Britomart and the Magic Mirror
Faerie Queene. Book III. Cantos II., III
Once upon a time there lived in Cambria a king whose name was Ryence. Now Ryence was a good king, and dealt justly with his people, and on this account he won the approval of Merlin, the great magician. And Merlin gave King Ryence a boon.
This boon was a looking-glass, so wonderfully made, and possessed of such strange properties, that its fame spread throughout the wide world. The glass was round, shaped like a ball, and hollow inside. He who looked into it, saw not himself, but saw there portrayed anything that was happening in any part of the world that might be of consequence to him. If a foe were working him secret ill, or a friend feigning false kindness, this glass revealed their deeds. Such, then, was the boon which Merlin had given to King Ryence; and from it the king could learn the approach of an enemy more surely and more quickly than from the swiftest messenger.
Now the King of Cambria had one only child. This was Britomart, his daughter and his heir. She was a noble damsel, tall and stately, with rich golden hair, which, when loosened from its silken bands, fell like a sunny shower, reaching down to her feet. And she was brave as she was beautiful: gentle towards the weak, and ready to help those in trouble; one who scorned to take advantage of the misfortunes of others. A fit daughter of a great king, from whom her father kept no secrets.
It chanced that one day, as Britomart was wandering over the palace, she found herself in the small apartment where Ryence kept the mirror. Forgetful of its strange virtues, the princess looked into it, and was surprised that she did not see a reflection of herself. Then she remembered that Merlin's gift was no ordinary looking-glass, and as she recalled its properties, she began to wonder what she might look for there that was of importance to herself. Standing lingering by the mirror, her thoughts fell on love, and she wondered – as maidens will – whom fortune would allot for her husband.
Now Britomart was no foolish maiden, dwelling ever on her future, and in it forgetting the duties of the present; but she was a rich and lovely princess, and it was only natural that she should expect to marry some day.
By-and-bye, as she gazed into the mirror, there appeared before her the image of a knight, completely armed. His countenance was a right manly one; a countenance to awe his foes, but to endear him to his friends. His frame was large and strong, its natural strength increased by deeds of chivalry which he continually practised. His armour was massive, and seemed of some antique mould, as indeed it was, for in golden letters there was written on it these words —
"Achilles' arms which Artegal did win."
Artegal's crest was a hound couchant, and on his shield he bore the figure of a crowned ermine on an azure field.
As Britomart looked on the image, she liked it, and having looked at it well, she went her way, and little thought that Cupid, the false archer, had shot an arrow into her heart. After a time, the stately Britomart began to droop. She no longer moved about with her customary princely bearing, but became sad, low-spirited, and full of foolish fears; nor could she discover the cause of her discomfiture. At night when she lay down to sleep, Glaucé, the old nurse who still attended her, wondered at her wakefulness, and at the tears which Britomart tried in vain to conceal. And when sleep visited her weary eyes, it was only for a few minutes at a time, and she started in her sleep as if some ghastly dream had affrighted her. She did not know that she loved, but her thoughts ever returned to the fair image she had seen.
One night when Britomart seemed more uneasy than usual, Glaucé determined to inquire into the cause of her unrest. With loving words she besought the princess to tell her how it was that her former cheerfulness had changed into this sad melancholy.
"Ah me," said the old nurse, "how much I fear lest love it be;" and added —
"But be it worthy of thy race and royal seed,
Then I avow by this most sacred head
Of my dear foster-child to ease thy grief
And win thy will."
The nurse was a powerful personage in the king's household, and praying Britomart to put away this melancholy humour, she promised that neither death nor danger should prevent her from relieving her sorrow. Then she took her dear foster-child in her arms and fondled her tenderly, and chafed her cold limbs, and kissed and bathed her fair eyes, praying her all the time to take courage and disclose the secret trouble of her heart.
Britomart did not answer at once; but at length she spoke, and begged Glaucé to inquire no further, since there was no remedy for her distress.
"Dear daughter," said the nurse, "despair not; there never yet was a wound which something could not soothe."
"But mine," said Britomart, "is like no other; for it, reason can find no remedy."
"Nevertheless," replied Glaucé, "love can mount higher than reason, and has oft done wondrous things."
"But," urged the poor princess, "not even love can do that which is not possible to be done."
"Things often seem impossible," said Glaucé, "before they are attempted."
Then Britomart broke out bitterly – "These idle words," she said, "do me no good; mine is no common grief, but, since you will know it, I shall no longer conceal my crime, if crime it be. Neither for prince nor peer is my heart pained, but only for the image and semblance of a knight, aye, and the semblance of one I have not even seen."
So saying, she related to Glaucé the adventure of the magic mirror, and added that the image haunted her so that she almost longed for death itself.
"Daughter," replied Glaucé, "why be so dismayed? Thy love hath a strange beginning, but there is nothing to be ashamed of in it, joy therefore have thou, and eternal bliss;" and stooping over the maiden she kissed her tenderly.
"Ah! nurse," said the Princess, "what you say comforts me but little; for what good is it although my love be worthy if it be fixed on nothing more than a shadow?"
"Nay," said Glaucé, "there never was a shadow that had not a substance, and one which could not by some means be discovered. Still, if thou can'st conquer this evil before it grows more powerful, yield thee not, but if it prove too great for thee, I promise that the beloved knight shall be found."
Cheered by her words, Britomart laid herself down to sleep. Glaucé covered her with tender care, and by-and-bye the damsel slept. Well pleased, the nurse darkened the light of the rude oil lamp and sat down to watch her charge, and as she watched, tears fell from her aged eyes. When morning dawned Glaucé roused Britomart, and together they went to the church to pray. But even there Britomart could not command her thoughts – nor for that matter could Glaucé – and as soon as they returned home the old melancholy came back upon the Princess. When Glaucé perceived this she called Britomart into her own bower, and there tried the effect of spells much resorted to in those old fairy days. But the spells were of no avail, and Britomart grew worse, and became so thin and pale that Glaucé was well nigh in despair. At length it occurred to her that it might be wise to consult Merlin, the great magician. She therefore disguised herself and the Princess, and set out.
Now Merlin dwelt in a dark cave which ran low underneath the ground. It was entered from a rock which lay a little way from a fierce brawling stream that flowed amongst densely-wooded hills. It was a dismal spot, and when the travellers reached it they paused and feared to enter, and half repented their coming. But Britomart, whose nature was full of spirit, recovered courage, and entered, followed by her nurse.
They found the magician busied in his mysteries, writing strange characters on the ground. Their entrance did not surprise him, for by his art he knew before-hand of their coming, and knew also the nature of their business; but feigning ignorance, he bade them tell their errand.
Then Glaucé spoke, humbly praying him not to be offended by their coming since no light cause had brought them there. She paused, but he bade her go on. Then she related how for the last three months the maiden before him had been afflicted by a sore evil, but what it was she scarce could tell; of one thing only was she certain, that unless a remedy were found her nursling must die.
On hearing this Merlin began to smile, and knowing that she had not yet told him the whole truth, said quietly, "If this be all, the damsel hath need of a physician rather than of me," and added these words,
"Who help may have elsewhere
In vain seeks wonders out of magic spell."
This speech rather disconcerted Glaucé, who wished to secure his help without confessing who they were or referring to the magic mirror, which would at once reveal the maiden's parentage. "Ah," she exclaimed, "if physicians' skill or any learned means could have relieved my dear daughter, truly I should be loath to disturb thee; but this evil has arisen from a source beyond nature."
Thereupon the wizard laughed outright.
"Glaucé," he said, "why try to cloak what is self-betrayed? And thou, fair Britomart," he continued, turning towards the Princess, "art no more hidden by thy disguise than is the sun when a passing cloud conceals him. Thy good fortune hath brought thee hither to ask my help, and it shall be granted thee."
On finding herself thus addressed, Britomart blushed deeply, but old Glaucé took heart and replied, "Since then thou knowest our grief, pity it, I pray thee, and relieve us."
Whereupon Merlin sat silent for a time, and then spoke thus.
"Be not thou dismayed, most noble virgin, by the sharp pangs which have so sore oppressed thine heart, for so must all excellent things begin. Nor was it idle chance that led thee to look into the charmed mirror; thine eyes were guided by eternal providence in order that heaven's destiny be fulfilled. Thine is no evil fate, thus to love the noblest among knights. Therefore submit thyself to Heaven, and take all due means to fulfil thy destiny."
"But," said Glaucé "advise us, thou great magician, what means to take. How shall she find this knight, or indeed why need she do aught since the fates can of themselves fulfil their own purpose."
"Nay," replied Merlin, "true is it that naught can shake the heavenly destiny, nevertheless men must use their own endeavour to work it out. Know then that he whom Britomart loves, and is to marry, is the knight Artegal. He dwells in the Faeryland, and yet he is neither born of a fairy nor in any way related to one, but was by them stolen from his cradle, and to this day he is ignorant that he belongs not to their race. But he is in truth a son of Gorlois, and a brother of Cador, the great Cornish king, whose deeds are renowned from east to west. And to thee, Britomart, is it given to bring Artegal back to his native soil. He shall return to help his country to withstand the foreign invasion which now threatens thy father's territory. His great strength and his dreaded name shall render great assistance against the foe; and thy prowess shall be added unto his, and together ye shall wear arms and bear great command."
Then the magician saw before him a vision of the future. In his vision he beheld wars and desolation, a ruined church, and a king made captive. Overcome by the sorrows which lay before his people, the aged wizard passed into an ecstasy which much alarmed the two women, who stood silent and confused. Presently it passed away, the natural colour returned to his face, and the expression of horror gave way to one of calm cheerfulness. He then instructed Britomart and her nurse as to what they should do, and they, with lightened hearts, bade him farewell and returned home. There they held secret counsel how best to carry out their difficult enterprise, proposing now one, and now a different plan. At length Glaucé hit upon a bold device.
"Daughter," she said, "I think that plan is ever the wisest that takes into consideration present advantages. Good King Uther is now making war upon the Saracens, and all Britain is in arms. Let us too wear arms and learn to use the shield and spear; so shall we pass unrecognized where we will throughout the land. Thou art tall and large of limb, and armour will befit thee well, and practice will soon bring thee the needful skill in handling weapons. Truly," continued Glaucé waxing eager in praise of her plan, "it ought to inflame thy courage to remember how many women of thy house – a house inferior to none – have done deeds to rival those of the bravest men. Remember bold Bundeca, brave Gwendolin, Martia, and Emmeline; and more than these, let the example of the Saxon Virgin incite thy courage."
"Ah," said Britomart, "what is her name?"
"Men call her fair Angela," replied the nurse, "for she is as fair as she is courageous in battle: she is more dreaded than all the Saxons by her foes, and so beloved by her people that they call themselves by her name. Therefore, fair child, take her example for thine, and equal her in courage."
These hearty words of Glaucé sank deep into Britomart's heart, and inspired in her a great desire to excel in arms. She therefore resolved to undertake the perils of knighthood, and consulted with her nurse how to attire herself in suitable array.
Now it chanced that only a few days previously a band of Cambrians who had gone out against the Saxons had returned with much prey, and among other booty had carried back a complete suit of the armour worn by Angela, the Saxon Queen. It was a rich and beautiful suit, and fretted over with gold. This suit along with other spoils of war King Ryence had caused to be hung up in his chief church as a lasting monument of his success and victory.
In the same church was a famous and mighty spear. It had been fashioned in olden days by magic lore, and was preserved on account of its magic powers. No matter how well or firmly a warrior sat his charger, this spear bore him to the ground.
Glaucé remembered these things, and late in the evening she led Britomart to the church, and taking down Angela's armour from its place on the wall, arrayed her fair nursling therein. She took also the spear, and with it a shield, and gave them to Britomart.
When she had thus completed the Princess' attire, she took another suit of armour and put it on herself, that she might attend Britomart and act as her squire. And now, both being fully equipped, they mounted the horses which Glaucé had caused to be ready, and under cover of the darkness escaped from the palace, nor did they rest until they reached the Faeryland to which Merlin, the great magician, had directed them.
Britomart and Amoret
Faerie Queene. Book III. Cantos XI., XII
After Britomart and Glaucé left the palace of King Ryence, many adventures befel them. In all her adventures Britomart's magic sword and matchless prowess gained for her great renown, and she was spoken of far and wide as the Knight of the Heben Spear, while old Glaucé, her nurse, was believed to be her squire. They encountered many a famous knight, but they had not yet found him whom they sought.
One day, as they were continuing in their search, they came suddenly upon a stranger knight, who lay with his face on the ground, his armour scattered near him, and who seemed either asleep or in great distress. Lest he should be sleeping, Britomart did not speak, but stood waiting patiently. Presently the knight groaned as if his very heart were breaking, and then burst forth into a piteous wail over the loss of Amoret, his wife.
Unconscious that he was heard, the knight cried out against the cruelty of the wicked enchanter who had taken her prisoner, and kept her for the last seven months cruelly tormented, and shut out from the light of day, in a stronghold guarded by thick smoke and magic fires. Then followed such an outburst of grief that Britomart thought his very life in danger, and no longer able to forbear, stooped down and spoke to him.
At the sound of her voice, the knight raised himself, and looked up, but seeing a stranger, he hastily flung himself down, angry at being disturbed. Britomart, however, was not to be easily daunted, and again spoke.
"Ah! gentle knight," she exclaimed, "whose grief seems well-nigh past bearing, scorn not the relief which Providence may send you. To my hand it may be given to relieve your woe, and wreak vengeance on your enemy."
Her brave words so touched the knight's heart that he poured out the whole bitterness of his woe, telling her how hard it was to reach Amoret, since the tyrant had her in strong enchantment, and had guarded her dungeon with dreadful fiends.
Britomart was greatly moved by his sad tale, and again offered her aid. "Sir Knight," she said, "if you will listen to me, I will either deliver her to you from thence or die with her."
At first the knight, whose name was Scudamour, would not accept so great a boon, but Britomart at length succeeded in persuading him to arise and accompany her to the scene of Amoret's captivity.
Arrived at the tyrant's stronghold, they dismounted, and went boldly to its entrance. There they found neither gate nor porter, but a porch from which issued flames of fire, mingled with smoke and sulphurous stench. At this Britomart was greatly dismayed, and turning to Scudamour, consulted with him how best to overcome this dreadful obstacle, "for," said she, "to run into danger without care and thought is worthy only of the beasts."
"Alas!" said Scudamour, "this is the worst cause of my distress, for the fire cannot be quenched by any wit or skill; what then is there left to me but ceaseless sorrowing. Leave me to my grief, let Amoret dwell in chains, and Scudamour die of misery."
"Nay," replied the noble maid, "to abandon a brave deed for the mere show of danger were a shameful thing; better run all risks than turn aside for fear."
Thereupon, resolved to trust her weapons to the utmost, Britomart threw her great shield before her face, and pointing her magic sword straight in front, moved onward; when lo! the dread flames parted on either side of her, and she passed through scatheless.
When Scudamour saw that she had passed beyond the fire and was uninjured, he, too, tried to force a way. But he was full of proud passions, and commanded the flames to yield to him, and being foolish enough to threaten them, increased their mighty rage so that with imperious sway they sent him back scorched and burned. Impatience and disappointment raged in his bosom, and in a very madness of misery he again flung himself on the ground and beat his head and breast, and would take neither hope nor comfort.
Meantime Britomart pursued her way, and going through the first door, entered an outer chamber. It was full of precious stores, and was hung round with rich arras, into which was woven many a fair scene, portraying the feats of Cupid, the blind god. At the upper end of the chamber stood an altar, built of gems of great beauty, and on the altar was an image of massive gold with wings of divers colours, more varied and brilliant than the hues of the rainbow. This image represented Cupid with the fatal bow and arrows in his hand, and at his feet a wounded dragon. Underneath were written these words – "Unto the victor of the gods this be," and all the people that dwelt in the great castle paid it homage.
Britomart stood still for a while, gazing at the golden image, fascinated by its brightness; but at length she turned to look back and take in the other wonders of the chamber. Then, for the first time, she noticed the words "Be bold" written over a doorway. She puzzled over their meaning for some time, and could not find it, but no way dismayed by the apparent warning, she followed their advice, and advanced from the first to a second chamber.
This chamber was still richer than the other. Its walls were overlaid with gold wrought with figures of antique story, and all about were the spoils and arms and trophies of mighty conquerors, who had been taken captive by the cruel Cupid.
For a long time Britomart gazed around her, and the more she looked the more she wondered, both at the richness of the room and at the wasteful emptiness and solemn silence that pervaded the place. As she continued her survey, she saw over the door through which she had just passed the same words, three times written, "Be bold." While trying to make out their import, her eye chanced to light upon an iron door at the other end of the room, on which was written, "Be not too bold." This puzzled her still more; but no living creature appeared from whom she could ask an explanation. And now the shadows lengthened, and darkness fell, yet Britomart would not sleep, but sat in watchfulness, her armour on, and her weapons all about her.
When night had quite set in, she was startled by the shrill sound of a trumpet. After the trumpet blast, there arose a hideous storm of wind, with thunder, lightning, and an earthquake, followed by a horrible stench of sulphur and smoke, which lasted from four in the morning until six – yet Britomart remained steadfast in her watch. Then suddenly arose a whirlwind throwing open the heavy iron door, and from an inner room there entered a grave personage bearing a branch of laurel, and clad as if for the tragic stage. Before Britomart had time to recover from the surprise of this apparition, a band of minstrels, followed by a troop of masquers, issued also from the chamber. Sweet music and strange and gay figures now filled the hitherto empty room. There were Fancy and Desire, dressed in silk and embroidery; Doubt and Danger in more sober garb; Fear, armed from head to foot; Hope, with golden locks and samite robes; Suspicion and Deceit, Grief and Fury, Pleasure and Displeasure – six couples in all. Behind these came a fair lady, led by Cruelty and Despight, who goaded and tormented her as she walked. After these rode the winged god, mounted on a lion, and closely followed by Reproach, Shame, and Repentance, while a confused rabble brought up the rear.
The procession marched three times round the chamber, and disappeared into the inner room. As soon as it had passed through, the iron door was violently closed by the same whirlwind which had opened it. Then Britomart came forth from the shady corner in which she had stood unnoticed, and tried to follow; but she could by no means pass the door, and was obliged to wait patiently for any opportunity that might arise.
All day the maiden waited, and when the next night came with its garment of darkness her hopes rose, and not in vain. About the second watch, the door flew open, and afraid neither of masques nor enchantments, Britomart walked boldly in. As soon as she entered, she looked round for those persons whom she had seen the previous night. But of all the motley crew only one was visible, and this was the fair lady who had been led by the cruel villains, and who indeed was Amoret. Her hands were fast bound, and round her waist was an iron band that fastened her to a brass pillar. Before her was the wicked enchanter, drawing strange characters with Amoret's own heart's blood, which he drew from her by means of a cruel transfixed dart. By such strange spells, he sought to charm her into loving him. But he had already tried a thousand charms, and had utterly failed to touch her love and loyalty to Scudamour, and indeed she was little likely to love one who wrought such cruel imprisonment.
The moment the enchanter saw Britomart in her knightly attire, he cast away his books of wicked magic, and drawing a murderous knife from his pocket ran fiercely at poor Amoret, whom for very spite he was ready to kill rather than see her escape. Britomart leapt forward, seized his arm, and stayed his murderous intent. In a moment the enchanter's rage turned upon her, and his sword inflicted a wound upon her snowy throat.
Then Britomart drew forth her deadly spear, and struck him so dire a blow, that he fell on the ground half dead. Another stroke must have killed him, and she was on the point of dealing it when Amoret made sign to her to hold her hand, telling Britomart that only he who had enchained could set her free.
Hearing this the noble maiden paused, and very unwilling to spare her wicked captive, addressed him thus, "Thou wretched man, for whom no punishment can be too severe, be sure that nothing shall save thee from death, unless thou immediately restore this lady to health and freedom."
Glad to secure his life on any terms, the enchanter at once yielded, and rising up, began to look over the leaves of his accursed books, that he might learn how to reverse the charms he had wrought. Britomart stood over him with her sword drawn, and so dreadful were the things he read, that her hair stood on end with horror. By and bye she perceived that the house shook and the door rattled, but not for a moment did she slacken the grasp of her weapon. With steadfast eye and stout courage she waited to see what these strange omens meant. At length she saw the chain that wound round the waist of Amoret fall slowly to the ground, and the brazen pillar to which she was bound break in pieces. The dart that pierced her bosom fell out as of its own accord. The wound it had made closed up as though it had never existed, and all the hurts and bruises caused by her long imprisonment were forthwith healed.
When the fair dame found herself free, she fell on the ground before Britomart, thanking her out of the fulness of her heart, and begging to be permitted to render her deliverer some service or reward.
Britomart raised her, and replied courteously that her labour received more than sufficient reward in seeing Amoret thus free and safe.
She then besought the lady to take comfort, and putting away the remembrance of her past cruel sufferings, think rather of what Scudamour, her loving husband, had lately endured on her account. It cheered and comforted Amoret to hear Scudamour, whom of all living wights she loved best, thus spoken of by her deliverer.
But Britomart's work was not yet done. She turned to Busyran, the wicked enchanter, bound him firmly by the chain which had held Amoret captive, and thus secured, led him forth from his own stronghold.
Then Britomart was amazed to find that the rooms which had so lately astonished her by their beauty and richness had completely vanished. Still more surprised was she to find the flames which had guarded the porch quenched, and the porch itself gone.
But now a sore disappointment befel both Britomart and the lady Amoret, for when they reached the spot where Scudamour had been left, neither he nor old Glaucé, the squire, were anywhere to be seen. Britomart's brave heart was sorely astonished, and poor Amoret, in whom hope had sprung up, was filled with alarm and misgiving lest she had been betrayed.
Scudamour's faint-heartedness was the cause of their grief and disappointment.
For a time after the war-like maiden's disappearance within the castle, he lay eagerly expecting her return. But she did not come back all that day, and Scudamour, who was not a very great and therefore not a very patient knight, gave way to despair, and made up his mind that Britomart had been consumed by the flames. He took counsel with old Glaucé, and together they resolved to leave their post, and go in search of further help; thus it was that Britomart and Amoret came forth to find themselves deserted.
And so Scudamour and Glaucé and Britomart and Amoret sought each other for many a long day in vain; how they met at last another tale must tell.