her mother's presents that the Damsel had
brought, which never had been worn or seen in that land. She brought
it, and took Oriana apart and dressed her in it, so that when she came
out with her gloves on, and her face-cloths,[220:A] no one knew her,
though they looked narrowly. Lady mine, cried Beltenebros, I never
thought it would give me pleasure not to see and know you! He then
bade Gandalin buy the fairest palfrey that could be found in all that
country, and bring it at midnight before the day of the adventure, to
the garden-wall; and he told Durin to have his horse ready for him this
evening, that he might meet Enil, and send him to obtain the security
from King Lisuarte.
[220:A] Antifazes.
Beltenebros rode that night through the forest, and at day-break
reached the fountain of the Three Channels. Presently Enil came up and
brought with him the arms: they were good arms, and pleased him well.
He then asked the Squire what news of the court, and Enil told him the
talk there was of his prowess, and was about to relate concerning the
sword and garland, but Beltenebros said, this I learnt three days since
from a Damsel who made me promise to carry her secretly to this proof:
this I must do, and will prove the sword myself; but, as you know it is
my will not to make myself known to the King nor to any other till my
deeds make me worthy, you must return directly and tell the King, that
if he will promise and secure us that nothing shall be said or done
to us against our pleasure, we will come and try the adventure; and
say you, before the Queen and her Ladies, that this Damsel makes me go
greatly against my inclination. On the day of the proof, meet me here
at dawn, that the Damsel may know if she has this security; meantime I
must return to bring her here, for she dwells far off. Beltenebros then
took his arms, and while Enil went to the city, lay down by the same
brook-side till night, then rode to Miraflores. Durin was ready to take
his horse, and his fair friends expected him at the garden-wall. What,
Sir Cousin! quoth Mabilia, seeing his arms, you return richer than you
went. Do you not understand it? cried Oriana, he went to get arms, that
he might free himself from this prison. Thus chearfully they entered
the castle, and they gave him food, for he had not eaten the whole day,
lest he might be seen.
_CHAPTER 15._
The next day the Damsel of Denmark was sent to London to learn what
answer Enil obtained, and to tell the Queen and her Ladies that Oriana
was ill, and did not rise. It was late before she returned, because the
King had gone forth to meet Queen Briolania, who was come to his court,
and brought with her three hundred Knights to go in search of Amadis,
as his brothers might dispose of them. Twenty Damsels accompanied her,
all dressed in mourning like herself, for in that dress had he found
her, and that dress had she worn when he recovered for her her kingdom,
and that she would wear till some tidings of him were known. Is she
so handsome as they say? quoth Oriana. So save me God, Lady, replied
the Damsel, as excepting yourself, I think her the fairest and most
graceful woman that I have ever seen. And it grieved her much when she
heard of your malady, and she bade me say, when it pleased you, she
would come and see you. I should be much pleased, answered Oriana,
for she is the person in the world whom I most wish to see. Honour
her well, said Beltenebros, for she well deserves it, although, Lady,
you have suspected something.—Dear friend, no more of this, I know my
thoughts were false. But this trial, quoth he, will make you more free
from this, and me more subject.—The garland, said Oriana, will prove
whether my error proceeded from excess of love. The Damsel then told
them how the King had promised Enil the security which he required.
They rose at midnight before the day of the proof. Oriana was wrapt
in Mabilia's mantle, and her face muffled, and Beltenebros armed
himself in his new arms. They crossed the wall; Gandalin was there
with the horse and palfrey: they mounted, and rode alone into the
forest. Mabilia and the Damsel of Denmark remained in great fear
lest ill should befal; but, when Oriana found herself in the midst
of the forest at night, she was so affrighted that her whole body
trembled and her speech failed, and she began to apprehend that she
might fail to accomplish the adventure, and that if so her lover, who
now trusted in her so fully, would suspect her truth, and then she
wished she had never undertaken the danger. When Beltenebros perceived
her agitation, he said, I would rather have died, Lady, than brought
you here, if I had thought you would have been so terrified; we had
better turn back, and he turned his horse and led her palfrey round.
But then Oriana's heart changed, seeing that so great an adventure
would be for her sake foregone, and she said, dear friend do not heed
my fears, for I am a woman, and this is a strange place to me; regard
only what you, as a good Knight, ought to atchieve. Dear Lady, mine,
quoth he, your prudence guides my folly: I can neither do or say other
than you command me: so they proceeded, and about an hour before the
dawn reached the Fountain. When it was broad day Enil came up. Lady
Damsel, said Beltenebros, this is the Squire of whom I spake, let us
hear if the King grant your demand. Enil then told them what Lisuarte
had promised, and that the proof was to begin immediately after mass.
Beltenebros then gave him his shield and spear, the helmet he wore
himself; they took the road to London, and in this guise entered the
gate. All flocked to see them crying out, this is the good Knight
Beltenebros, who sent here Don Quadragante and the giants! This is the
prime of all knighthood! Happy the Damsel who comes in his guard! When
Oriana heard this she felt a pride to know herself the mistress of him,
who, by his great valour, could command all others. Thus they reached
the palace, where the King and all his Knights, the Queen and her
Ladies, were assembled for the adventure. As soon as their approach was
known the King went to receive them at the entrance. They knelt to kiss
his hand, but he withdrew it, saying, Good friend, I shall willingly
observe your pleasure, for in a short time you have done more for me
than ever Knight did for King before. Beltenebros bowed thankfully,
but made no answer, and proceeded with his Damsel up to the Queen: But
Oriana's flesh quivered with fear, seeing she was before her parents,
but her true friend never let go her hand, and so they both knelt
before Brisena. The Queen raised them and said, Damsel, I know not who
you are, never having seen you; but for the great services which this
Knight hath performed, and for your own deserts also, you are both
honourably and deservedly welcome. Beltenebros thanked her, but Oriana
held down her head as if for humbleness, and made no answer. The King
and his Knights then went on one side of the hall, the Queen and her
Ladies to the other; but Beltenebros said, that if it pleased the King
he would stand apart with his Damsel, and prove the adventure last of
all.
Lisuarte then took the sword and drew it a hands breadth, no more.
Macandon, the old Squire, said, King, if there be no better lover in
the Court than you, I shall depart without my wish, and he thrust
the sword back, for so it was to be at every trial; then Galaor
essayed, and could only draw it three fingers breadth. Florestan and
Galvanes, and Grumedan, and Brandoyuas, and Ladasin, all tried, none
so successfully as Florestan, who drew it at a full palm's length.
Don Guilan the Pensive was the next, and he drew it half out; had you
loved just as much again, said Macandon, you would have won the sword.
Others there were who tried and could not move it, and these the old
Squire called heretics in love. Then came Agrayes to the proof, he
looked at Olinda, and thought surely the sword would be his, for his
true and loyal love; he drew it within a hand of the point, and as he
still attempted to pluck it forth the burning part of the blade touched
his cloak and burnt it; then he retired sufficiently rejoiced that he
had so far exceeded all others. Almost Sir Knight, quoth old Macandon,
had you been the winner, and I satisfied. Palomir and Dragonis, who
had arrived the day before, next essayed, and drew it no farther than
Galaor. Knights, quoth the Squire, if you had only as much of the
sword as you can draw, you would have but little for your own defence.
True, said Dragonis; and if you should be knighted at the end of the
adventure, you are not so young but that you may remember the ceremony.
At this all laughed, but there remained no more to make the trial;
Beltenebros then arose and took his Lady by the hand, and went towards
the sword. Sir Stranger, quoth Macandon, this sword will become you
better than the one you wear, yet I would not have you be so sure of
it as to lay aside your own, for this is to be won by truth of heart,
and not by force of arms. But he took the sword, and drew it from the
scabbard, and immediately the whole blade became clear and shining
with one brightness. When Macandon saw this, he knelt down and said, O
good Knight, God give thee honour, for thou hast done great honour to
this court! Reason is it that you should be beloved well by your Lady
unless she be the falsest and most unreasonable of women. Now then give
me the honour of Knighthood, which I may receive from no other hand
but yours! and you will give me with it lands and the lordship over
many good men. Good friend, replied Beltenebros, let the proof of the
garland be made, then I will do with you what can rightly be done. And
then he blessed the sword, and laying his own aside, hung it round his
neck, and led his Lady back to her station. Great were the praises then
which he received for excellence in arms and in love, so that Galaor
and Florestan were moved to great anger, for they thought it shame that
any other than Amadis should be esteemed above them, and they resolved
within themselves that their first business after the battle with King
Cildadan should be to fight him, and either die or show to the world
the difference there was between him and their brother.
Lisuarte now called upon the Queen and her Ladies to make their proof,
without fear, and in the hope of honour; for she who won the garland,
if Dame should be more loved and honoured by her husband, if Damsel
acquire the praise of loyalty above all. Brisena first placed the
flowers on her own head, they did not in the least alter. Queen and
Madam, quoth old Macandon, if the King your husband gained little by
attempting the sword, it seems you have well requited him; she answered
nothing, but drew back greatly abashed. Next was Briolania, that fair
Queen of Sobradisa; she, like Brisena, produced no change. Lady and
most fair Damsel, cried the Squire, you must be loved before you can
love so as to gain the garland; four other King's daughters came on,
Eluida and Estrelleta her sister, who was fair and proud, and Aldeva
and Olinda the gentle. Upon her head the flowers began to revive so
that all thought she would win the praise, but they only began, and
when the garland was taken off they withered again as before; more than
a hundred other Dames tried, but all with less success than Olinda,
and all received their jest from the old Squire. Oriana had felt a
fear when Briolania made the proof, and she rejoiced at the failure,
lest, had she succeeded, her friend might deem it was for his love,
for never had she seen so fair a Damsel, and she thought surely, that
if his heart were not won by her, there was no danger of a rival. All
others had now failed; she made sign to Beltenebros to lead her up,
the garland was placed round her head, and immediately the dry flowers
quickened with full freshness and verdure. Excellent Damsel, quoth
Macandon, you are she for whom I sought forty years before you were
born!
Then the old Squire besought Beltenebros to knight him, and that
Damsel to give him a sword. Let it be presently, said Beltenebros, for
I cannot tarry. Macandon then put on white garments, and white armour
over it like a new Knight, and Beltenebros knighted him according to
the manner, and put on his right spur, and Oriana girded on a rich
sword which his Squires had brought. The Dames and Damsels laughed at
seeing him, and Aldeva said so loud that all heard her. What a fair
Child! and he will be a new Knight as long as he lives! How know you
that? cried the rest. She answered, because the dress he has now put
on will last as long as himself. Gentle Damsels, quoth the old man, I
would not exchange my pleasure for your manners; my youth may be ranked
with your modesty. The King was pleased at this reply, for he thought
their speeches were unseemly.
This done, Beltenebros and his Lady took leave of the Queen; and
Brisena said to her daughter, Lady, though it is your pleasure not to
be known here, yet I beseech you, when you are returned home, ask of me
whatever favour I can grant. I know her Lady, quoth Beltenebros, just
as much as you do, though we have been seven days together; but this
I can say, that she is fair, and she has locks that need not be thus
concealed. Damsel, said Briolania, I know you not: but if your friend
love you as you love him, and as he will do if he be wise, love never
made a better union. Her words gave pleasure to Oriana; then they took
their leave, and mounted, the King and Don Galaor accompanying them;
and Beltenebros said to the King, take this Damsel and honour her, Sir,
for she well deserves it, having honoured your court. Lisuarte took her
bridle, and he went on talking with Galaor, who had little inclination
for friendly talk with him, longing to engage him in battle. When they
had gone a little way Beltenebros took the bridle from the King, and
said, Now, Sir, God be with you, and if it please you that I should
be one of your hundred in the battle, I shall willingly serve you.
The King embraced and thanked him, and said, that great part of his
fear was removed by having him on his part; they parted then, and
Beltenebros and his Lady, Enil following, entered the forest, he having
round his neck that green sword, and she that garland of flowers upon
her head.
When they reached the fountain of the Three Channels, they saw a Squire
on horseback coming down the mountain, who said, Knight, Arcalaus the
Enchanter bids you send him that Damsel, if you make him fetch her,
he will cut off both your heads. Where is Arcalaus the Enchanter?
cried Beltenebros; the Squire showed him where he and another Knight
were under a tuft of trees, both being armed, and their horses ready
by them. At hearing this Oriana could scarce keep her seat upon the
palfrey. Lady Damsel, fear not! quoth he, if this sword fail me not I
will protect you. He then took his arms—tell Arcalaus I am a stranger
Knight, who know him not, and have no reason to obey him. When Arcalaus
heard this he grew greatly enraged, and said to the Knight with him,
Nephew Lindoraque, take that garland which the Damsel wears for your
Mistress Madasima; if the Knight attempts to hinder you cut off his
head, and hang the woman by the hair to a tree. Lindoraque mounted
and moved on to do it: he was a huge man, and well might be so, being
son of Cartadaque the giant of the defended mountain, by a sister of
Arcalaus. But Beltenebros held him at nought, and placing himself
right in his way, for he had heard his errand, cried, Knight, you pass
no farther! You shall not hinder me, quoth he, from performing the
pleasure of Arcalaus. Beltenebros answered, we shall see what your
pride and his villainy can do. They couched their lances and ran, the
lances broke, Lindoraque fell with the truncheon in his body, he
rose, being of stout heart, and seeing Beltenebros about to strike
him, bent from the blow, and reeled and fell upon the truncheon, and
drove it clean through his back, so that he died instantly. Arcalaus
was riding up to help him. Beltenebros galloped up to him and made him
lose the joust, and struck at him with his sword a blow that cut off
the lance, and with it half the hand, so that only his thumb was left.
He turned to fly, and threw away his shield, and by the fleetness of
his horse escaped. Beltenebros then bade Enil take the shield and hand
of Arcalaus, and the head of Lindoraque to the King, and tell him what
had happened. He and his Lady went on their way, and rested beside a
fountain till it was near night, then rode to Miraflores. The Squires
were ready, and Mabilia and the Damsel joyfully received them, for if
there had been delay they only expected death. Fair prizes have you
won, quoth Mabilia, but they have cost us a great alarm and many tears.
As Lisuarte and Galaor were returning to the town, a Damsel came up
and gave them each a letter, and rode away. The King read his thus:
To thee Lisuarte, King of Great Britain, I Urganda, the Unknown, send
salutation, and I tell thee that in the perilous and cruel battle
between thee and King Cildadan, Beltenebros, in whom you confide, shall
lose his name and his renown, and for one blow that he shall give all
his great deeds shall be quite forgotten. In that hour thou shalt be
in the greatest extremity, and in all danger of death, when the sharp
sword of Beltenebros shall shed thy blood. Cruel and dolorous will the
battle be; there will be great rage and cruelty, and no compassion. But
at last by three blows from the hand of Beltenebros his party shall
remain conquerors. Look to it King, for she who sends thee this warning
knows what is to come!
Brave as the King's heart was, this letter dismayed him; he believed
that Beltenebros was to lose his life, and that his own would be in
the utmost danger; howbeit he put on a good countenance, and gave the
letter to Galaor, and asked his counsel. Sir, quoth Galaor, I stand
in need of your counsel myself; but if this battle can honourably be
avoided, I should advise that it be done so; if that cannot be, you
should not be in the field; by the sword of Beltenebros your blood is
to be shed, and by three blows from his hand his party are to remain
conquerors. This I do not understand, for he is to be on your side; and
yet the letter says otherwise. Friend, quoth the King, your love for
me makes you advise me ill. I must not, for the knowledge of any one,
how wise soever, distrust the power of him who ordaineth all things. My
good friend, I will be in the battle, and take what fortune it please
God to give. The King's answer roused Galaor; rightly are you esteemed
the best King in the world! quoth he, and he then shewed him his own
letter.
You Don Galaor of Gaul, the strong and the brave, I Urganda, salute as
him whom I esteem and love; know from me what must befall you in the
dolorous battle, if you be there. After many cruelties and deaths that
you will have witnessed in the last press, your strong body and stout
limbs will fail your brave and ardent heart, and at the end your head
will be in his power, who, with the three blows that he shall give, is
to decide the day.
Friend, quoth Lisuarte, if this say true, you will be slain if you
enter the battle; I will so order that you may honourably decline it.
Sir, said Galaor, it seems the advice I gave displeased you, that you
would command me to my shame. God forbid that I should herein obey
you. Don Galaor! you are right, the King answered, we will trust in
God. Meantime say nothing of these letters lest our friends should be
discouraged. Before they entered the town two Knights came up to be
present in the battle, they were Don Bruneo of Bonamar, and Branfil
his brother; and Bruneo grieved much that he had not arrived in time
to prove the sword, for he had passed under the arch of Loyal Lovers,
and by his love to Melicia doubted not that he should have won it. Him
Galaor courteously saluted, and took to his lodging as a right worthy
Knight. Presently Enil arrived with the head of Lindoraque hanging from
the horse's breast-plate, and the hand and shield of Arcalaus. Then was
the great prowess of Beltenebros more praised, and Galaor and Florestan
more desirous, to prove in battle that he was not equal to their lost
brother Amadis. At this time Filispinel returned who had been sent with
the King's defiance to the giants; he brought word that they were gone
to Ireland, and would in four days time land in the port of the plain
where the battle was to be fought, and he brought with him this letter.
To the great Lord Lisuarte, King of Great Britain, and to all our
friends in his dominions. I Arban, a wretch, once King of North Wales,
and I Angriote of Estravaus, inform you that our unhappy fortune hath
thrown us into the power of the fierce Gromadaza, wife of Famongomadan,
who, in vengeance for the death of her husband and her son, inflicts
upon us such torments, that we wish for death to relieve us; but she
will not kill us that she may lengthen our sufferings, the which are
such, that we should have ridden ourselves of life, if it were not
for losing our souls thereby; but being now near death, we write this
letter with our blood, praying God to grant you the victory over these
traitors, who, in such inhuman sort torment us. Great sorrow had the
King hereat, and all his Knights; however he comforted them, assuring
them that there was no other remedy, or way of helping their friends,
than by conquering in this great battle: so they all prepared, and set
forth for the place appointed.
_CHAPTER 16._
Three days Beltenebros remained at Miraflores, on the fourth he
departed alone at midnight. He had told Enil to meet him at the Castle
of an old Knight, called Abradan, which was by the place of battle, and
there on the next day he found him. The old Knight received him well,
for he always, hospitably welcomed all Errant Knights. Presently two
Squires arrived, the nephews of the host, and said, that King Cildadan
was landed, and had pitched his tents upon the sea-shore, and his
Knights with him, and they were landing their horses and arms. Grumedan
and Giontes had been to them on the part of King Lisuarte, and made
truce till the day of battle, and also concluded that neither party
should bring out more than the hundred Knights appointed. Nephews,
said the host, what think you of those enemies whom God confound!
Good Uncle, said they, we must not speak of them; they are so strong
and terrible, that unless God miraculously assist our King, he and his
power will be nothing against them. Herewithal, the tears fell from
the old man's eyes, who cried, O Lord, do not forsake the best and
justest King in the world! Good mine host, quoth Beltenebros, be not
dismayed for their fierceness, for worth and modesty often overcome
proud valour. I pray you go to the King for me, and tell him that there
is in your house a Knight called Beltenebros, who requests to know the
day of battle that he may be there. How, Sir, cried old Abradan, are
you he who sent Don Quadragante to the King my Master, and who slew
Famongomadan and his son! Now am I overpaid for all the services that
ever I have rendered to Errant Knights. So taking his Nephews to guide
him, he went to King Lisuarte, who was arrived within half a league of
his enemies. Greatly was the King rejoiced with what he said, and he
told him the battle should be on the next day, and said, there lacked
him but one Knight of the hundred. Don Grumedan replied, you are rather
above the number, for Beltenebros should be counted for five. When the
old man returned with these tidings, Enil took his Master aside, and
kneeling down, said, Albeit Sir my services have not merited it, yet
your great goodness emboldens me to ask a boon, and I beseech you for
God's sake to grant it me. Beltenebros raised him and said, ask any
thing that I can do. Enil would have kissed his hand; Sir, I ask you
to make me a Knight, and to entreat the King that I may be one of the
hundred since one is wanting. Friend Enil, replied Beltenebros, let it
not enter your heart to begin so perilously. I do not say this because
I will not make thee a Knight, but to advise thee to undertake lighter
adventures first. My good Master, quoth Enil, where can I adventure so
well? if I come from the field alive it will always be to my praise
and honour, and if I die it will be dying well, and my memory will be
joined with all those good Knights who must perish there. But then an
affectionate pity was felt at the heart of Beltenebros, and he said
within himself, thou dost well show thyself to be of the lineage of
Gandales, my excellent and true fosterer! Be it so! said he, and he
asked the host to give the Squire arms; and Enil watched them that
night, and after dawn they heard mass, and Beltenebros knighted him,
and they departed, their host and his Nephews carrying their arms. They
found Lisuarte putting his battle in order to go against the enemies,
who were ready in the plain. The King and his Knights rejoiced to
see Beltenebros. Sir, quoth he, I come to perform my promise, and I
bring with me this Knight to supply the one lacking. The King joyfully
welcomed him, and placed his Knight to make up the complement. Then
they moved on in one battalion: the King was in the middle of the rank,
before him Beltenebros and his companion were placed, and Galaor,
Florestan, and Agrayes; Gandalac, the Giant who had fostered Galaor,
and his two sons Bramandil, and Gavus whom Galaor had knighted;
Nicoran, of the Perilous Bridge, Dragonis and Palomir, and Pinorante,
Giontes, nephew to the King, the renowned Don Bruneo of Bonamar,
and his brother Branfil, and Don Guilan the Pensive. All these were
together, and before them went that honourable and good old Knight Don
Grumedan, Brisena's fosterer, with the banner of the King.
King Cildadan on his side placed the Giants in the front of the battle,
and twenty Knights of his lineage of great valour. He stationed
Madanfabul, the Giant of the Isle of the Vermillion Tower, upon a
little rising ground, and with him ten of the best Knights, and
directed them not to move till they saw that all were weary, and that
then they should make way fiercely towards King Lisuarte, to kill
him or carry him prisoner to the ships. In this array the two parties
approached with deliberate pace till they came near, and then they met
with such a shock that many a man fell, and many a horse ran over the
field without a rider. That was a hard and dolorous day for all who
were there present! for striking and struggling they continued thus
without rest or intermission a third part of the day, with such toil
and effort, being in the mid heat of summer, that they and their horses
were so wearied, and the wounded bled so fast, that in many life could
endure no longer, and there they fell dead, especially those whom the
Giants had wounded with their great force. In that hour Beltenebros
did wonders in arms with that good sword, striking and slaying all
before him, though the care with which he kept watch over the King
most employed him; for Lisuarte knowing that the great shame, or great
glory of the day would be his, thrust himself into the hottest press
of the battle. Galaor and Florestan, and Agrayes kept by him, being
emulous to equal Beltenebros that day, and Don Bruneo watched to assist
Galaor, who, like a lion made among the Giants, to equal him whom he
thought the rival of Amadis, regardless of their great strength, and
those whom he saw fall under their blows. In this heat he came before
Cartadaque, the Giant of the Defended Mountain, who with a heavy battle
axe, notwithstanding Florestan had given him a deep wound in the
shoulder, had already killed six Knights at his feet. Galaor made at
him, and with his sword struck him upon the helmet; it cut away all it
touched, and lopt off his ear, and passing downward cut the battle-axe
helve from his hand. When the Giant saw his enemy so near, and that he
had no weapon to wound him, he laid hold on him with his hands, and
plucked him so forcibly that the saddle girth broke, and he fell, but
still the Giant held him; and Galaor thought he never could escape
from that mighty grasp, and that all his bones were broken. Yet before
his senses were gone he recovered his sword that hung from his wrist
by the chain, and thrust it through the vizor of Cartadaque's helmet;
the Giant's gripe relaxed, and he fell dead. Galaor arose then, but so
weak and exhausted, that he could not pluck his sword from the Giant's
head. The Knights on both sides pressed towards him, some to kill him
at this disadvantage, his own friends to his help. The battle became
fiercer there than it had yet been; King Cildadan came up, and on the
other part Beltenebros. Beltenebros twice smote Cildadan on the head
such stunning blows that the King fell from his horse at the feet of
Galaor. Galaor caught up the sword of Cildadan, and laid about him till
his strength and senses were gone, and he fell upon the body of King
Cildadan.
At this time the Giants Gandalac and Albadanzor were engaged; they
smote each other so furiously with their clubs, that they and their
horses both fell. Albadanzor's arm was broken, and Gandalac's leg;
howbeit he and his sons slew their enemy. The day was now half over,
and on the two sides an hundred and twenty Knights had been slain.
Madanfabul, the Giant of the Vermillion Tower, was looking on from the
hill; he saw how the field was thinned, that they who remained were
weary with their toil, their armour broken, and their horses stiff
and exhausted. He thought that he and his companions could now have
discomfited all that were left on both sides, and descended into the
field, crying out, Leave not a man of them alive; I will kill or take
King Lisuarte. Beltenebros had just mounted a fresh horse, which one
of old Abradan's nephews gave him; he saw the Giant and his troop come
on, and placed himself before the King, and called on Florestan and
Agrayes, who were near; with these Don Bruneo of Bonamar joined, and
Branfil, and Guilan the Pensive, and Enil, who had done much in that
battle, and was therefore always held in high esteem, all these albeit
they were grievously wounded, and their horses also, placed themselves
before the King. Before Madanfabul came a Knight called Sarmadan the
Lion, the Uncle of King Cildadan, and for strength and prowess the
best of his lineage. Beltenebros stood foremost to meet him. Sarmadan
drove his lance at him, it broke, yet pierced the shield and wounded
him, though with no deep wound. Then Beltenebros hit him a thwart blow
with his sword across the bever, straight over both eyes, and through
both, that he fell dead. But Madanfabul and his other comrades came on
so fiercely, that the most of those who were of King Lisuarte's part
were beaten down before them, and he made right for the King, with
such fresh strength, that the Knights about the King, bravely as they
adventured, could not protect him; he seized Lisuarte round the neck,
and grasped him so strongly that he lost all power of resistance,
plucked him from the saddle, and carried him towards the ships. When
Beltenebros beheld that he exclaimed, O Lord God, let not Oriana have
this affliction! He struck the spurs into his horse and galloped after
him sword in hand, and reaching him smote at him with his whole force.
The sword fell on the right arm with which he held the King, and cut it
clean through by the elbow; the weapon stayed not there, but passing on
cut through the King's breast-plate, and wounded him so that the blood
streamed down. Lisuarte was left upon the ground, and the Giant fled
like a lost man, bleeding to death. When Beltenebros saw that with that
one blow he had slain that mighty Giant, and rescued King Lisuarte from
so great a danger, he shouted out, Gaul! Gaul! for I am Amadis. This he
cried as he laid on among his enemies, felling them or slaying them,
and in good season did he exert this prowess, for great havock had been
made among the Knights of his party, so many slain, others wounded,
and fighting on foot, and the enemies had come fresh against them with
great strength, and an eager desire to kill all they could. For this
cause Amadis put forth his strength, so that it might well be said his
great prowess was the safety and support of his party that day; but
what most kindled him was, that he had seen his brother Galaor afoot
and sore wearied, and looking again saw him no longer, so that surely
he thought him dead, and with this grief and anger he encountered no
Knight whom he did not slay. When they of King Cildadan's party saw the
great feats that he atchieved, they took for their leader a Knight of
the race of the Giants, whose name was Gadancuriel, and who had made
such slaughter that day that he was noted by all. They expected, being
led by him to win the day, and at this time Amadis had thrust in so
far among the enemy that he was beset by them and in great peril. King
Lisuarte had mounted again, and with him were Don Bruneo of Bonamar,
and Florestan, and Guilan the Pensive, and Ladasin, and Galvanes
Lackland, and Olivas, and old Grumedan, from whose hand the banner had
been cut. The King seeing Amadis in such danger made up to succour him
like a worthy King, although he had many wounds, and all rejoicing that
Beltenebros was Amadis, forced their way up to him, and released him
from the press. He then turned whither he would, and chance guided him
to where his cousin Agrayes, and Palomir and Dragonis were on foot,
and many Knights upon them striving to slay them, but they standing
together, and still defending themselves manfully. He seeing them thus,
called upon his brother Florestan, and Guilan the Pensive, to their
succour. There came against him a Knight of great renown, called
Vadamigar, whose helmet had been struck off; he wounded the horse of
Amadis in the neck, but Amadis reached him, and cleft him down to the
ears, and as he fell cried out. Cousin Agrayes, take this horse! And
Florestan struck down a good Knight, called Daniel, and gave his horse
to Palomir, and Palomir then won one for Dragonis; and Guilan wounded
Landin sorely, and unhorsed him, and gave his horse to Branfil: thus
they were all helped, and then they followed in the path of Amadis,
who went on cutting his way manfully, and shouting Gaul! Gaul! Amadis!
that the enemy might know he was in the field. Such courage did he
then display, and so well did Florestan and Agrayes, and those other
Knights second him, and King Lisuarte also played his part so well,
that they won the battle; the enemies who survived flying to their
ships, and Amadis still among them raging for the death of Galaor. But
Gadancuriel still made head with those whom he could turn from flight,
and he turned upon the King. Florestan, who had seen his feats that
day, thrust himself before Lisuarte to save him, though he had only a
broken sword. Gadancuriel cut through the helmet and wounded him in the
head, he with his broken sword smote him on the helmet so that it fell
off, and then Lisuarte cleft his head; there was none other left to
maintain the field: they who fled perished before they could reach the
water, or in the water before they could reach their ships.
Then Amadis cried to Florestan and Agrayes, weeping as he spake, Good
kinsmen, I fear we have lost Don Galaor, let us seek for him. They went
to the spot where Amadis had smitten down King Cildadan, and seen his
brother last on foot; but so many were the dead who lay there that they
saw him not, till as they moved away the bodies, Florestan knew him
by the sleeve of his surcoat, which was of azure worked with silver
flowers, and then they made great moan over him. But when Amadis saw
him thus with exceeding grief he threw himself from his horse, and his
wounds over which the blood had clotted burst open with the fall, and
bled abundantly, and he laying aside his shield and helm that were
all hacked and bruised, went to Galaor and took off his helmet, and
took his head upon his knees. Galaor at the fresh air began to move a
little, and they all gathered round him weeping to see him thus. While
they were thus standing twelve Damsels richly apparelled came up, and
some Squires with them, who brought a bed covered with rich drapery.
The Damsels knelt before Amadis and said, Sir, we are come hither for
Don Galaor, if you would have him live give him to us: if not, all the
Masters in Great Britain cannot help him. Amadis knew not the Damsels,
and he saw the great danger of Galaor, and could not tell what to do;
but those Knights advised him to trust his brother to this fortune,
rather than see him die without any possibility of saving him. Good
Damsels, said Amadis, may I know whither you would carry him? They
answered, not as yet; but if you desire his life give him to us; else
we must go our way. Then Amadis besought that they would take him also;
this they refused, but at his request they suffered Ardian the Dwarf,
and his Squire to follow them. Then they laid him in the bed, armed as
he was, all except his helmet and gauntlets, and half dead; and Amadis
and the Knights followed them, weeping, to the shore. A ship was ready
there in which the Damsels placed him, and then returned and went to
King Lisuarte, and besought him that he would be pleased to give them
King Cildadan also, who lay among the dead, bidding him remember that
he was a good King, and had suffered this evil in doing what he was
bound to do: and they prayed the King to have pity upon him, that he
might look for pity himself in his need. Lisuarte readily assented.
They took up Cildadan more dead than alive, and carried him in the same
bed on board, then made sail, and were speedily out of sight.
Meantime Lisuarte had secured the enemies fleet that nothing might
escape, taking prisoners all who were not slain in battle. He now came
up to Amadis, and the Knights that were weeping with him, and when he
heard their lamentation was for the loss of Galaor, he was grieved at
heart, for Galaor had faithfully and affectionately served him from the
hour wherein he became his Knight; then he dismounted, his armour being
all stained with blood, and embraced Amadis, and bade him take comfort,
for God would not suffer such a man as his brother to perish. They
all then went to the tent of King Cildadan, and there took food, and
he ordered that all the Knights who had fallen on his side should be
buried in a monastery that was at the foot of a near mountain, and he
ordered the due service for their souls, and assigned rents for masses
for them. Moreover he ordered a stately chapel to be built there, and
rich monuments therein for them, and that their names should all be
engraved upon their tombs. Messengers were sent to inform Queen Brisena
of his good fortune, and he and his Knights then went to Ganota, a
town four leagues off, and there they remained till their wounds were
healed.
While this battle was expected Queen Briolania went to visit Oriana
at Miraflores. Oriana had her apartments hung with rich hangings to
receive a guest whom she so greatly desired to see. When they met both
were somewhat abashed, for neither the proof of the Enchanted Arch,
nor of the Green Sword, could keep Oriana's heart so calm, but that it
beat fast with fear, thinking that no affection, how true soever, could
resist such beauty as she saw before her. And Briolania, who had seen
the tears and thoughtfulness of Amadis, and knew what proof of love he
had given at the Firm Island, presently concluded it could be only for
this Princess, before whom she felt her own beauty even as nothing. So
as they were freely communing together, Briolania related at length all
that Amadis had done for her, and said how in her heart she loved him.
Oriana then willing to learn farther, asked her why, as they were of
equal rank, and she at her own disposal, she did not make him master of
herself and her own dominions? Friend and Lady, replied Briolania, much
as you have seen him, I think you know him not. Do you not believe I
should think myself the happiest woman in the world if this could be?
But you shall know all—and keep it I pray you secret, as one like you
should do. I ventured upon this proposal, and it shames me whenever I
remember it, but he replied, that he could neither bear affection to
me nor to any other; the which I then believed, for unlike all other
Knights, I never heard him speak of woman. You tell me wonders, quoth
Oriana, glad at heart of what she heard; but unless Amadis loved some
one he could not have passed under the Arch of True Lovers, which yet
showed him more honour than ever any other had received. He may love,
replied Briolania, but in his love he is the most secret that ever yet
Knight was.
Briolania remained ten days with Oriana, and then they both went
to join Queen Brisena at Fenusa, a town, where she was waiting for
Lisuarte. Greatly rejoiced was she to see her daughter so recovered.
There the tidings came of the victory, for joy whereat Brisena gave
great alms to the churches and convents, and to those who were in
want. But who can tell what joy there was to hear that Beltenebros was
Amadis! What think you now of Amadis, quoth Briolania to Oriana, who
affected the same surprise as the rest; I was in doubt whether he or
Beltenebros most deserved my love. Queen and Lady, replied Oriana, we
will ask him when he comes, wherefore he changed his name, and who the
Damsel is that won the garland of flowers.
_CHAPTER 17._
Now you shall know what became of King Cildadan and Galaor. The
Damsels who removed them dressed their wounds, and on the third day
they recovered their senses. Galaor found himself in a rich room,
which stood upon four marble pillars, and had an iron grating on all
sides, through which he saw that he was in a garden, surrounded with
a high wall, in which was only one little door covered with plates
of iron. Astonished to find himself in such a place, he thought he
was in prison, and felt such pain from his wounds that he expected
nothing but death; and he remembered the battle, but knew not who had
carried him from it, nor how he had been removed there. King Cildadan
also, when he came to himself, saw that he was lying in a rich bed in
the vaulted chamber of a large tower. He looked round and saw no one,
neither door nor any entrance into the chamber, but over the arch he
heard voices. There was a window near his bed from whence he looked
out and saw the sea, and it seemed that the tower he was in was a high
tower upon a rock, and that the sea washed it on three sides. He too
remembered the battle but nothing more: but he well knew that if he was
thus a prisoner, his friends could not be in better plight, and seeing
no remedy, lay down again in bed, groaning and in great pain with his
wounds.
Don Galaor, as he was lying in the open chamber, saw the little door
of the garden wall open, and raised his head with great difficulty;
there came in a Damsel very fair and richly apparalled, and with her
a man so feeble and old that it was a wonder how he could walk, they
came up to the iron grating, and said to him, Don Galaor, look to your
soul, for we cannot warrant you. The Damsel then produced two little
boxes, one of iron the other of silver, and showing them to Galaor,
said, She who brought you here wills not that you should die till she
knows whether you will perform her will; if so, your wounds shall be
healed, and you shall have food. Good Damsel, replied he, if what she
desire be any thing that I ought not to do, it will be worse than
death. Do as you please, quoth she, we care little for your answer:
it is at your own choice to live or die. The old man then opened the
door of the grating, and they both went in, and she took the box of
iron, and told the old man to withdraw, and then she said to Galaor,
Sir, I have such compassion on you, that I will venture my own life
to save yours. I have been ordered to fill this box with poison, and
the other with an ointment to make you sleep; the poison being then
rubbed into your wounds will act more instantly and you would presently
die; but instead of this I have put here a remedy, the which, if you
take it daily for seven days, will so heal you, that by that time you
shall be wholly recovered, and able to ride on horseback as before. She
then applied the ointment to his wounds, and the pain was instantly
assuaged. Good Damsel, quoth he, you do so greatly bind me to your
service, that if by your help I may escape from hence, never was Damsel
so well guerdoned by Knight as you shall be: but if you have not means
for this and yet wish to serve me, contrive that Urganda the Unknown
may know in what perilous prison I am laid, for in her I have great
hope. The Damsel then began to laugh—what hope can you have in Urganda,
who cares little for your weal or woe? So much, replied Galaor, that
as she knows the wishes of all, she knows how greatly it is my wish to
serve her. The Damsel then answered, Look for no other Urganda than
me, Don Galaor; and take you good hope, for it is the part of courage,
not only to encounter danger, but to endure its after-chances for the
danger in which I place myself to heal you, and deliver you from hence,
I ask one boon, which shall be neither to your dishonour nor hurt. I
grant, quoth he, all that may rightly be performed. Now then, said she,
it is time to depart, lie you down, and feign to sleep soundly. He
did accordingly; she called the old man and said, Look how he sleeps!
Now the poison will work. So it ought, quoth the old man, that he who
brought him here may be avenged. Since you have obeyed so well you may
come alone for the future, and see that you keep him fifteen days, that
he die not, but live in great agony, and by that time they will be here
who shall make him atone for the wrongs he hath done them. When Galaor
heard this he found that the old man was his mortal enemy, howbeit he
took hope for what she had said to him. The old man and the Damsel then
went out of the garden; presently she returned, and brought with her
two little girls, fair girls and well apparelled, who took food for
Galaor; and she let them into the chamber to keep him company, and gave
them books of history to read to him, that he might not sleep by day,
and then she fastened the door and left them.
King Cildadan in the tower saw also a door open in the wall, a stone
door so neatly fitted that it looked like the wall itself, and a Dame
of middle age entered with two armed Knights, and approached the bed
without saluting him; he on his part spake to them with courteous
salutation, but they answered not. The Dame took off the bed cloaths,
and applied salves to his wounds, then gave him food, and they went
out again and fastened the stone door, not having spoken a word. The
King thought that verily he was in prison, and where his life was not
secure; howbeit having no remedy, he took as good comfort as he could.
When it was time the Damsel returned to Galaor, and asked him how he
fared? So well, quoth he, that if it proceed so I shall be in good
plight by the time you promised. Doubt not, said she, that what I have
said shall be accomplished. But you must promise me the boon as a
loyal Knight, for only by my help can you escape; the attempt would be
to your mortal danger and hurt, and you could not effect it at last.
That Galaor promised, and he besought her to tell him her name. What,
quoth she, Don Galaor, know you not my name? I am deceived in you! Time
was that I did you a service, which it seems you little remember. They
call me the Wise[261:A] among the wisest. With that she departed, and
he remained thinking who she might be; and remembering the good sword
which Urganda had given him when he was knighted by Amadis, he thought
it should be her, but Urganda was old, and this was a Damsel. He looked
for the two little girls and they were gone, but in their stead he saw
his Squire Gasavel, and Ardian the Dwarf of Amadis, both sleeping. He
joyfully called them, they awoke; and when they saw who was there ran
weeping for joy to kiss his hand, and exclaimed, O good Sir! blessed be
God who has brought us here to serve you! He asked them how they came
there: they replied, they knew not; only that Amadis and Agrayes, and
Florestan, had sent them with him. Amadis, quoth he, was he found at
such a time? Sir, said they, know that Beltenebros is your own brother
Amadis, and that by his prowess the battle was won. Thou tellest me
great things, cried Galaor, and great pleasure have I therein, though
he has not given me cause for pleasure in keeping himself so long
concealed from me. Thus abode King Cildadan and Don Galaor: the one
in that great Tower, the other in the Garden-chamber, where they were
both healed of their hurts. Then Urganda made herself known to them,
for they were in her power in her Undiscovered Island; and she told
them that the fear wherein she had put them was to effect their cure
more speedily, for in their perilous state it so behoved. And she sent
two Damsels to attend them and compleat their recovery; they were her
nieces and fair Damsels, being the daughters of King Falangris, who
was brother to Lisuarte by Grimota, Urganda's sister; by him begotten
when he was a young batchelor. The one was called Julianda, the other
Solisa: and it so chanced that the one bore a son named Talanque, to
Don Galaor, and the other a son to King Cildadan, who was called Maneli
the discreet, who were both valiant and strong Knights, and in this
state of great pleasure these two Knights remained till it pleased
Urganda to set them at liberty, as you shall hear hereafter.
[261:A] Sabencia sobre sabencia.
When Lisuarte and Amadis, and the other Knights were all whole of their
wounds, he went to Fenusa, where the Queen then sojourned, and there
was he received with such joy by her, and by Briolania and Oriana, and
the other Dames and Damsels, as never welcomed man before. But the
joyful greeting which Queen Briolania gave to Amadis, that can in no
way be written; she taking him by the hand made him sit between her
and Oriana, and she said to him, my Lord, the grief and sorrow which
I felt when they told me you were lost I cannot relate to you. I came
hither with an hundred Knights immediately that your brothers might
order them whither they would in your search, and because this battle
delayed their departure, I resolved to remain here till it was decided.
Now then direct me what I shall do, and it shall be done. Good Lady
mine, quoth Amadis, if you felt sorrow for my mishap, great reason had
you: for there is no man in the world who hath a better will to obey
you; but since you desire me to direct you, I would have you abide here
ten days, and dispatch your business with the King; in that time we may
know something of my brother Don Galaor, and there will be a battle
which has been appointed between Don Florestan and Landin, after that
I will conduct you to your kingdom, and from thence I must go to the
Firm Island, where I have much to do. So let it be, replied Briolania,
and I beseech you tell us the wonders which you found in that Island.
He would have excused himself, but Oriana took his hand and said,
You shall not leave us till you have told us something of them. Good
Ladies, quoth Amadis, trust me, labour however I should, I could never
relate all; but this I say, that that Forbidden Chamber is the most
rich and beautifullest thing in the world, and if by one of you it is
not atchieved, I believe none else will ever win it. Briolania, after
a while of silence, answered, I do not esteem myself such a one as can
accomplish that adventure, yet such as I am, if you will not impute it
to folly, I will prove it. Lady, quoth Amadis, I hold it no folly to
attempt that wherein all have failed for want of beauty, especially
in you whom God hath gifted so bountifully therewith, rather I hold
it honourable to desire to win a fame which may endure through long
ages. At this was Oriana greatly displeased, and her countenance fell,
so that Amadis, whose eyes never left her, understood her feelings,
and repented him of what he had said, albeit that all his design had
been to her greater praise, for having seen the likeness of Grimanesa
he knew that Briolania, fair as she was, did not equal her beauty,
and of his own Lady's success he nothing doubted. But Oriana feared
that whatever was to be won by beauty Briolania could win, and having
requested her if she succeeded to let her know all the wonders of
the Chamber, she withdrew, and went to Mabilia and told her what had
passed. This always is the case with your Cousin, said she, my poor
heart thinks only of pleasing him, neither regarding God nor the anger
of my parents, and he knowing his full power holds me at little price,
and then the tears came and coursed down her fair cheeks. Mabilia
answered, I marvel Lady what manner of heart is yours! you are no
sooner out of one trouble than you seek another. What great wrong is
this that my Cousin hath committed? If Apolidon left this Chamber to be
proved by all, shall he forbid the proof to Briolania? Certes I believe
that neither her beauty nor yours will avail to accomplish that which
none in a hundred years for lack of beauty could effect. But this is
his over-ruling destiny that hath made him forsake all his lineage for
your service, and thus it is you reward him; you do not desire his
life, and will therefore drive him to death. This will be his reward!
and mine, for all the friendship I have borne you, will be to see the
flower of all my family, him who so dearly loves me, perish before my
eyes. This will I never remain to see: for my brother Agrayes, and
Galvanes my Uncle, shall take me home to my own country! and with that
she wept and exclaimed, God grant that this cruelty toward Amadis may
be well requited to you, and this wrong you do his friends! but their
loss, great though it be, will be less than yours, destroying him who
for your sake has deserted them, to give himself wholly to you. When
Mabilia spake thus Oriana's heart was so overcharged that she could not
speak, till at last the tears came, and she cried, wretch that I am
above all others! I came to you for relief and you increase my sorrow,
suspecting that which was never in my heart! Let God never help me if
ever I had such thought! but what distresses me is, lest another woman
should accomplish that proof which would be to me worse than death, and
this fear has made me think wrongly of him who perhaps had but good
in his intention: but come—forgive me—and for the love you bear your
Cousin advise me! And then with a sweet smile she embraced Mabilia,
True friend and dearest, I promise you I will never speak of this to
your Cousin, nor let him know that I have had such a thought, but say
you to him what you think best. Mabilia answered, I will forgive you on
one condition, that whatever anger you conceive against him you never
discover it to him till you have first consulted me, that no evil like
the past may happen again. With this were they well reconciled, between
whom there could never be a want of love.
But Mabilia sharply reprehended Amadis, and warned him to be wary in
his conduct to Briolania, remembering what he had suffered on her
account, and how difficult it is to root out jealousy from a woman's
heart. Amadis replied, Lady and good Cousin, my thoughts were very
different. Briolania is held by all for one of the most beautiful
women in the world, so they make no doubt she can enter the Forbidden
Chamber, but I who have seen the likeness of Grimanesa know that it
will not be so. That honour which any one hitherto has won, that
certainly will Briolania win: but Oriana has only to try and to
succeed. But if Oriana atchieves the adventure before Briolania has
essayed it, all will say that the other would have won had she been
first; on the contrary, when she will have failed, as sure I am she
must fail, my Lady will have her full glory. Well was Oriana satisfied
at hearing this, and greatly repented her of her fault, to atone for
which they appointed that Amadis should come to her apartment, through
an old water way that issued into a garden. Presently Oriana and
Briolania called Amadis, and requested him to answer them truly what
they should ask, the which he promised. Tell us then, said Oriana, who
the Damsel was who won the garland when you gained the sword? Then was
Amadis grieved at the question because he was bound to answer it truly.
As God shall help me Lady, said he, I know no more of her name than you
do, though I was seven days in her company; but this I can say, that
she had beautiful locks, and as far as I could see was right fair. Thus
was Oriana sporting with him, when there came a Damsel to summon him
on the King's part, saying, that Don Quadragante and his nephew Landin
were come to acquit themselves of their promises. Being all assembled
Quadragante rose and said, I come to discharge a promise made to
Amadis of Gaul; and he then related how they had done battle together,
and added, that both by the event of that battle, and by reason
he was bound to forgive him the death of King Abies, who had been
slain in fair combat, and to receive him for a friend even in what
degree it pleased him. Then Amadis embraced him and thanked him; and
notwithstanding this friendship appeared a thing constrained, yet did
it long and faithfully continue. And because Florestan and Landin were
to fight upon the same quarrel, it was judged, that since Quadragante,
who was principal in the cause had forgiven it, their dispute should
cease; the which pleased Landin not a little, for he had witnessed the
prowess of Florestan in the great battle.
King Lisuarte now called to mind the cruel prison of King Arban of
North Wales, and Angriote of Estravaus, and determined to pass over
to the Island of Mongaza to deliver them; this resolution he imparted
to his Knights. Then Amadis answered, Sir, you know what loss to your
service is the absence of Don Galaor; if it please you I and my brother
and my cousins will go in search of him, and if it please God return
with him by the time that you make this voyage. The King replied, God
knows with what good will I myself would seek him, if so many things
did not prevent me, since I cannot, do what you say. Then more than
an hundred Knights arose, all good men in arms, and said that they
would enter upon that quest, for in no worthier adventure could they
be employed. Thereat was King Lisuarte well pleased, and he besought
Amadis not to depart, for he would speak with him.
_CHAPTER 18._
After supper, it being almost the hour of sleep, as the King was in
the gallery looking toward the sea, he saw two fires coming on through
the water, whereat all were greatly astonished, marvelling how the
fire and water could exist together. As they drew nearer, a galley was
seen between the two fires, and on its mast there were great torches
burning, so that the whole vessel seemed ablaze. The uproar was great,
for all the people ran to the walls to see this wonder, expecting that
if the water could not quench this fire nothing else could, and the
city would surely be consumed; so they were greatly terrified. The
Queen with all her Ladies went in their fear to the chapel, and the
King mounted, and with his guard of fifty Knights rode down to the
shore, and found there the most part of his Knights, and in the front
of all Amadis, and Guilan the Pensive, and Enil, so near the fires
that he wondered how they could endure them; then spurring his horse,
whom the tumult had frightened, he rode up to them. Presently he saw
come from under a cloth that covered the deck a Dame clad in white
holding a golden casket in her hands, the which she opened and took out
a lighted candle and threw it into the sea, where it was extinguished.
At once the two great fires were quenched so that no trace of them
remained, only the torches upon the mast remained burning, and cast
a light along the shore. Then was the cloth which covered the galley
withdrawn, and they saw how it was all hung with green boughs, and
strewed with roses and flowers, and they heard instruments within
sounding very sweetly; and when the instruments ceased, ten Damsels
came forth, all richly garmented, with garlands on their heads and
wands of gold in their hands, and before them was the Lady who had
quenched the candle in the sea: and they coming to the galley's edge
opposite to the King made obeisance to him, and he on his part returned
the greeting. Then said Lisuarte, Dame, you have put us in great fear
with your fires, if it please you tell me who you are, though I believe
with little difficulty we can divine. Sir, quoth she, in vain should he
labour who strove to strike fear into your great heart, and into these
Knights in whom no fear is; these fires I bring to protect me and my
Damsels: and if you think I am Urganda the Unknown, you think aright;
I come to you as the best King in the world, and to behold the Queen,
who for virtue and goodness hath no peer. Then said she to Amadis, Sir,
draw nearer, and I will tell you of your brother Galaor to save you
and your friends the labour of searching him; for though all in the
world were to seek him it would be but labour lost: he is healed of his
wounds, and leads a life of such pleasure as he never till now enjoyed.
Lady, quoth Amadis, I always thought that next to God the safety of Don
Galaor was in your hands, else would I rather have died than suffer him
to be carried from me as he was. You shall soon see him, quoth she. The
King then said, it is time that you should leave the galley and come
to my palace. Many thanks, she answered, but this night I will remain
here, to-morrow I will be at your command; then let Amadis and Agrayes,
and Don Bruneo of Bonamar, and Don Guilan the Pensive come for me, for
they are all lovers and of high heart, even as I am myself. Use your
own pleasure, replied Lisuarte, in this and every thing; then ordering
all the people to return into the town he took his leave, and appointed
twenty cross-bowmen to keep guard that none should go down to the
shore.
In the morning the Queen sent twelve palfreys richly accoutred for
Urganda and her Damsels. Amadis and the other Knights whom she had
named, being clothed in costly garments, went with them; they found
Urganda and her company in a tent which she had pitched upon the sand,
and they placed them on their palfreys, and went towards the town,
the four Knights surrounding Urganda. Now, said she, is my heart
glad, because I see those around me who are like myself, and this she
said because of the love she bore to that fair Knight who was her
friend. When they arrived at the palace the King welcomed her right
courteously, and she kissed his hand; and looking round and beholding
the Knights on every side how many they were, she said, Sir, you are
well accompanied, and this I say, not so much for the valour of these
Knights as for the love they bear you, for when princes are loved by
their people then are their kingdoms safe. Therefore preserve their
love, and beware of evil counsellors! Now if it please you I will see
the Queen. So she and the four Knights went to Brisena, by whom and
by Oriana, and Briolania, and all the Dames and Damsels, she was
lovingly received. Much did she admire the beauty of Briolania, and
saw that it fell far short of Oriana's perfection. Lady, quoth she,
I came to this court to see the greatness of the King and you, the
height of prowess and the flower of beauty, and the perfection of true
love; for as valour was proved in the conquest of the Firm Island,
and in the death of the giants, and in that dolorous battle with King
Cildadan, so was true love in the proofs of the burning sword and of
the garland. When Oriana heard her say this her colour changed, and she
greatly feared, as did Mabilia and the Damsel of Denmark, fearing that
Urganda should tell all; and Oriana looked at Amadis, but he seeing her
apprehension drew near to her and said, fear nothing, she will not say
what you imagine; and then he went to the Queen and said, Lady, ask
Urganda who she was who won the garland, and the Queen replied, if it
please you friend, tell us what Amadis desires to know! She smiled and
answered, he better ought to know than I for he was in her company, and
with great toil delivered her from Arcalaus and Lindoraque. I? quoth
Amadis; it cannot be that I should know either her or myself better
than you know us, for from you nothing is concealed. Then, said she,
I will tell you what you know of her, and raising her voice that all
might hear her she pursued: Though Amadis brought her here as a Damsel
she is certainly no Damsel: and because she loves so truly she won
the garland. She is a native of this kingdom, and in this kingdom she
dwells and hath here her heirship; but her mother is not of this land;
and if she lacks any thing it is only because she cannot have him whom
she loveth. He who would discover her must seek her in this kingdom,
and he will lose his labour. She said no more, and Oriana's heart was
then at rest. Then went they to their meal.
Urganda besought the Queen that she might be lodged with Oriana and
Queen Briolania. That shall you, replied Brisena, but I believe their
follies will disquiet you. Their beauty, quoth Urganda, will more
disquiet the Knights, whose valour cannot protect them against that
danger. They may easily, replied the Queen, be pardoned the deaths of
all they have yet slain! So taking her leave Urganda went to Oriana's
apartment, where there were four beds, one for Briolania, and one for
Mabilia, and for Urganda and herself. When Urganda saw that they were
all asleep except Oriana, she said to her, Lady and friend, if you do
not sleep reason it is that he should keep you waking who has no rest
but in your sight. Oriana was abashed at her words: but she added, fear
nothing, I will not divulge your secrets. Speak low, cried Oriana, that
they may not hear you. I will relieve you of that fear, quoth Urganda;
therewithall she took forth a book which was so little that a hand
might have shut over it, and began to read. Now, said she, do what you
will they shall not awake, and if any one should enter the room she
would fall down asleep. Oriana rose and went to awaken Briolania but
she could not, and she laughed and took her by the head and hands and
pulled her out of bed, and did the same to Mabilia, but they neither of
them awakened; and then she called the Damsel of Denmark, who was just
without the door, and she, so soon as she entered, fell upon the floor
in a deep sleep. Then Oriana joyfully went into Urganda's bed and said,
I beseech you, since you know what is to come, tell me what will happen
to me! Urganda looked at her and smiled. Dear daughter, said she, do
you think to escape it, if it be evil, by knowing it aforehand? Believe
not so! for that which is permitted and ordained by the Most High none
can alter, whether it be good or ill, unless he remedies it; but since
you so greatly wish me to say something I will speak: look now, if
when you have the knowledge you can profit by it! At that time, when
great sorrow shall be present with you, and many shall because of you
be greatly afflicted, the strong Lion with his beasts shall come forth,
and with his loud roaring shall in such sort astonish those who have
you in their keeping, that you shall be left in his strong talons. And
the famous Lion shall throw from your head the lofty crown which shall
no longer be yours, and the hungry Lion having your body in his power
shall bear it into his den that his extreme famine may be slacked. Now
daughter dear look how you act, for this must come to pass! Lady, quoth
Oriana, I should have been better content if I had not enquired, for
you have made me in great terror of this strange and cruel end. Lady
and daughter fair, replied Urganda, seek not to know that which neither
your prudence nor strength can avert. Of these dark things men often
dread that for which they ought to be joyful. Meantime be you happy,
for God has made you daughter of the best King and Queen in the world,
and has gifted you with such beauty that it is ever spoken of as a
wonder, and has made that Knight love you, who shines above all other
in prowess, even as day above darkness. Now it is time to awaken these
ladies; she then opened her book again, and read, and they recovered.
After some days Urganda besought the King to summon all his Knights,
and the Queen to assemble her Dames and Damsels, that she might speak
to them before her departure; accordingly they met together in a
spacious hall that was richly furnished, and Urganda placed herself
where all might hear her. Then she said to the King, Sir, since you
have kept the letters which I sent to you and Don Galaor just after
Beltenebros had won the sword, I beseech you let them be produced, that
all here may know that I knew what was to come to pass. The letters
were then read, and it was seen how all had been accomplished, whereat
the Knights marvelled, and still more admired the courage of the King
who, notwithstanding that fearful forewarning, had dared enter the
battle. In like sort was it certainly known that by three strokes from
Beltenebros the battle was won; the first when he felled King Cildadan
at Galaor's feet, the second when he slew Sarmadan the Lion, the third
when succouring the King he lopt off the arm of Madanfabul the fierce
giant of the Vermilion Tower. That also was fulfilled which had been
written of Don Galaor, that his head should be in the power of him who
should strike the three strokes, for so it was when Amadis held it
in his lap as dead. Now, said Urganda, I will tell what shall come
to pass in process of time. Contention shall arise between the great
Serpent and the strong Lion, in which many fierce beasts shall take
part; anger and fury shall come upon them, so that many shall suffer
cruel death. The great Roman Fox shall be wounded by the claw of the
strong Lion, and his skin cruelly torn, whereby a part of the great
Serpent shall be in great affliction. In that time the gentle Sheep
covered with black wool shall come between them, who by his humble
and loving blandishments shall assuage the fury of their hearts. But
presently the Wolves shall come down from the mountains against the
great Serpent, who being with all his animals by them conquered, shall
be blocked up in one of his dens; and the tender Unicorn putting his
mouth to the ear of the strong Lion shall rouse him from his sleep, and
make him hasten to the succour of the great Serpent, whom he shall find
so wounded and bitten that the blood shall flow over his scales, and he
shall deliver him from the mouths of the Wolves, and they shall all be
destroyed. Then the great Serpent having his life restored, and casting
all his poison from his entrails shall consent that the white Doe shall
be placed in the cruel talons of the Lion. Now good King, let all this
be written, for so it must be. The King said it should be done, albeit
he understood it not. Time will come, she answered, when it shall be
manifest to all. Then looking at Amadis, who was musing, she said,
Amadis, you muse upon that which cannot avail you: let that be, and
think of a bargain you have to make. At that time you shall be brought
near to death for another's life, and for another's blood shall expend
your own, and of that bargain the martyrdom will be yours, and another
will have the gain; and the guerdon which you shall have will be wrath
and the long delay of your will; then shall that keen and beautiful
sword so pierce thy flesh and bones that you shall be poor of blood,
and in such plight that if half the world were yours you would give it
so that that sword were broken or thrown into some lake from whence it
could never be recovered. Look to it! for so it must be. Amadis saw
that all eyes were upon him, and he answered chearfully as he felt.
Lady, by what you have said of the past we may believe this also, but
I knowing that I am mortal, and that my life cannot be prolonged one
minute longer than it pleaseth God, am desirous to end it justly in
some great and honourable enterprize. It were as easy, quoth Urganda,
to rob your heart of its courage as to drain the sea dry. Then said she
to the King, Sir, I must depart; remember what I have said as one who
desire your honour and would serve you,—shut your ears to those whose
works you know to be evil! With that she departed, suffering none but
the four Knights whom she had chosen to conduct her to the shore; then
she embarked, and the ship put forth to sea, and was presently covered
with a great darkness.
_CHAPTER 19._
Some few days after, as King Lisuarte was consulting with his Knights
about the passage which he would make to the Isle of Mongaza, to
deliver King Arban of North Wales, and Angriote of Estravaus, they saw
a ship making toward the port, and went thither to see whom it brought.
When they came near a Damsel and two Squires were in the boat, and when
they landed the Damsel asked if King Lisuarte were there? They answered
yes, but they were all astonished at her greatness, for there was not a
Knight in the court who equalled her by a full palm in stature, and her
features and limbs were in proportion; she was fair enough, and richly
attired. Sir, said she to Lisuarte, I bring you a message which, if it
please you, I would deliver before the Queen. Be it so, said the King,
and he returned to the palace, and the Damsel with him. Then being in
presence of the Queen and of all the Knights and Ladies of the Court,
she asked if Amadis of Gaul were there, he who had called himself
Beltenebros. He answered, good Damsel I am he. She looked at him with
an evil eye and said, you may well be he! but now it will be seen if
you are as good as you are famous! Then she produced two letters with
seals of gold; the one she gave the King, the other to the Queen; they
were letters of credence, and the King bade her say her bidding.
Sir, quoth the Damsel, Gromadaza, the Giantess of the Boiling Lake,
and the fair Madasima, and Ardan Canileo the Dreadful, who is with
them for their defender, know that you design to come against their
country, and as that cannot be attempted without great loss, they are
willing to put it upon trial of a battle in this guise, that Ardan
Canileo shall combat Amadis of Gaul. If he conquer or slay him the
land shall be free, and he shall be allowed to carry his head to the
Boiling Lake; if he be conquered or slain himself, the land shall be
yours, and King Arban of North Wales, and Angriote of Estravaus shall
be delivered. They shall be brought hither, and if Amadis loves them
as they believe, and will fulfill the hope they have in him, he will
accept the battle to deliver two such friends; if he be conquered,
Ardan Canileo will still hold them prisoners, and if he will not accept
the defiance he shall presently see their heads cut off before him.
Good Damsel, quoth Amadis, if I accept the battle, how shall the King
be certain that the terms will be accomplished? She answered, the fair
Madasima, with twelve Damsels of great birth, will put themselves as
prisoners in the Queen's power, in security that the terms shall be
observed, otherwise they are content to lose their heads, and they
demand no other assurance than that she may carry away your head if
you be overcome; and moreover the old giant Andanguel and his two
sons will enter the King's prisons, and nine Knights beside, who have
the towns and castles of the Island in their keeping. Said Amadis, if
this be done the security is sufficient; but from me you shall have
no answer unless you and your Squires come and eat with me. Why do
you invite us? quoth she; this is no wisdom, your trouble will all be
lost, for I hate you to death. Good Damsel, said Amadis, I am sorry
therefore, for I love you, and will show you all the honour that I can;
if you desire to be answered you must grant this. I grant it, quoth
she, more to get my answer than for any good will. Then said Amadis,
good Damsel to venture myself for two such friends, and to increase
the dominions of the King is a just thing, and therefore I undertake
the battle in the name of God, let therefore those whom you have named
come as hostages. Truly you have answered to my will, replied the
Damsel; but let the King promise, that if you fail to perform your word
he will never protect you against the kindred of Famongomadan. That
promise, quoth Amadis, may be excused, the King would have no one in
his company who lacked truth: now let us go eat, for it is time.—I will
go, more joyfully than I expected; to-morrow Madasima and her Damsels
will be here, and the Knights will put themselves in the King's hands,
for Ardan Canileo would have the battle without delay; but you must
give him a safe conduct from all but Amadis, whose head he will take
from hence. Don Bruneo of Bonamar answered, Lady Damsel, sometimes it
happens that he who thinks to take away anothers head loses his own,
and so it may fall out to Ardan Canileo. Amadis besought him to be
silent, but the Damsel replied to Bruneo, who are you who speak for
Amadis? A Knight, quoth he, who would willingly bear a part in the
battle if Ardan Canileo will bring a companion. She answered, you may
be excused from that battle, but if you are desirous of combat, after
that is finished I will produce a brother of mine to answer you, as
much the mortal enemy of Amadis as you are his friend, and one who will
prevent you from taking up the quarrel again. Good Damsel, quoth Don
Bruneo, your brother had need be as you boast to perform all that you
have promised! See, here is my gage that I defy him, and he stretched
out the end of his cloak towards the King. The Damsel took a silver net
from her head—here Sir, you see mine that I will make good my words.
The King took the pledges, though against his will, for he thought the
combat of Amadis against Ardan Canileo enough to trouble him, for that
enemy was so dreadful that for four years he had found no Knight hardy
enough to do battle against him.
This being settled Amadis took the Damsel to his lodgings, which he
ought not to have done for the best castle in his father's lands; and
to do her more honour he lodged her in the Chamber where Gandalin kept
his arms and accoutrements. She looking round saw the sword of Amadis,
and seeing how strange a one it was, she told her two Squires, and
the others who were present, to leave her alone[288:A] for a little
while; when they were gone she drew the sword, and leaving the sheath
and belt so that the theft might not be discovered, she wrapt it under
her mantle; then opening the door she gave it secretly to one of her
Squires under his cloak, and bade him carry it to the vessel—this she
spake softly; then spake aloud, go bring me my cup! and all present
thought that the Squire was sent for that. Then Amadis and Branfil
entered, and they made the Damsel be seated on the Estrado, and
Amadis asked at what hour of the morrow Madasima would arrive.—Before
breakfast: but why ask you?—Because we would go out to receive her and
show her every honour, that if she have received any displeasure from
me I may make her such amends as she shall demand. If you keep your
promise, quoth she, and Ardan Canileo be what he always hath been in
arms, you will give her your head for amends; any other amends will
be good for little. That, said Amadis, I shall keep if I can; but if
it could be I should gladly obtain her pardon. With that he went out,
leaving Enil and others to attend her, but she was so desirous to be
gone, that the number of dishes provoked her, and as soon as the cloths
were removed she rose and said to Enil, Knight, tell Amadis that I am
gone, and that all the pains he has taken to please me are lost. God
save me, quoth Enil, as I believe it! and whoever should strive to
please such a one as you would lose his pains. She answered, you please
me little, and he still less! Enil replied, neither he nor I nor any
one else can like so insolent a Damsel. With these words they parted.
[288:A] Y pensando que alguna cosa de las naturales que no se
pueden escusar hazer queria, dexaron la sola.
The Damsel entered the ship glad for the sword which she had stolen,
and she told Ardan Canileo and Madasima how she had sped. Ardan thanked
her for what she had done, and he said to Madasima, my Lady, account
me not for a Knight if I do not bring you back with honour; and if I
give you not the head of Amadis in less time than a man can go half a
league, how swift soever he be, never grant me your love. She answered
him not, for albeit she greatly desired vengeance for the death of her
father and her brother, yet for nothing in the world would she have
seen herself married to Ardan Canileo, for she was fair and noble, and
he foul and deformed and hideous, that there was none like him, and
this agreement was made at her mother's will, not at her own, who had
promised, if he would defend and revenge her, to give him Madasima and
leave him all her lands. Now whereas this Ardan Canileo was a Knight
famous in the world, and of great prowess, the history shall tell you
of what land he was native, and the fashion of his body and face,
and what else to him appertaineth. Know then that he was born in the
province called Canileo, of the blood of the Giants, who abound there
more than in other parts; he was not unreasonably great of body, albeit
exceeding in stature any man who was not a giant; his limbs were large,
and his breast broad, and his shoulders square, and his hands and legs
proportioned; his face was large and flat and like a dog, wherefore
he was called Canileo, and his nose was flat and spreading, and his
colour purple freckled with black spots, which were all over his face
and neck and hands; his look was fierce like a lion, and his lips were
thick and curling out, and his hair so woolly that it could scarcely
be combed, and the beard like it. He was now five and thirty years
old, and for ten years past neither Knight nor Giant had been able
to withstand him, and so bony was he that there was scarcely a horse
could carry his weight. When the Insolent Damsel heard him promise the
head of Amadis to Madasima, she said to him, we may well hope so Sir,
since Fortune already shows herself adverse to your enemy. Here is his
good sword which I bring you, which could not have been gained for you
without great mystery of his ill fate, and your good fortune; then she
gave it him and related how she had stolen it. He took it and replied,
I thank thee for the gift, more for the good manner in which you took
it than for any fear I have of a battle against a single Knight. Then
he ordered tents to be taken from the ship, and pitched in a plain near
the town, and there they all went with their horses and palfreys, and
the arms of Ardan Canileo, expecting the next day to appear before King
Lisuarte. Right joyful was Ardan that the combat was thus appointed,
and for two reasons: the one because he made no doubt that he should
carry off the head of Amadis, who being so famous all his glory would
remain upon him, and the other because he should win the fair Madasima
whom he loved so well.
Meantime Amadis was with his friends who greatly feared this combat,
so dangerous did they esteem it. Presently Agrayes, and Don Florestan,
and Galvanes Lackland, and Don Guilan the Pensive, came in, knowing
nothing of what had past, for they had been hunting in the forest;
but when they heard how the combat had been appointed, they complained
that it had not been fixed for a greater number of Knights, that they
might have entered it, and he who most passionately lamented this was
Don Guilan who had heard how Ardan Canileo was the strongest of any
Knight in arms, and the most powerful, and it grieved him to death, for
he thought that Amadis would never escape with life from him, fighting
him man to man in lists, and he greatly wished to share his fortune if
Ardan had brought a companion. Don Florestan too exclaimed in great
anger, as God shall save me, brother, you think me of no account as a
Knight, or you do not love me, since you did not remember me on such
an occasion! you make me perceive that it is bootless to accompany you
longer, for you always withhold me from such perils. Agrayes also and
Don Galvanes complained in the like manner. Sirs, quoth Amadis, you
blame me with little cause; the combat was demanded of me alone, so
that without showing cowardice I could not otherwise have answered;
else, if I might have had assistance whom else should I have looked
to but you, whose great valour might have aided mine in danger. Thus
having excused himself he said, it will be well that we ride forward
to-morrow before the King goes forth, to meet Madasima, who is greatly
esteemed by all who know her.
In the morning they apparalled themselves richly, and having heard
mass mounted on palfreys and rode to receive Madasima. Don Bruneo of
Bonamar went with them and his brother Branfil, and Enil, who was a
goodly Knight and of great worth, and of chearful heart, so that he
was beloved and esteemed by all, so they were eight companions. And as
they drew nigh the tents they saw Madasima coming, and Ardan Canileo
and their company. Madasima was arrayed in black, mourning for her
father and brother, but her beauty was so lively and excellent that
it was a marvel, and her Damsels went near her all drest in the same
cloth. Ardan Canileo led her bridle, and there came the old Giant and
his sons, and the nine Knights who were to be hostages. As they drew
near to each other the Knights made their obeisance, and she in like
manner bowed to them with good semblance; then Amadis approached her
and said, Lady, if you are praised it is with great reason I see, and
happy ought he to be esteemed who is allowed to honour and serve you;
that would I willingly do in what it might please you to command me.
Ardan Canileo, who looked at him and saw how handsome he was, so that
he had seen none like him, was nothing pleased at this. Knight, quoth
he, give back, and dare not speak to one whom you know not. It is that
we may know her and serve her, replied Amadis, that we are come. And
who are you? cried Ardan scornfully; let me know if you are worthy to
serve her? Such as I am, quoth Amadis, I have the will to serve her,
and shall not cease to have that will, however unworthy I may be, and
since you ask who I am, tell me who are you?—I am Ardan Canileo, who
can better serve her in a day than you can in your whole life, though
you were of twice your worth.—That may well be: but your great service
would not proceed from so good a heart as my trifling one, this is
plain from your pride and evil mind. Know that I am Amadis of Gaul of
whom you have demanded battle. If I have offended and grieved that Lady
by doing that which without great shame I could not have left undone,
right willingly would I atone for it by some good service. Ardan
Canileo answered, if you dare perform your promise, certainly she shall
receive atonement with your head which I will give her. That amends,
quoth Amadis, she shall not have with my good pleasure, but she shall
receive a greater; for I will break off your marriage. No man can so
lack judgment as to hold it good that your beauty and hers should be
united! At this Madasima being nothing displeased, laughed a little,
and her Damsels likewise, but Ardan became so wroth that his whole body
shook, and his face became so exceeding terrible, that many thought
Amadis was nothing in comparison with him, and that this would without
doubt be his last battle, and the last day of his life.
Thus they proceeded till they came before the King, to whom Ardan
Canileo said, you see here the Knights ready to become your hostages,
if Amadis dare keep his word. Then Amadis came forth and answered,
you see me here: let the battle be without delay, and I tell you
that though I had not promised it, I would undertake it now solely
to save Madasima from so monstrous a marriage; but let King Arban of
North Wales, and Angriote of Estravaus be brought here, that they
may be delivered if I conquer. They shall come, replied Ardan, but
let Madasima be where she may see the combat and the vengeance which
I shall take for her. So the old Giant and his sons, and the nine
Knights put themselves in the King's power, and Madasima and the
Damsels went to the Queen, and so meekly and decorously did Madasima
demean herself, that albeit by her means Amadis was brought into this
great danger, yet were they greatly pleased with her, and did her all
honour. But Oriana and Mabilia seeing the fierceness of Ardan Canileo
were greatly affrighted and retired in great fear and weeping to their
chamber, for they thought the strength of Amadis was not enough to
resist that Devil: yet did they remember his good fortune, how often it
had brought him off with honour, and Mabilia comforted her friend the
best she could. The following day was appointed for the battle; King
Lisuarte ordered his huntsmen and bowyers to surround the lists with
chains and stakes, that neither Knight might lose honour by the fault
of his horse. The lists were before the palace, and when Oriana saw
them preparing them from her window, the thought of how great a danger
was there designed for her Amadis so overpowered her, that she fell
almost senseless in Mabilia's arms.
Lisuarte went to the lodging of Amadis where many Knights were with
him, and said to him, that as the Queen and his daughter, and Queen
Briolania and the other Dames and Damsels would pass that night in
the chapel, beseeching God to preserve their Knight, he would have
him return in his company to the palace, and with him Florestan and
Agrayes, and Don Galvanes, and Guilan and Enil, and that there they
should regale themselves, and he desired Amadis to send his armour to
the chapel, that he might arm himself to-morrow before the Virgin Mary,
that so she and her glorious son might be his protectors. They went
therefore with the King, and Amadis ordered Gandalin to carry his arms
thither as Lisuarte had advised. But he taking them in obedience missed
the sword from the scabbard, whereat so amazed was he and exceeding
sorrowful that he wished himself dead, not only because the loss fell
out at a time of such danger, but because he held it as a sign that
his Master's death was nigh at hand. He sought for it every where, and
enquired of all who might know any thing; but when he could learn no
tidings he was on the point of throwing himself from a window, if the
thought had not come upon him that in that case he should destroy his
soul; forthwith in trouble of heart he went to the palace, and calling
Amadis apart said to him, Cut off my head Sir, for I am a traitor to
you; and if you do not kill me I must slay myself. How now? quoth
Amadis: are you mad? or what mishap is this? Better Sir, he said, that
I were mad or dead than that such a mishap should have befallen. I
have lost your sword, it has been stolen from the scabbard. Is it for
this you are so distressed? replied Amadis, I thought something worse
had chanced; trouble yourself no more, there will be no want of another
wherewith God will assist me, if it be his good pleasure. But though
he spake thus to comfort Gandalin, yet was he grieved at heart for the
loss of that sword, as well for the lack of it now in such need, being
one of the best in the world, as because he had won it by the force of
his true love, and it was a comfort to him to look at it, and remember
that when he was absent from his Lady. Howbeit he bade Gandalin say
nothing thereof to any person, but bring him the scabbard, and he bade
him learn of the Queen if he could have the sword which Don Guilan had
brought there together with his own arms; and if he could see Oriana
he made him request her in his name that she would be somewhere where
he might see her when he was in the lists, for the sight of her would
make him become conqueror in that or in a worse danger. Gandalin went
to perform his bidding, and the Queen commanded the sword should be
given him; but Briolania and Olinda said to him, Ah Gandalin, what
think you can your Master do against that Devil? he answered smiling,
and with a chearful countenance, Ladies, this is not the first
perilous enterprise which he hath undertaken, and as God as hitherto
preserved him so he will now. God grant it, cried they. Then went he
to Mabilia and told her what his Master requested of Oriana, and then
returned to Amadis, and said that all things were done as he desired,
whereat he had great pleasure and took more courage, knowing that his
Lady would be where he might see her from the lists. Amadis then took
the King aside, and said to him, Sir, I have lost my sword, and knew
it not till now; they have stolen it and left the sheath. The King
was grieved thereat and answered him, although I had determined and
promised never to give my sword to any Knight who was to fight man to
man before me, yet will I now give it you, remembering how many dangers
you have encountered for my sake. God forbid, quoth Amadis, that I who
ought to maintain your royal word should make you break it, and that
too when you have pledged it before so many good men. The tears came
into Lisuarte's eyes, and he said, such a man are you for maintaining
justice and right! but what will you do?—I have here the sword which
was laid in the Ark with me, which Don Guilan brought hither, herewith
and with your prayers to the Lord which will avail before him, I may
be assisted. Then he placed the sword in the sheath, which became it
well, although the sword was somewhat short, and the King was glad he
took the sheath because of its virtue, which would protect him from
exceeding heat or cold, for the bones of the serpents whereof it was
made were of such a constellation; but of very different goodness was
this sword from the other.
Thus they passed that day till it was the hour of sleep, and then all
those Knights had their arms around the King's bed. But all that night
Ardan Canileo had merry-making in his tents, with music and dancing,
and ever at the end of his songs his people all cried out, come
Morning, come! and let the day be clear, that Ardan Canileo may perform
what he has promised to the fair Madasima! but it fell out otherwise
than they expected. That night Amadis slept in the King's chamber, but
the sleep which he slept was of no avail, for presently at midnight he
rose without speaking, and went to the chapel, and having awakened the
chaplain confessed all his sins to him, and there they both were before
the altar of the Virgin Mary making prayers, and beseeching her to be
his patroness in this battle. When it was dawn the King and those other
Knights arose, and heard mass, and Amadis was armed by such Knights as
well knew how to do it; but before his breast-plate was put on Mabilia
came up and hung round his neck certain reliques shrined with gold,
saying, that the Queen her mother had sent them to her by the Damsel of
Denmark; but it was not so, for Elisena had given them to Amadis when
she knew him for her son, and he gave them to Oriana when he delivered
her from Arcalaus. When he was armed they brought him a goodly horse,
which Corisanda had sent with other presents to her friend Florestan.
Florestan carried his lance, and Don Guilan his shield, and Don Bruneo
his helmet, and the King went before on a great horse, holding a wand
in his hand. All the people of the court and town were assembled about
the lists to see the battle, and the Dames and Damsels were at the
windows, and the fair Oriana and Mabilia were at their chamber window,
and with the Queen were Briolania and Madasima, and other princesses.
As Amadis came up to the lists they loosened one of the chains and he
entered and took his arms, and as he put on his helmet he looked at
his Lady, and felt therewith such strength as though no one in the
world could withstand him. Then the Judges entered the field, who were
to assign to each his right; they were three in number, that good
old man Don Grumedan, who was well skilled in such things, and Don
Quadragante, who was now the King's vassal, and Brandoyuas; then came
Ardan Canileo well armed, and upon a great horse: his harness was of
thick mail, and his shield and helmet were of steel, so polished that
it was bright like looking-glass; and he had girded at his side the
good sword of Amadis, which the Damsel had stolen, and he bent his huge
lance as if he would have broken it, and thus he entered the lists.
When Oriana saw him, she said in great agony, ah my friend, how fierce
and terribly my death approaches, unless God in his mercy prevent
it. Leave this, quoth Mabilia, and make good chear, for so shall you
encourage your friend.
Then Don Grumedan led Amadis to one end of the lists, and Brandoyuas
placed Ardan Canileo at the other, with their horses heads fronting
each other; and Quadragante at an equal distance between them held a
trumpet in his hand to sound the signal. Amadis, who was looking at
his Lady, exclaimed, What is Quadragante about that he does not blow
the trumpet? Quadragante then blew the blast, and the two Knights ran
full speed, and encountered lance against shield so fiercely that
the lances shivered, and they hurtled with such force that the horse
of Ardan Canileo fell and broke his neck and died, and the horse of
Amadis broke his shoulder and could not rise. Amadis presently arose,
though with some difficulty, for a truncheon of the lance was sticking
in his shield, and through the lappets of his armour, though it had
not reached the flesh; he plucked it out, and laid hand to sword and
made at Ardan, who had risen hardly and was adjusting his helmet.
But Ardan seeing his approach drew his sword, and they joined battle
so furiously that there was not a man who saw them but was greatly
amazed, for their strokes fell so fierce and so fast that flames of
fire seemed to proceed from their helmets and swords as if they burnt,
and chiefly from the shield of Ardan Canileo, for that being of steel,
and the blows of Amadis so rapid and heavy, it appeared as if the whole
shield and arm were in a blaze of fire, but the great hardness of the
shield protected him and saved his body, which was to the mortal evil
of Amadis; for as his arms were not so good, and as Ardan had one of
the best swords in the world, never blow reached him that did not
pierce through and reach his flesh, so that in many parts the blood
ran down, and his shield was all hacked. The sword of Amadis could
make no impression upon the shield and helmet of his enemy, and though
his own harness was of thick and strong mail, it was pierced in more
than ten places, and the blood streamed from them all. What then most
profited Amadis was his activity, for by that he made Ardan miss all
his heaviest blows, though Ardan was well practised and expert with
the sword. Thus they continued till the hour of tierce, striking and
foyning, and grappling and struggling so manfully that Ardan Canileo
was in great amazement, for he had never before found Knight nor
Giant so strong as to resist him thus much; and what made him doubt
the issue was, that he always found his antagonist more active and
stronger than at the beginning, whereas he himself waxed weary and
faint, being full of blood. Then Madasima knew that he had boasted
vainly when he promised to conquer Amadis before the swiftest footman
could run half a league, whereat she was little grieved, nor would she
though Ardan were to lose his own head there, for such was her mind,
that she would rather lose all her lands than be joined in marriage
with such as he. The Knights still continued in battle, striking at
each other in every part where they could work most harm, each striving
for the other's death; and if Amadis had then had arms good as his
own activity and breath, Ardan could not have held the field against
him, but all his efforts were now needed, for his arms were broken,
and his shield broken, and the blood flowing from many wounds, and he
had to deal with a Knight fierce and strong in battle. When Oriana
saw him in such plight her heart failed her for sore anguish, and she
threw herself upon the ground, and beat her face, thinking that Amadis
was come to his death. Mabilia seeing this, notwithstanding her own
exceeding trouble, put on an appearance of much anger, and told her
that at such a time and in such danger she ought not to forsake her
lover, and because she could not endure to see his danger, Mabilia
made her stand with her back to the window that Amadis might see her
long hair. At this time Brandoyuas, who was one of the Judges, said,
I am grieved to see the arms and shield of Amadis so battered! and I,
quoth Grumedan, I am much troubled. Sirs, said Quadragante, I have
proved Amadis in combat, and his strength seems to double while he
fights, and of all Knights whom I have seen he endures the best, and
is the best breathed; he is now in his full strength, which is not the
case with Ardan, if any fault be in Amadis it is that he is too eager:
he should suffer his enemy to press on him, and then his own weight
would weary Ardan. But his great courage will not let him thus spare
himself. When Oriana and Mabilia heard these words they were greatly
comforted; but Amadis, who had seen his Lady retire from the window,
knew that it was for sorrow at beholding him, and he made a blow at
Ardan with exceeding fury, and smote him so rudely upon the helmet that
he brought him down upon one knee, but that blow was so mighty, and
the helmet so hard, that the sword broke in three pieces, and a piece
only remained in his hand. Then was Amadis in all fear of death, and
they who beheld him expected his death also. When Ardan saw this he
rose and drew back, and took his shield by the straps, and brandishing
his sword cried aloud to Amadis, Look! here is the good sword which
thou hast won to thy own destruction. Look at it! this is it, and thou
shalt die by it. Come, Lady Madasima! come to the window, and you shall
behold the full vengeance which I will give you! When Madasima heard
this she fell at the Queen's feet, and besought her to protect her from
Ardan, which, said she, you may lawfully do, for Ardan promised to win
the battle before a man could run half a league, and it has now lasted
four hours. I hear you, replied Brisena, and will do what is just. But
when Amadis saw in what plight he stood, his arms in pieces and without
a sword, he remembered the words of Urganda when she told him that
he would give half the world if it were his, so that that sword were
sunk in a lake; and he looked toward Oriana's window, and seeing her
back towards him, knew why she had turned away, and his courage revived
so that he resolved to die rather than fail to do his utmost. He made
at Ardan Canileo as if he were about to strike him; Ardan raised his
sword and awaited him, and struck at him as he came up, but Amadis bent
aside and closed with him so close that Ardan could not interpose his
sword, and he seized the shield by the rim, and plucked it with such
force that he tore it from his arm and well nigh brought him to the
ground, then he drew back, and put that shield upon his own arm, and
took up the truncheon of a lance which had its point, and again turned
to Ardan, being now defended by Ardan's shield. Ardan in great fury
for this loss ran at him thinking to smite him on the helmet; Amadis
caught the blow upon his shield, and though it was of fine steel, such
was the temper of that good sword that it pierced through the rim and
entered three fingers' depth, and with the broken lance Amadis wounded
him in the right arm by the wrist, thrusting the iron half through
between the two bones, therewith Ardan lost all power to pluck the
sword out, and Amadis forced it from his hand; if he was then right
glad and satisfied need neither be asked nor said; he cast away the
broken lance, and drew the sword from the shield, thanking God for his
mercy. Mabilia, who beheld, caught hold of Oriana and made her turn
and see her lover obtain this victory over so imminent a danger. Ardan
Canileo grew faint as he beheld his death at hand, howbeit he attempted
to recover the shield in the like manner as he had lost it, but Amadis
smote him upon the left shoulder, and cut through armour, and flesh and
bone. Ardan felt the use of his arm was gone, and he fled round the
lists, fearing that good sword. Amadis followed close and caught him
by the helmet, and plucked it off, and brought him to the ground at
his feet, then knelt upon him and cut off his head, to the great joy
of all, especially of King Arban of North Wales, and Angriote, who had
endured great agony while they witnessed the danger of Amadis. Then
Amadis cast the head out of the lists, and he dragged the body to a
rock and threw it into the sea, then he wiped the blood from his sword
and placed it in its sheath.
The King sent him a horse, on which he rode well accompanied to his
lodging, but he was sore wounded and had lost much blood. With him he
took King Arban and Angriote, whom he had delivered from their cruel
chains. Brisena sent for her nephew Arban, and Angriote remained in the
chamber of his true friend Amadis, and there were they both healed; and
they were lovingly visited there by many Knights and Dames and Damsels
of the court, and his cousin Mabilia came to Amadis, and brought with
her that true medicine wherewith his heart could heal all lesser evils.
_CHAPTER 20._
On the day after the battle Don Bruneo of Bonamar appeared before
the King, and there he found the Insolent Damsel, who said that her
brother was ready to do combat with him, and take that poor vengeance
for Ardan Canileo. Forthwith they armed and went to the field, Don
Bruneo accompanied by many good Knights, and Madaman the Envious, for
so he was called, by them who bore his arms. At the first encounter
Madaman was thrown and Bruneo slightly hurt in the breast; he kept his
seat, but when he turned the reins Madaman cried out to him, sword in
hand, Don Bruneo, if you would not lose your horse, alight or let me
mount. Take your own choice, quoth Bruneo. Alight then, said Madaman,
for being of huge stature he thought to have the advantage afoot; then
began a brave battle, and while they were thus engaged there happened
a strange thing, whereby it was manifested that beasts know their
masters, for the horses being loose in the field attacked each other,
fighting with their feet and teeth so furiously that all were amazed
thereat, and this lasted till Madaman's horse being no longer able
to hold out ran away, and in his fear leaped over the barriers, the
which, all they who wished for the victory of Bruneo, held as a good
sign; and turning their eyes now to the two combatants they saw how
Don Bruneo prest upon the enemy hard, so that Madaman drew back and
said, Why do you fatigue yourself? is not the day long enough? Hold
awhile and let us rest; look at your arms and the blood which you have
lost, and you will find it needful. Madaman, quoth he, if our combat
were of another nature you should find in me all courtesy, but for
this pride and hatred I will not suffer thee to rest, and show thy own
faint-heartedness, lest my own fame should be lessened; with that he
prest upon him and foyned so fast at him, that Madaman had enough to
do to defend himself from the blows; and he thinking he might protect
himself better among the rocks drew back towards the cliff, and there
he stood upon the edge, being affrighted at the depth, till Bruneo came
up, and with his shield and hand thrust him over, so that he was all
shattered before he reached the water; then Bruneo knelt and returned
thanks to God.
But when Matalesa the Insolent Damsel beheld the fall of her brother,
she ran furiously to the cliff and looked over, and seeing the bloody
fragments floating on the waves, she caught up his sword which he had
dropt and cried, Here, where the blood of my Uncle Ardan Canileo and
my brother has been shed, shall mine be shed also, that my soul may
be with theirs; and she ran herself through, and fell backward into
the sea. Don Bruneo then rode to the lodging of Amadis, and his bed
was placed by the beds of Amadis and Angriote, and there were they all
healed, and during their confinement the Knights and Ladies of the
court often went there to amuse them.
Now Briolania perceiving that the malady of her love increased, with
the advice of Amadis departed for her own kingdom; but she determined
first to see the wonders of the Firm Island, and prove the Forbidden
Chamber. So she took Enil with her, and promised to tell Oriana all
that she should see there, as shall be related hereafter.
As this history now proceeds you will see the little power of human
wisdom when it pleases God to leave man to himself. You have heard how
King Lisuarte being a prince, and possessing nothing but his arms and
his horse, and going about with only a few servants seeking adventures,
came to Denmark, where Brisena, the King's daughter, preferred him
to all her many suitors, and chose him for her husband; this was his
first good fortune. But ere long his brother died, and he became King
of Great Britain, and subdued other Kingdoms, and the sons of Kings,
and Princes, and Dukes, abode in his court, so that his name was famous
above all Emperors and Kings in the world. Now there were two Knights
in his court who had served his brother King Falangris, and for this,
and because of their age more than for their goodness, they were of
Lisuarte's counsel: the one was named Brocadan, the other Gandandel.
This Gandandel had two sons who were thought passing good Knights in
arms, before Amadis and those of his lineage arrived there, whose
exceeding worth and courage had now made them be forgotten. On this
account Gandandel neither fearing God nor regarding his duty to the
King, nor the good deeds done by Amadis to himself, devised in his evil
heart a foul treason. He led the King apart and said to him, Sir, I
have long forborne to speak to you upon this matter, hoping some other
remedy might be devised, and therein have I greatly sinned against
you; but I should sin both against you and God if I were longer to
keep silence, and I have been always careful to preserve my soul and
honour, and do evil to no one, so that my judgment is free from all
passion. You know Sir what great quarrels have subsisted between the
kingdoms of Gaul and Great Britain, because that country ought to be
subject to this as all the other neighbouring countries are, and this
is an evil which will never be thoroughly healed till it be so. But now
Amadis, who is not only a native of Gaul, but the chief person of his
lineage, is come hither with his kinsmen, and has acquired such power
that the kingdom is in his hand, as if he were right heir thereto. True
it is that from him and his friends I have never received any wrong,
but great honour and pleasure; but you are my natural Lord, and I must
discharge my duty lest I fall into a wretched plight in this world, and
my soul be cast into hell in the other. The King without any seeming
alteration answered him, These Knights have already served me well to
my honour and profit, so that I cannot think of them otherwise than
well. Sir, quoth Gandandel, that is the worst sign, for if they did
any thing against your service you would be upon your guard against
them, but the treachery is concealed under their good services. Thus
have you heard all the talk, for the King answered nothing farther.
But Gandandel took counsel with his cousin Brocadan, whose evil mind
was like his own, and they two both working upon the King to the
same effect wrought in him a great change against those who had done
him such services, so that he seemed to have forgotten how Galaor
rescued him from the ten Knights of Arcalaus, and Amadis from the arms
of Madanfabul, although in both cases they saved his life and his
[315:A]kingdoms.
[315:A] Here follows a column of caution against evil
Counsellors.
So much was Lisuarte moved thereby that he now began to hate Amadis and
his friends, and he left off visiting Amadis where he lay wounded, and
would pass by his lodging without asking how he fared. All who saw this
novelty marvelled much thereat, and they sometimes talked concerning it
before Amadis, but he knowing his own true meaning would not believe
but that the King also was like himself, and that business occupied
him, and this he said to his friends, and particularly to Angriote of
Estravaus, who was the most troubled. While things were in this state
King Lisuarte sent for Madasima and her Damsels, and the old Giant and
his sons, and the nine Knights whom he held as hostages, and he told
them that if they did not forthwith cause the Island of Mongaza to be
given up to him, according to terms, he would have their heads cut off;
which, when Madasima heard, the tears came abundantly, and not knowing
what to reply her flesh all shook with exceeding fear. But Andaguel
the old Giant replied, that if he would send him with a certain force
he would cause the Island to be surrendered to him, or else return
again. The King therefore dismissed him with this force, and Madasima
returned to prison, accompanied by many Knights, among whom was Don
Galvanes Lackland; he beholding the tears on that fair face was moved
to exceeding pity, and yielded up that liberty which he had before
preserved, and without delay speaking apart to her, he opened his
heart and said, that if it pleased her to marry him he would so deal
that both her life and lands should be safe. Madasima, who well knew
his great worth, and of what lineage he was, was nothing averse; then
Galvanes knelt down and kissed her hand, and it was not long before
he acquainted Amadis and Agrayes of his love, and besought them to
enable him to perform what he had promised as they regarded his life.
They marvelling at this sudden change told him that, considering his
good services to King Lisuarte, what he required was a little thing,
especially as the Lordship of the Island would remain to the King, and
Amadis promised, as soon as he could ride, to request the boon for him.
Meantime Gandandel often went to visit Amadis with semblance of great
regard, and always spoke to him of the King as being changed, and
warned him to beware of him lest some evil should happen, which,
said the old traitor, would be a great grief to me, because of the
many favours I and my sons have received at your hands; but never
could he kindle any wrath or suspicion in the mind of Amadis, though
he persisted so that Amadis grew angry at him, and told him to say
no more, for if all in the world were to tell him so he never would
believe that so wise and good a King could be moved against one, who
sleeping and waking had no thought of any thing but his service. After
some days, when the three Knights were healed of their wounds, they
rode out one morning being richly apparelled, and after hearing mass
went to the palace, where they were right welcomed by all except by
the King, who neither looked at them nor received them as he was wont.
Amadis did not conceive that this proceeded from any ill will, but that
traitor Gandandel came up to him, and embracing him, said with a smile,
people are sometimes not believed when they tell the truth. Amadis made
him no answer, and he seeing how Angriote and Don Bruneo were offended
that Lisuarte did not notice them, went up to the King and said, so
that no one could hear him, Do you not see Sir how those Knights look
towards you? Lisuarte did not reply, and Amadis then, who suspected
no evil, came up with Galvanes and Agrayes and said courteously, Sir,
if it please you we would speak with you, and let whom you will be
present; the King said, Gandandel and Brocadan; thereat was Amadis
well pleased, for he believed them to be his true friends. Then they
went together into a garden, where the King seated himself under a
tree, and they round about him, and Amadis said, Sir, it has not been
my fortune to serve you according to my good will, yet though I may
not have deserved it, relying upon your virtue and great nobleness, I
venture to ask a boon, which shall be to your service, and wherein you
shall show great courtesy and do what is right. Certes, said Gandandel,
if it be as you say you ask a fair boon, but let the King know what
you would have. Sir, replied Amadis, what I and Agrayes and Galvanes,
who have served you also, now request, is the Island of Mongaza, that
reserving to yourself the Lordship you would give it with Madasima in
marriage to Don Galvanes, wherein you will show favour to him who is
of such lineage and hath no lands, and will gain a good vassal for
yourself, and also deal courteously with Madasima, who by us hath been
disherited. Gandandel and Brocadan hearing this looked at the King,
and made signs to him that he should not grant it; but he remained
silent for awhile, calling to mind the great worth of Galvanes, and the
services which he had received from him, and how Amadis had won that
Island with the extreme peril of his life, and knowing also that what
they asked was a reasonable and becoming thing, and just. But because
his will was perverted he answered as one who had no inclination to
consent, He is not wise who asks for what he cannot have. I say this
with respect to you, for you ask that which five days ago I promised
the Queen for her daughter Leonoreta; this answer he made to excuse
himself, not because it was true. At this Gandandel and Brocadan were
well pleased, and made signs to him that he had said well, but Agrayes,
whose heart was warm, when he heard with how little courtesy the
King had refused them would not keep silence. You make us feel Sir,
quoth he, that our services will profit us little here; if my advice
be taken, our lives shall be differently employed. Nephew, exclaimed
Galvanes, services are worth little when they are done to those who
know not how to reward them: men should look where they bestow them.
Sirs, quoth Amadis, do not complain that the King cannot give you
what he hath already promised to another. I will ask the King to give
you Madasima and let him keep the land, and I will give you the Firm
Island till the King shall have something else to bestow upon you. The
King answered, Madasima is in my prison in hostage for her lands, and
if they be not surrendered I will have her head cut off. Then Amadis
replied, of a truth Sir you should have answered us more courteously,
and you would not have committed this wrong if you had known us better.
If I do not know you, said Lisuarte, the world is wide enough; go
through it, and look for those who may know you better. Certes Sir,
quoth Amadis, till now I thought there was no King in the world who had
wisdom such as yours; but seeing how strangely different you are from
what I believed, since you are in this new mood we must seek a new way
of life. Lisuarte answered, Do your own will as I shall mine, and he
rose angrily and went to the Queen.
Gandandel and Brocadan commended him much for what he had done in thus
dismissing such dangerous enemies, and he told Brisena all that had
passed, and how he rejoiced thereat. But she told him that what he
rejoiced at was to her cause for sorrow, for Amadis and his friends had
ever served him faithfully and well; and that other Knights seeing how
they were recompensed would have great reason to seek one who would
know and reward them better. Say no more, cried he, I know what I am
doing, and remember to say what I tell you, that you asked that Island
for Leonoreta, and that I have given it her. I will do as you command
me, replied Brisena, but God grant that it come to good!
Amadis returned to his lodging in a more melancholy mood than he was
wont, he would say nothing to the Knights of his company till he had
spoken with Oriana, so calling Durin aside he bade him tell Mabilia
that he must see Oriana that night, and that they should expect him
by the water course in the garden. Then he ate and regaled with the
Knights as he used to do, and he desired them to assemble there on the
morrow for he had something to impart to them. When day was gone and
night was come, after they had retired and all were at rest, he went
with Gandalin to the water course, and having entered it went forthwith
to the chamber of Oriana, where she with as true love expected him; and
being in her arms she asked him why he had sent that message by Durin,
and he told her all that had past. Now Lady mine, said he, since it
is so that for my honour I must depart I beseech you do not command
me otherwise, for I am more yours than my own, and if I am shamed the
shame will be yours also. But Oriana, though she felt as though her
heart were breaking, took courage as she could and answered, True
friend, with little reason can you complain of my father, for it is
not him but me whom you have served, for my sake you abode here, and
for my sake have done so many great actions, and from me you have had
your guerdon, and shall have while I live; yet should not my father
have done thus, seeing what you have been to him. Howbeit, though your
absence will be like as if my heart were breaking, I will regard reason
more than my unbounded love. Do as you think best! my father will find
when you are gone that all that is left will be to him cause of sorrow
and evil! Amadis kissed her hands; my own true Lady many and great
kindnesses have I received from you which have saved me from death,
but for this I thank you above all, inasmuch as honour is above all
delights. Thus past they that night mingling tears with their love,
thinking of the long solitude that was to come, and towards day-break
Amadis rose; that dear cousin Mabilia and the Damsel of Denmark went
out with him, and he embraced them, and commended Oriana to their
consolations, and so they parted weeping.
Amadis went to his lodging and slept the remainder of the night and
some part of the morning, but when it was time he arose, and the
Knights assembled, they heard mass and rode forth, and being assembled
in the field he addressed them after this guise:—It is notorious to you
good Sirs and honourable Knights, whether the affairs of King Lisuarte
have prospered or declined since I and my brethren and friends for my
sake came to Great Britain. I may therefore be excused from recalling
what is past to your memory, this only I ought to say, that ye as well
as myself might reasonably have expected great recompence; but either
that Fortune hath been using her accustomed inconstancy, or by the
influence of evil counsellors, or perhaps because age hath altered
the conditions of the King, we have found him different from what we
expected; for when I myself and Agrayes, and Don Galvanes besought
him that he would give Madasima to Don Galvanes in marriage, and with
her her lands in vassallage, he nothing regarding the worth of this
Knight nor his high lineage, not only would not grant us the boon, but
denied it in terms so discourteous and dishonourable, that because
they proceeded from a tongue so true, and from a judgment so sound, I
would not willingly repeat them were not things at this extremity that
it cannot be excused. Know then Sirs that towards the end of our talk,
when we said to him that he did not know our services, he replied,
the world was wide enough and we might seek those who would know them
better. So therefore as we have hitherto obeyed him in concord and
friendship, now must we in discord and enmity, fulfilling that which
he thinks fitting; it seemed right to me that you should know this,
because it not only concerns us in particular but all in general.
When these Knights heard what Amadis had said they were greatly
astonished, and they talked one with another and said, that ill would
their poor services be recompensed when what Amadis and his brethren
had done was so forgotten, so that their hearts were moved against the
King. And Angriote of Estravaus, as one who had resolved to take his
share in the good or evil which might befall Amadis, said to them,
Sirs, I have long known the King, and have always seen him temperate
in all his actions, and never moved without great and just cause,
therefore I cannot believe that this should proceed from his own nature
or inclination but from some meddling traitors who have bereft him of
his wisdom. Not for this do I excuse the King! for many days I have
seen him speak more with Gandandel and Brocadan than he was accustomed
to do, they being false and treacherous men, and I believe that they
have done this thing hoping to obtain thereby for themselves and their
sons that which they have never merited, and that you may see how the
justice of God comes to pass I will arm myself, and challenge them for
their villainy which they have done to the King and to Amadis, and will
do combat against them both, or against their sons in their stead,
if they dare sustain their father's treason. Forthwith he would have
departed but Amadis withheld him saying, God forbid my true and loyal
friend that your life should be put in danger for an uncertain cause.
I am certain, quoth Angriote, that it is as I say by what I have
long known of them, and if it pleases the King to speak truth he will
confirm it. If you love me, replied Amadis, let this rest at present,
that the King may not be offended; if these men who seemed so friendly
are indeed my enemies, that will be known hereafter, and then may you
better proceed against them. Then Angriote albeit unwillingly consented
to delay vengeance. Amadis then turned to the assembled Knights and
said, Sirs, I will take leave of the King and Queen if they chuse to
see me, and will go to the Firm Island, where they who shall please to
live with me shall be partakers with me in all the honour and pleasures
that I can command. The land is rich and aboundeth with all things,
there is store of forests and of fair women. I have treasure enough for
our wants; they who know us will come thither to see us, and strangers
to demand our help, and there we may return from our adventures to
recover strength. While my father King Perion lives the kingdom of
Gaul will not fail us, nor after his days. I have letters from the
lesser Britain telling me that they give me that land, that then you
may esteem our own; I must remind you also of Scotland, the country of
my Cousin Agrayes, and of Queen Briolania's kingdom, which will not
fail us for weal or for woe. That you may say truly Sir Amadis, quoth a
Knight present, whose name was Tantiles, and who was governor of that
kingdom. Sobradisa and its fair Queen, whom you have established there,
will be always at your service. Now then Sir, cried Don Quadragante,
take leave of the King and then will it be seen who they are who love
you, and will continue in your company. Amadis answered, greatly shall
I esteem those who at this time will so honour me, yet do I not say,
that if they can profitably remain with the King they should not do so,
for of a truth so good a Lord cannot soon be found. As they were thus
talking the King and Gandandel past by with many other Knights, hawking
with merlins, and sported near them awhile without speaking to them or
noticing them, and then returned to the palace.
_CHAPTER 21._
Then Amadis taking with him all those Knights went to take leave of the
King; they who were in the palace, when they saw with how altered a
countenance he entered, and at that hour when the tables were placed,
all drew nigh to hear what he should say. He being before the King
spake thus: Sir, whether or not you have dealt ill with me God and
yourself can witness: of this I say no more, for though my services
may have been great, much greater was the will I had to requite those
honours which I from you received. Yesterday you told me that I might
go about the world and seek for one who would know me better, giving me
to understand that what you wished was my departure from your court;
since this would please you it becomes me so to do. I do not come to
discharge myself of vassallage, for I never was subject to you, nor to
any but God alone; but I take leave of that good will which you once
manifested to honour and favour me, and of that great love wherewith
I ever strove to requite and serve you. Then Don Galvanes also took
leave, and Agrayes and Florestan, and Dragonis and Palomir, who were
cousins to Amadis, and Don Bruneo of Bonamar and his brother Branfil,
and Angriote of Estravaus, and Grindonan his brother, and Pinores his
nephew. Don Quadragante then came before the King and said, Sir, I
abode with you only at the request of Amadis, and because I have been
yours for his sake, for the same reason I will continue so no longer;
small hope of recompence can there be for my poor services when he is
so rewarded! for ill have you remembered how he saved you from the
hands of Madanfabul, from whence none other could have saved you, and
how he won for you that battle against King Cildadan, and how his
brethren and kinsmen there shed their blood for you; how he delivered
you from my enmity, and from Famongomadan and his son Basagante, who
were the strongest giants in the world, and from Lindoraque, who was
so mighty a Knight, and from Arcalaus the Enchanter—all this you have
forgotten; but I tell you that had all we been in the field and Amadis
away, how think you would it then have fallen out? The King answered,
Don Quadragante I well perceive by your words that you have no love
towards me, neither are you so beholden to Amadis that you should
desire his welfare; perchance what you say of that is not so true as
it sounds. Quadragante replied, you are of that rank that you may say
what pleases you, but sure am I that you will not move Amadis with
mischief-making words as others have been moved, who will discover
their error when too late. Then Landin came up and said, Sir, of all
your household I could find no help or healing for my wounds save
only from Amadis, therefore shall I go with him and with my uncle Don
Quadragante. Certes, quoth Lisuarte, if you staid I should not have a
friend the more. Landin replied, such as they are towards you will I
be. At this time were assembled together in another part of the palace,
Don Brian of Monjaste, a right good Knight, who was son of King Ladasan
of Spain and of a sister of King Perion, and Gandal, and Orlandin, son
to the Count of Orlanda, and Grandores, and Madancil, he of the Silver
Bridge, and Listoran of the White Tower, and Ladadin of Fajarque,
and Branfiles the haughty, and Don Gavarte of the Perilous Vale; and
when they saw how all those other Knights were about to depart for
the love of Amadis, they also went before the King and said, Sir, we
came to your court to see Amadis and his brethren, and to obtain his
friendship, and as he was the cause of our coming so will he be of our
departure. These Knights having departed, and there remaining no other,
Amadis would have taken leave of the Queen but Lisuarte would not
permit him, because she had always opposed this quarrel, so he sent his
excuses by Don Grumedan. Then went he to his lodging, and after they
had made their meal they all mounted being fully armed, five hundred
Knights were they in all who followed Amadis, among whom were the sons
of Kings and of Counts, and others, who for their prowess as well as
birth, were renowned throughout all the world.
Mabilia beheld them from a window of the Queen's palace, in what order
they went, their arms how rich they were, and how glittering in the
sun, so that none who saw them depart but marvelled and thought the
King unhappy, that he would so lose such a Knight and so goodly a
company. Then Mabilia went to Oriana and said, Cease thy sorrow and
come look at your vassals! and let your heart rejoice that you have
such a lover; for if till now he has led the life of an Errant Knight
serving your father, now that he has left his service, he appears like
a powerful Prince, and that Lady will redound to your honour. Oriana
being comforted by her words looked at the company, subduing by her
fortitude that grief and passion which tormented her heart. There went
out with Amadis to honour him, King Arban of North Wales, and Grumedan
the Queen's fosterer, and Brandoyuas and Quinorante, and Giontes the
King's nephew, and Listoran the good jouster. All these rode with him
apart from his company and very sorrowful for his departure, and Amadis
besought them that they would still be his friends so far as they could
without breach of honour, for he should still esteem and love them as
he had done; nor though the King had ceased to love him, having no
cause for this change, should they do so likewise, nor for that cease
to serve the King and honour him as for his worth he deserved. They
answered, that they should never cease to love him however they were
bound by loyalty to serve the King. Then said Amadis, I beseech you
tell the King that what Urganda said before me is now made manifest,
how I should gain for another, and my guerdon should be wrath, and the
long delay of my will! So has it come to pass! but the just Judge of
all will allot to every one his right. Don Grumedan cursed Urganda for
prophesying so truly, and then they returned to the town. Presently
Don Guilan came up and he was in tears; and he said, Sir, You know how
it is with us, that I have neither will nor heart of my own, but must
obey her for whom I suffer so much, and she has forbidden me to follow
you, and thus am I put to great shame: now would I repay those honours
which I have ever received from you and your brethren, but I may not!
But Amadis, who knew the great and excessive love of this Knight, and
remembered how he himself loved and obeyed Oriana, embraced him and
said, Don Guilan my dear friend, God forbid that a Knight like you
should disobey your Lady, not so would I advise you, nor so advising
should I be your friend; obey her and serve the King, and sure am I
that you will keep your loyalty and yet that I shall have in you the
same friend. So Guilan answered, he trusted in God to serve him yet;
and he took his leave. They rode on about three leagues to the shore
where Amadis had ordered tents to be pitched; there they regaled that
night, congratulating each other that they had not remained longer in
the service of one so thankless, but Amadis felt his heart fail him,
for he knew not when he should again see Oriana. In the morning they
set forth again and took the straight road to the Firm Island.
On the day after Amadis had departed, the King when mass was over sate
in his palace according to custom, and looked on one side and on the
other, and beholding how desolate the place appeared without those
Knights who were gone, he began to muse upon his own conduct, and was
lost in thought. Gandandel and Brocadan, who knew what Angriote had
said of them, when they saw him thus thoughtful began to fear that he
was ill satisfied with what had been done. Howbeit as they could not
now retreat they resolved to push farther on, for this is the ill fate
of all great errors. So Gandandel went up to Lisuarte and said to him,
henceforth Sir you may rest secure since those who could have injured
you are dismissed from your service; the trouble of your state and
household you may lay on us and we will attend to it more carefully
than to our own concerns, and when you think of the treasures which you
must have bestowed upon those Knights but which are now your own, you
should greatly rejoice. Lisuarte looked sternly at them and answered,
I marvel much at what you say, that I should commit the management of
my state and household to you! that I and those about me are not equal
to the task—but you, in whom I did not perceive such great ability are
capable thereof! Even if you were, my vassals and household would
be ill contented with the authority of such as you! You tell me too
that I shall save the wealth which would else have been bestowed among
those Knights. I would know how it could be better employed than to
my own honour and service, my honour was defended by it, my dominion
increased, and so it at last returned to me again, for the wealth that
is bestowed where it ought, lies in a good treasury whence it never can
be lost. No more of this! I shall not take your counsel! He then arose
and called his huntsmen and went forth to the field, leaving them in
amazement and great dismay.
At this season arrived a Damsel from Queen Briolania with tidings to
Oriana, whereat all greatly rejoiced for that Queen was much beloved by
all. Lady, quoth she, I come from Briolania to tell you the wonders of
the Firm Island, that you may know all, for I was witness. God grant
long life to her! said Oriana, and good fortune to you for the trouble
which you have taken. So all drew round to hear her. Then said the
Damsel, when Briolania and her company had arrived at the Firm Island
she was asked if she would attempt the Forbidden Chamber or the Arch of
True Lovers, but she answered, that she would leave those two proofs
till the last. They then led us to a fair dwelling about a league from
the Castle, which, because of its goodly situation, was one of the
chief habitations of Apolidon, and when it was dinner time they led us
to a large hall, at the one end whereof was a deep cave so dark and
fearful that none durst go nigh to it, and at the other end of the
palace was a fair tower where they led us, and we found the tables and
benches placed by the windows, and from thence we could see all that
past below in the large hall. So there were we well served by Dames and
Damsels, and the Knights and our people feasted below in the hall. But
when the second service was brought in loud hissings were heard from
the cave, and a hot wind came forth therefrom, and there issued out
a great serpent into the middle of the hall, so fierce and terrible
that none dared look on him, and he breathed smoke from his mouth and
nostrils, and lashed the ground with his tail so that the whole palace
shook; presently two Lions came out of the cave and attacked him, and
began such a battle that there is not heart of man which would not have
felt fear at beholding it. The Knights and people fled with all speed
from the table, and though the windows whereat we were were very high,
yet were we greatly terrified. Half an hour that battle lasted till the
Lions were so wearied that they lay as though they were dead, and the
serpent so exhausted that he could scarce draw breath; but after he had
rested a little he took one Lion in his mouth and carried him into the
cave, then returned for the other, and they were seen no more that day.
The men of the Island laughed at our fear, and assured us that they
would appear no more that day, so we then returned to the tables and
finished our meal.
The next day they led us to a place still fairer, where we were well
feasted, and at night they showed us a rich chamber, marvellously fair
where there was a rich and costly bed for Briolania, and other good
ones for us. But about midnight the doors flew open with so great
noise that we all awoke in terror, and a hart came in, having lighted
candles upon his horns, so that the whole chamber was as light as day.
One side of that hart was white as snow, and the neck and the head
were black as pitch, and the one horn seemed gilt and the other was
red; four dogs pursued him in full cry, and behind them an ivory horn
moved and sounded in the air as if a man were sounding it, and gave the
proper sound of the chase, and cheared the dogs so that they pursued
the hart and allowed him no respite, and drove him from one part of
the chamber to another, and sometimes they leaped over our beds, and
sometimes they fell on them, so that we rose up in our shifts and our
hair hanging about and fled from them, and some hid themselves under
the beds, till the Hart finding no safety there leaped through a window
and the dogs after him; then were we right glad, and taking up the
cloaths which were thrown about covered ourselves, and gave a robe to
Briolania wherein she drest herself, and then as the fear was past we
laughed at the confusion into which we had been thrown. While we were
making our beds again, a Dame and two Damsels entered and a little girl
with candles, and she spake to Briolania and said, How is it Lady that
you have risen at such an hour? but when she heard they laughed and
answered, Now then Ladies go to sleep again, for you have nothing more
to apprehend to-night.
Early in the morning we went to a wood where there were fine groves
and fair gardens, and there we had tents pitched by a brook side. We
found there a round building with twelve marble pillars, the walls
were of crystal so curiously made that they who might be within could
see all without; the doors were made of plate of gold and of silver,
and by every pillar there was placed the image of a Giant made in
copper, and these images had bows in their hands, and the arrow heads
were of fire. We were told that nothing could enter that chamber but
would be presently reduced to ashes by those arrows which never failed
of their mark; and they put in two fallow deer and a stag, immediately
the images shot at them and they were reduced to ashes, and the arrows
returned to the bows from whence they fled. On the doors of the chamber
there were letters written which said, Let no man or woman dare enter
here except they twain who love each other truly, as truly as did
Grimanesa and Apolidon, and they must enter here together, else will
they die the cruellest death that ever was seen. This enchantment will
endure till they twain shall have entered the Forbidden Chamber, and
then shall all the enchantments of the Firm Island be done away. Then
Briolania called Ysanjo and Enil, and told them she wished to see
nothing more except the Arch of True Lovers and the Forbidden Chamber,
and she asked Ysanjo the meaning of the Lion and Serpent, and of the
Hart and the Dogs. Lady, he replied, we know nothing more than that
always at that hour they appear; and the Hart and the Dogs run from the
window into a lake which we believe proceeds from the sea, but were
you to remain here a whole year you could not see half the wonders
that are in this Island.
On the morrow we mounted our palfreys and returned to the Castle;
without delay Briolania went to the Arch of True Lovers and past
through the Forbidden Perrons like one who had never failed in her
love, and the image with the trumpet made so sweet a sound that we were
all astonished, and when she entered where the images were of Apolidon
and Grimanesa, it ceased with so sweet a finish as was marvellous to
hear. There beheld she those images as fair and fresh as life, and
being alone with them she thought herself in good company; and while
there she saw letters newly written in the Jasper, saying, this is the
name of Briolania, daughter to King Tagadan of Sobradisa, the third
Damsel that hath entered here. Then she felt a fear of being alone and
returned. The fifth morning she went to attempt the Forbidden Chamber;
she was in rich attire, and she wore nothing upon her beautiful head
except a gold clasp with jewels, and all who saw her said, that if
she did not enter the Chamber there was none in the world who could,
and that they should now see the end of all those enchantments. She
commended herself to God, and passed through the copper Perron, and
came up to the marble Perron and read the writing there, and proceeded
so far beyond that all surely thought the adventure was atchieved; but
when she was within three paces from the door three hands seized her
by those beautiful locks, and pitilessly cast her out of the Forbidden
ground as they had done all others, and she lay in such plight that we
could not soon recover her. Till now Oriana's heart had been misgiving
her, but now she looked at Mabilia and the Damsel of Denmark, and
they at her, being all well pleased; the next day pursued the Damsel,
Briolania departed for her own kingdom. So the Damsel then received her
bidding from Brisena and Oriana, and the other Ladies, and set out on
her return to her Mistress.
Now Amadis and his company arrived at the Firm Island, where they
were joyfully received by all the dwellers therein, who, as they had
felt great sorrow for the loss of their new Lord, so now had they
double pleasure in welcoming him. But when those Knights who were
with him beheld the Castle how strong it was, and how there was no
other entrance to the Island large as it was, and that the land was so
fertile, and peopled with so many and such inhabitants, they thought
it might maintain war against all the world; so they were lodged in
the largest town which stood under the Castle. You are to know that
this Island was nine leagues long and seven wide, all full of villages
and rich dwelling-houses of the Knights of the land. And in the
pleasantest parts thereof Apolidon had built four palaces for himself,
the strangest and most delightful that ever man could behold. One was
that of the Serpent and the Lions. Another that of the Hart and the
Dogs. The third was called the Whirling Palace, for three times in the
day and as often in the night it whirled round, so that they who were
in it thought it would dash to pieces; and the fourth was that of the
Bull, because every day a wild Bull issued out of an old covered way,
and ran among the people therein as though he would kill them, and
when they fled from him he ran against the iron door of a tower and
burst it open and went in, and presently he came out again being quite
tame, and ridden by an old Ape, so wrinkled that his skin hung all in
folds, which Ape flogged him into the place from whence he came. Great
pleasure had all these Knights in beholding these enchantments, and
enough pastime had they there, and they were all firm in their love to
Amadis, and ready to follow him wherever he would.
At this time came Andalod the Hermit of the Poor Rock to establish the
monastery as had been appointed, and he seeing Amadis gave thanks to
God for giving life to so good a man, and looked at him and embraced
him as if he had never seen him before. But Amadis kist his hands, and
with all humility thanked him for his preservation and for his life,
which he owed to God and to him. So a monastery was founded at the foot
of the rock, where that Chapel of the Virgin stood, wherein Amadis had
prayed in his despair before he departed into the mountain. A good man
called Sisian, whom Andalod brought, remained there, and thirty Friars
with him, and Amadis assigned to them rents enough, and Andalod then
returned to the Poor Rock as before. Then Balays of Carsante arrived,
he whom Amadis had released from the dungeon of Arcalaus, who had gone
to take leave of King Lisuarte, so soon as he knew that Amadis had
left him in discontent; with him also came Olivas whom Agrayes and
Don Galvanes had helped in battle against the Duke of Bristol. They
asked of Balays, what news in the court? he answered, enough to tell.
King Lisuarte Sir has summoned all his people; for Count Latine and
they whom he sent to take possession of the Island of Mongaza, have
informed him that the old Giant had given up to them all the Castles
which he and his sons had in their keeping. But Gromadaza refused to
yield the Castles by the Boiling Lake, which is the strongest place in
the Island, and also three other strong Castles, for she says she will
never yield the place where she was Mistress in the life of her husband
Famongomadan, and Basagante her son, but always annoy Lisuarte to the
utmost of her power, and for Madasima and the Damsels she cares not
what may become of them so she can do any harm to the King. The King
therefore has summoned his forces, and hath sworn, if Gromadaza does
not yield up her Castles within a month, that he will behead Madasima
and the Damsels, and that he will go against the Castle of the Boiling
Lake, and not depart from before it till he shall have won it, and if
he can take the old Giantess he will throw her to the Lions. At this
news they were all greatly troubled, and Galvanes said to them, Sirs,
you all know the promise which I have made to Madasima, to defend her
with reason, or if that failed by force of arms; and for this cause
was it that Amadis and all of us forsook Lisuarte; now I beseech you,
if he will not hear reason, assist me in arms to fulfil my word. At
that uprose Don Florestan, and said, Don Galvanes, there are better
advisers here than I, but if reason fail I will undertake the battle in
the name of God. Good friend, replied Galvanes, I thank you with all my
heart; but if it must be by battle I have promised and I will perform
it. Then Don Brian of Monjaste and Quadragante said that the quarrel
appertained to all, and all ought to bear a part, for all Knights were
bound to succour Damsels who were opprest, and as Madasima and her
Damsels had gone as hostages in obedience to her mother, they were
innocent before God. Sirs, said Amadis, you rejoice me in what you say;
for whatsoever is undertaken with such concord will have good issue.
But I will tell you what seems to me good: these Damsels are twelve in
number, and therefore ought to be succoured by twelve Knights. Sure I
am that such as ye will think such danger but pastime, if it please ye
I will name twelve champions, and let the other Knights remain here for
greater perils if they should befal us. You, Sir Don Galvanes shall
be the first, as it is your quarrel, and Agrayes your nephew, and my
brother Florestan, and my cousins Palomir and Dragonis, and Don Brian
of Monjaste, and Nicoran of the White Tower, and Urlandin and Gavarte
of the Perilous Vale, and Ymosil brother to the Duke of Burgandy, and
Madansil of the Silver Bridge, and Ladadin of Fajarque; let those
twelve go, there are among them the sons of Kings and Dukes and Counts,
so that their peers will not be found. Hereat were all well pleased,
and the Knights appointed made ready forthwith, and shortly after
midnight armed themselves and rode towards Tafilana, the town where
Lisuarte then was.
_CHAPTER 22._
Now Oriana felt herself great with child, and she asked counsel of
Mabilia and the Damsel of Denmark in that danger; they albeit they were
sore dismayed dissembled that, and Mabilia bade her take heart for all
should be remedied. I always expected, said she, that to such[347:A]
a saint such an offering would be brought. Oriana could not forbear a
smile. I will feign myself worse, she said, and withdraw as much as
I can from all company; and if the Damsel of Denmark will hazard her
honour for me, my honour and life may both be saved. Lady, quoth the
Damsel, I am at your command even were it to my death. Good friend,
quoth Oriana, this I hoped, and if I live you shall recover your honour
and with great praise. Then the Damsel knelt and kissed her hands, and
Oriana proceeded: continue to visit Adalasta the Abbess of my Nunnery
as you have hitherto done, and when it is time tell her that you are
pregnant, and beseech her to help you, so that you may lay the child at
the church door, and that she will order it to be taken in and brought
up for Charity's sake; thus will my secret be safe, nor will you be
shamed, for none but this honourable Lady will know what you shall tell
her, and she loves you much. Thus they determined that it should be.
[347:A] This is D'Herberay's phrase, it is better than the
original: Siempre me tuve por dicho que de tales juegos
auriades tal ganancia.
When Lisuarte knew how Gromadaza persisted in her warfare, by advice
of Gandandel and Brocadan he sent for Madasima and her Damsels, and
told them that they must all be put to death for an example. When she
heard this so rigorous doom the fair and fresh colour of her cheeks
suddenly changed to a pale and deadly hue, and falling at the King's
feet she said, Sir, the fear of death doth make my heart weaker than
it naturally is, weak Damsel as I am, so that I have neither thought
nor words to answer you; but if in this court there be any Knight
willing to uphold the right let him speak for me as a Knight is bound
to do, for I did not enter your prison willingly but in obedience to
my mother. If there be none such here, do you O King, whom hitherto
never distressed Dame or Damsel hath implored in vain, do you deal
justly by me, and let not anger have the mastery over you. Gandandel,
who was present, was greatly desirous that Madasima should be slain,
knowing that then Amadis could never be reconciled with the King; and
he said, Sir, do not hear her, these Damsels were given you as hostages
to die if the conditions were not performed, and therefore justice
ought to be executed without delay. But Don Grumedan, who was a good
Knight, and well versed in all the laws of Knighthood, as one who had
not only practised but read much, replied, that shall not the King
do if it please God! nor ever shall such cruelty and wrong be by him
committed. This Damsel came hither in obedience to her mother, and as
that obedience will in secret be by God rewarded, so should it be in
public by the King as his servant, and one who obeys his will. Moreover
I have learnt that within three days here will arrive certain Knights
from the Firm Island to take up their quarrel; and if you Gandandel, or
your sons are willing to maintain the justice of your advice; you will
there find those who will answer you. Gandandel answered, Don Grumedan,
tho' you wish me ill I have never deserved it at your hands; if you had
offended my sons you know they are such Knights that they can maintain
what I have said. We shall soon see that, quoth old Grumedan; as for
you I only wish you well or ill as it shall be found that you have
counselled the King. Albeit that Lisuarte had acted much amiss toward
Amadis, and had it in his heart to do him all displeasure, yet could
not that new passion subdue his old virtue, so that he was glad at
what Grumedan said, and asked who the Knights were that were coming to
defend the Damsels, and when Grumedan had told their names, he observed
that they were enough good and prudent Knights. But then was Gandandel
sore dismayed, and he repented him of what he had said concerning his
sons, knowing that they were nothing equal in arms to Florestan and
Agrayes, and Don Brian of Monjaste, and Gavarte of the Perilous Vale.
So when Madasima was remanded to prison he went to his brother-in-law
Brocadan in trouble of heart, receiving now the guerdon which the
merits of his misdeed deserved.
Here came to pass what the Gospel saith, That no hidden thing but
shall be made known; for Gandandel retiring with Brocadan to a private
chamber to consult with him how they might prevail upon the King to
execute Madasima and her Damsels before the Knights of the Firm Island
arrived, Brocadan began to reproach him for the wrong he had done to
Amadis, greatly repenting his own wickedness now that he saw his own
honour and his sons in danger. Now it happened that a niece of Brocadan
was enamoured of a young Knight called Sarquiles, who was nephew to
Angriote of Estravaus, and she had hidden him near this chamber, so
that he heard the whole secret of this treachery; and when it was night
he went out and armed himself, and mounting his horse he rode on the
morrow into the town as if he came from another place, and he went
before the King and said to him, Sir, I am your natural subject and was
brought up in your household, and therefore would save you from all
treachery, that you may not commit wrong in compliance with another's
will. It is not three days since I was in a place where I heard persons
counselling how to instigate you to do an evil thing against your own
honour and good reason. I say to you, give no heed to Gandandel and
Brocadan in what they say to you, touching Madasima, for there are
others in your court who more honestly advise you; you and all here
shall know wherefore I say this, within twelve days, if you will delay
following their will for so long. Now Sir, God be with you, for I go
to my Uncle Angriote. God be with you, replied Lisuarte, and remained
musing on what he had heard.
Sarquiles rode on by the shortest way he knew to the Firm Island, and
when he arrived there his horse was so overspent with the speed he had
made that he could scarcely carry him. He found Amadis, and Angriote,
and Don Bruneo, riding on the shore to hasten the equipment of some
vessels which they had ordered to pass over to Gaul, for Amadis was
desirous to see his parents. Right well was Sarquiles received, and
Angriote said to him, Nephew, what business have you that your horse
is in such plight? Very great, replied he, and he told him how his
Mistress Gandaza had hidden him in Brocadan's house, and what he had
there heard. Now Sir, quoth Angriote to Amadis, was my suspicion right?
You would not suffer me to bring the matter to an end, but now if it
please God neither you nor ought else shall let, but that this great
treason against the King and against you shall be made manifest. Good
friend, replied Amadis, you may now do it with reason and certainty,
and God therewith will speed you. I will depart to-morrow, said
Angriote, and Sarquiles upon another horse with me. Accordingly on the
following morning they twain set out for the dwelling of King Lisuarte.
Meantime the King mused much upon that Sarquiles had told him. One day
Gandandel and Brocadan came before him and said, Sir, we are grieved
to see how little you regard your own welfare; that, quoth Lisuarte,
may well be, but why say you this?—Because these Knights who are your
enemies are coming to your Court without any fear to defend these
Damsels for whom you ought to have the land given up. If you will take
our advice you ought to behead them before these champions arrive, and
send to forbid the Knights to enter your kingdom; thus would you make
them fear you, and Amadis would not venture to offer you any wrong,
for if they do not forbear for fear, for nothing else will they; the
sooner this is done the better will it be, and the more terror will
it strike. The King then called to mind the words of Sarquiles, and
saw how he had spoken truth. You tell me two things, he replied,
against all reason: the one that without any form of judgment I should
have these Damsels slain, what account could I give to the Lord whose
minister I am if I should do this? He has appointed me here in his
stead to administer right in his name, and if I did this wrong which
you counsel to strike fear into others, it would fall upon my own head
at last. Those Kings who follow their own will instead of what is
reasonable rely on themselves and not on God, which is the worst error
into which they can fall. Their best security is to chuse out good
counsellors, and honest ones, and to remember that however evil actions
appear at first, the just Judge directs, and the end thereof cannot be
good. You tell me also to forbid these Knights from coming to my court;
a dishonourable thing would it be to prevent any one from claiming
justice before me, much more they being my enemies, for it is to my
honour that I have the power and inclination to do what they request.
I do not like your counsel! you have done ill to those who deserved no
ill at your hands! I have sinned and I have my punishment; and if you
have been false so I trust will you have yours at the end. And with
that he went away and left them.
The following day Lisuarte rode forth after mass with a great company,
and seeing that the twelve Knights were approaching he rode forward to
receive them, for he was a courteous man to all, and they well deserved
such honour being what they were. They made obeisance to him, and while
their people pitched tents in the field Don Galvanes spake to the King.
Sir, confiding in your virtue and in your wonted goodness, we are
come hither to request that you will hear Madasima and her Damsels,
that they may have their right; we are come to plead their cause, and
if by that means we cannot succeed, let it not offend you Sir if we
support it by arms, for there is no cause wherefore they ought to die.
The King answered, go now and rest yourselves, I will do all that can
justly be done. Don Brian of Monjaste then replied, So Sir we hoped,
that you would do what behoved your royal dignity and your conscience,
and whenever you have failed so to act it has been the work of evil
advisers, and that, if it did not offend you, I would prove upon any
one who dared gainsay. Don Brian, quoth the King, if you would listen
to your father I know that you would neither forsake me for another,
nor come hither to plead against me. Sir, replied Don Brian, my
pleading is for you, it is that you should do justice, and not listen
to those who would serve you less faithfully than I, and stain your
worth. You say Sir, that if I had listened to my father I should not
forsake you: I have not forsaken you Sir, for I never was yours, albeit
I am of your lineage. I came to your court to seek my kinsman Amadis,
and when you were pleased that he should be no longer yours, then I
departed with him; in all this I have not erred a single point of duty.
The King then returned to the town, and they remained in their tents
where they were visited by their friends. But for Oriana I tell you she
never left the window, looking at those who so loved her lover, and
beseeching God to give them the victory in this appeal.
That night did Gandandel and Brocadan pass in great perplexity, wishing
that they could recall what was past, but now perforce must they go on.
On the morrow the twelve Knights heard mass with the King, and that
done accompanied him to his palace. He then called for Gandandel and
Brocadan, and said to them, You must now support the advice which you
have always given me in the affair of Madasima, and make these good men
understand why she ought not to be heard, and he bade them stand where
all might hear them. Ymosil of Burgandy, and Ladadin of Fajarque then
came forward and said, We Sir, and these Knights beseech you of your
goodness that Madasima and her Damsels may be heard, for so we conceive
it is right. Then answered Gandandel, many talk about the right and
few know what it is; you say that of right these Damsels ought to be
heard, which of right they ought not, for without any such condition
they bound themselves to death, and entered the prison of the King
thereupon, that if Ardan Canileo were slain or vanquished, and the
whole Island of Mongaza were not then freely surrendered, they and the
Knights with them should suffer death. The Knights delivered up the
Castles in their keeping, which Gromadaza will not do, therefore there
neither is nor can be reason for which they should be excused from
death. Ymosil replied, Certes Gandandel, you might have been excused
from uttering such reasons before so good a King and such Knights as
are here! It is manifest to all who have any knowledge, that man or
woman are to be heard, of right in their own defence, in all cases
except in treason and conspiracy; this is the custom in all lands
wherein justice is observed, and this is what we require. Gandandel
replied, that nothing more was to be said: the King was to decide, so
the matter was at issue, and the King remained with certain Knights,
all the others leaving the hall.
The King wished his Uncle Argamonte, an honourable Count and of great
prudence, to deliver his opinion, but he referred it to the King,
saying that none so fully understood what was right as he himself; the
other counsellors did the same. Lisuarte seeing this then said, Since
you leave the decision to me, I think Ymosil of Burgundy hath spoken
to the purpose, and the Damsels should be heard. Certes Sir, quoth the
Count, and all they who were present said the same, you have determined
justly, for thus it ought to be. They then called in the Knights and
said what had been resolved; for this Ymosil and Ladadin of Fajarque
kissed his hands and said, be pleased therefore Sir to let Madasima
and her Damsels be summoned, and we will save them by fair reason, or
by arms if need shall be. Let them come, replied the King, and see if
they will commit their cause to you. Presently they came before the
King so modestly and in such fear that not a man could behold them
without great pity. The twelve Knights of the Firm Island took them by
the hand, and Agrayes, Florestan, Ymosil and Ladadin said to Madasima,
Lady Madasima, these Knights come to save you and your Damsels from
death, will you commit your cause to us? Sirs, she replied, if the
cause of Damsels so forlorn and wretched may be undertaken, we commit
it to you, and trust in God and you. Since it is so, quoth Ymosil, let
who will come forward against you! if he be one I will defend you by
reason or by arms; if more, twelve shall be answered. The King looked
at Gandandel and Brocadan, and saw that they looked down, and were
dismayed, and did not answer. Return to your lodgings till the morrow,
said Lisuarte, and meanwhile those who are to answer you will take
counsel. The Knights then conducted Madasima to her prison and went to
their tents.
Lisuarte led Gandandel and Brocadan aside, and said to them, you have
often urged me to put those Damsels to death, and said you would
maintain the justice of the deed by reason, or your sons should in
arms, if need should be, now then do as you said, for what Ymosil
advances seems just to me, and I will not appoint any of my Court to
combat against these Knights. Look ye to it! Else will the Damsels be
delivered, and I shall have been ill advised by ye, and wrongfully.
They replied, that to-morrow they would be ready with their reply, and
returned very sorrowfully to their homes. And they agreed to persist
in their advice and maintain it by reason, but not put their sons in
danger, because the cause was not just, and they were not such in arms
as those Knights. But that same evening tidings came to the King how
Gromadaza the Giantess was dead, and had ordered her Castles to be
delivered up to save her daughter and the Damsels, and that they had
accordingly been yielded to Count Latine. Greatly pleased thereat was
Lisuarte, and when the Knights came before him on the morrow he said,
proceed no farther in this cause, for you are quit of your defence,
and the Damsels are free; the Castles for which I held them in pledge
having been surrendered. Gandandel and Brocadan then rejoiced, for they
surely expected to be dishonoured. Then Lisuarte sent for Madasima and
the Damsels, and said to them, ye are free; do what it pleases you, the
Castles have been given up; but he would not tell her that her mother
was dead. Madasima would have kissed his hand but the King permitted
not that, for he never suffered Dame or Damsel to kiss his hand save
when he bestowed upon them some boon. Then said she, since you leave me
at my own disposal; I give myself to my Lord Galvanes, who hath been so
willing to help me. Agrayes took her by the hand and said, good Lady,
you do that which is right; and though you are now disherited of your
own land, you shall be honoured in another till it please God to remedy
your loss. But Ymosil then said to the King, Sir, if right be done to
Madasima she will not be disherited, for children who are in the power
of their parents must obey them, however unwillingly, but not for that
should they be disherited, when obedience and not free will hath made
them bind themselves to what their parents commanded. And because you
Sir are appointed here to make every one render to another his right,
so ought you yourself to do as an example. Ymosil, replied the King,
you have the Damsels at liberty, say no more upon this other matter; I
have had sufficient trouble about that land, and will defend it now it
is mine, nor can I take it from my daughter Leonoreta, to whom I have
granted it. Don Galvanes then said, Sir, that right which Madasima has
to the land of her fathers is now mine. I beseech you remember some
services which I have done you, and do not disinherit me, for I would
willingly be your vassal and stand in your favour, and serve you as
loyally as it is possible. Say no more Don Galvanes, quoth Lisuarte,
that is done which cannot be undone. Since it is so, quoth he, that I
find neither right nor courtesy here, I shall strive to win it how I
can. Do your utmost, replied the King, it was in the power of those
who were stronger than you, and easier will it be to defend it from
you, than it was to win it from them. You won it, answered Galvanes,
by means of one who was badly guerdoned, he will help to recover it.
If he helps you, cried Lisuarte, many others will serve me who would
not serve me before for his sake, when I had him in my household and
protected him from them. Agrayes then grew angry and exclaimed, Certes
all here, and others beside can tell whether Amadis was protected by
you or you by him, though you are a King and he was always as an Errant
Knight. Don Florestan seeing how Agrayes was moved laid hand upon his
shoulder and drew him back, and then said himself, it seems, Sir, you
prize the services of these you speak of above those of Amadis, whether
they be so indeed, we shall soon see. Don Brian of Monjaste then stept
forward, however little you esteem the services of Amadis and his
friends, they must be of great worth indeed who can reasonably make
them to be forgotten. It is plain Don Brian, replied the King, that
you are one of those friends!—Sure Sir I am; he is my kinsman and I
shall do what he pleases. We have enough, quoth Lisuarte, to dispense
with you. All you have, replied Don Brian, will be wanted to resist
what Amadis can do. The Knights on both sides drew nigh to answer, but
Lisuarte stretched out a wand which he held and commanded them to say
no more, and they returned to their places.
Just then Angriote of Estravaus, and his nephew Sarquiles entered,
compleatly armed, and approached to kiss the King's hand. The twelve
Knights marvelled at their coming being ignorant of the cause thereof,
but Gandandel and Brocadan were put in fear, and they looked at each
other, for they knew what Angriote had said of them before, and albeit
they held him for the best Knight in the King's dominions, yet they
took courage to answer what he might say; and they called their sons
and bade them say nothing more than they should tell them. Angriote
stood up before the King and said, Sir, let Gandandel and Brocadan
come hither, and I will say that to them which shall make you and
all present know them better than ye have hitherto done. The King
accordingly called on them to come forward, and all the Knights drew
nigh to hear. Then said Angriote, know Sir that Gandandel and Brocadan
are disloyal and false toward you, they counselled you wickedly and
lyingly, neither regarding God, nor you, nor Amadis, who had so
honoured them, and had never done them wrong. They, villains as they
are, told you that Amadis designed to seize your kingdom, a thing which
never was in his thoughts, for what he desired hath ever been your
service, and thus have they made you lose the best Knight that ever
King had to serve him, and many other good Knights with him, for no
fault of their own. Therefore I say that these wicked and false men, in
whom you trusted, have committed a great treason against you, which if
they deny, I will do battle with them both; but if their age excuses
them, let their sons come forward, and by God's help I will make them
confess the disloyalty of their fathers before you, that you shall
understand it. Sir, replied Gandandel, you see how Angriote comes to
dishonour your court! and this is because you permit those to enter
your land who do not seek your service, if you had prevented that at
first this would not have happened; and now Sir do not marvel if Amadis
should come hither to-morrow and defy you yourself! If Angriote had
met me in those days when I did good service in arms for this kingdom,
and for your brother King Falangris, he would not then have dared to
say what now he says, but now he sees me old and weak, and dares insult
me as one already overcome; this shame Sir falls more upon you than me.
No Sir Knave, quoth Angriote, I am not come hither to dishonour the
Court, but for its honour to destroy treason, and root out the tares
which you have scattered among the good seed! Then said Sarquiles,
Sir, you know the words which I spake to you upon this matter; with my
own ears I heard the villainy which these old traitors were devising;
they are old, but their sons are young and strong; let them answer for
them, they are three and we are two, then will God discover the truth,
and it will be seen if they are such as to make amends for the loss of
Amadis and his lineage as their fathers have boasted! When the two sons
of Gandandel heard this, and saw that the whole Court were smiling to
see their fathers so prest, they thrust angrily through the throng, and
came before the King and said, Sir, Angriote lies in all that he hath
said and we will combat with him; here are our gages, and they threw
their gloves into his lap. Angriote then held out the lappet of his
armour—here Sir is mine! let them go arm themselves, and do you Sir
behold the battle. The King answered, the day is far spent and there
will not be time, let it be after mass to-morrow. With that Adamas
came up, the son of Brocadan by a sister of Gandandel; he was great of
stature and strong, but of so villainous a nature that none esteemed
him. He said to the King, Sir, Sarquiles lies in all he hath said,
and if he dare enter the field with his Uncle I will combat him! at
this Sarquiles right joyfully gave his gage; the Court then broke up.
Angriote and Sarquiles went with the twelve Knights and Madasima, who
had taken leave of the Queen and of Oriana, and Brisena sent her a rich
tent to lodge in.
The King remained with Don Grumedan and Giontes his nephew; he sent for
Gandandel and Brocadan, and said to them, I marvel at you! you have
so often told me that Amadis designed treason and meant to seize my
kingdom, and now when the proof was necessary you shrunk from it! and
have suffered your sons to risque themselves who know not what is the
justice of their cause. You have sinned against God and me; great evil
have you done me in making me lose such a man and such Knights, but you
will not escape without your punishment, for that just Judge will give
to every one his due. Sir, said Gandandel, my sons came forward hastily
thinking that the proof was delayed. Of a truth, quoth Grumedan, they
thought right; for there neither is nor can be proof that Amadis in
this or in aught else hath done wrong toward the King, and if you
suspect it, it is against all reason; even the devils in hell cannot
think so! If you had a thousand heads, and the King were to cut them
all off, he would not be enough revenged for the wrong you have done
him, and now you will be left for more mischief, which God forbid! and
your wretched sons must suffer for your fault! Don Grumedan, said they,
whatever you believe and wish we trust that our sons will save their
honour and our own. God never save me, replied he, if I wish more than
that you be rewarded as your counsel deserves. The King then bade them
cease, and he went to table, and they departed to their homes.
That night the arms and horses of the champions were made ready.
Angriote and Sarquiles past the remainder of the night from midnight
in a chapel of Saint Mary, which was near their tents. At day-break
the twelve Knights armed themselves, for they doubted the King seeing
how wroth he was against them, and with Madasima and her Damsels, each
upon her palfrey, they rode through the town to the field of battle,
Angriote and Sarquiles going before them. The King and his Knights
were already assembled, and three Judges were appointed: King Arban of
North Wales, and Giontes the King's Nephew, and Quinorante the good
Jouster; they placed Angriote and Sarquiles at one end of the lists.
Presently the two brothers Tarin and Corian came with their cousin
Adamas, well armed and mounted, and disposed to do their part well, if
the wickedness of their fathers had not been against them. They being
opposed each to the other, Giontes blew his trumpet and they ran the
career, Corian and Tarin at Angriote, and Adamas against Sarquiles.
Tarin broke his lance upon Angriote, who encountered Corian, and bore
him from his saddle, then turned and saw Tarin sword in hand. Tarin
struck at him but the blow fell upon the horses' head and wounded him,
and cut away the headstall, so that the reins fell on his neck, and the
horse being thus at liberty, Angriote was carried against his enemy,
and they dashed against each other and Tarin fell; then Angriote leaped
lightly from his horse as one accustomed to such perils, and took his
shield, and laid hand upon that sword with which he had heretofore
dealt so many and mighty blows. He saw his nephew maintaining a brave
sword-combat on horseback, and then made at the two brethren who stood
by each other, and laid on him a heavy load like brave and strong
Knights. But Angriote well defended himself, holding out his shield
against one and laying on the other with the sword, so that he made
them give back, for never stroke came from him that did not shear away
the armour, for as I have told you this Knight was the best foyner
with the sword of any in the King's dominions. So that their shields
were soon chipt away, and their harness broken that the blood started
through, nor was he so whole but that the blood ran from many wounds.
When Sarquiles saw how his Uncle sped, and that he was still coping
in equal battle with Adamas, he spurred his horse and grappled with
his enemy, and there they struggled each to overthrow the other.
Angriote seeing them drew nigh to succour Sarquiles if he should fall
undermost, and the two brethren followed him to help their cousin. At
length the two Knights fell from their horses, still grappling; then
might you have seen a great conflict, Angriote pressing to help his
nephew and the brethren to assist Adamas. But in that hour Angriote
did such wonders in arms, and laid on such terrible and heavy blows
that the brethren, albeit they did their utmost, could not save Adamas
from the hands of Sarquiles. When Gandandel and Brocadan saw this, who
till now had hoped that the valour of their sons might have defended
their wickedness they withdrew from the window in great sorrow and pain
of heart, and the King withdrew also, for all the good fortune which
befell the friends of Amadis displeased him, and he would not witness
the victory of Angriote. But all else who were present rejoiced to see
that Gandandel and Brocadan would suffer some part of the punishment on
earth which they deserved. The four Knights meantime continued their
fierce conflict, but it did not long endure, for now Tarin and Corian
gave ground and fled, seeking some place of safety, but finding none
they turned, and struck again at their pursuers and then again fled,
till they were smitten down and slain to the great joy of Madasima
and her Damsels, and the Knights of the Firm Island, but above all of
Oriana, who had never ceased praying to God to grant her friends that
victory. Angriote then asked the Judges if there was aught more to be
done? they replied, he had done enough for his honour, and led the two
champions from the lists; their comrades then received and took them
with Madasima to their tents where they were healed of their wounds.
_Here endeth the Second Book of Amadis of Gaul._
END OF THE SECOND VOLUME.
INDEX.
VOL. II.
CHAPTER 36.
Page
_How Amadis and Galaor knew of this great treason and
took counsel to procure, if they could, the liberty of
the King and Oriana_ 1
CHAPTER 37.
_How Don Galaor delivered King Lisuarte from the
captivity to which they were treacherously leading him
away_ 9
CHAPTER 38.
_How tidings came to the Queen that King Lisuarte was
made prisoner, and how Barsinan executed his treason,
and how at last he was overthrown and the King restored
to his kingdom_ 17
CHAPTER 39.
_How Amadis came to succour the City of London, and
what he did there_ 21
CHAPTER 40.
_How King Lisuarte held a Cortes which lasted twelve
days, at which great feastings were made, and of the many
Chiefs and Knights who came there_ 29
CHAPTER 41.
_Of the battle which Amadis had promised the fair child
Briolania to perform against Abiseos and his two sons in
revenge of her father's death_ 36
CHAPTER 42.
_How Don Galaor went with the Damsel in quest of the
Knight who had overthrown them, till he did battle with
him_ 43
CHAPTER 43.
_Showing how Don Florestan was the son of King Perion by
a fair Damsel, daughter to the Count of Salandia_ 55
CHAPTER 44.
_How Don Galaor and Florestan, going towards the kingdom
of Sobradisa, met three Damsels at the Fountain of the Elm
Trees_ 72
_Here beginneth the Second Book of Amadis of Gaul; and
because the great things which will be related in the
Fourth Book concerning Amadis are all relating to the
Firm Island, it behoves that in this second it should
be related what this Island was, and who left those
enchantments and the great riches which were therein_ 84
CHAPTER 2.
_How Amadis with his brethren and his cousin Agrayes
went towards King Lisuarte, and how by adventure they went
to the Enchanted Firm Island, and of what befel them
there_ 91