Now, the tournament to which this company was going was one arranged by the good knight Satyrane, he who had picked up the lost girdle of the true Florimell.
It was to be held in her honour, and to last for three days. To the combatant who most distinguished himself the right was reserved of claiming the hand of the fairest lady present, and to that lady Satyrane would yield Florimell's golden girdle.
On the first day, Sir Satyrane himself was judged the victor. On the second, Braggadochio's opportunity arose; but when his turn came to fight, he looked so uncertain and fearful that the knight Triamond, indignant at his cowardly hesitation, stepped forward and took his place. The third day was no more favourable to the braggart, for a strange knight appeared within the lists, who bore all others down, and won the honours of the tournament.
Then followed a contest as to which was fairest of the many damsels who had graced the combat. Knight after knight advanced his lady, but of them all, Florimell the false was deemed most lovely, and to her the girdle was awarded.
Now, this girdle had been framed by magic skill, and could not be made to clasp upon falsehood of any kind. It would not therefore fasten on the false Florimell, who, however, insisted upon wearing it, although she was forced to tie it on.
And here fortune favoured Braggadochio, for there arose a great quarrel as to whose Florimell should be. The knight who had rightfully won her was no other than Britomart, who cared nothing for her prize. Then Braggadochio stepped forward and called Florimell to witness that he had before won her in battle. At his audacity the uproar grew more loud, for all the knights hated and despised Braggadochio. At length Sir Satyrane proposed that all should forego their claim, and that the false Florimell should be placed in their midst, and of her own free will choose her rightful lord. To this the knights agreed, and after looking long at each one, as if she would fain have pleased them all, Florimell turned to Braggadochio. The knights were almost mad with disappointment and anger at her choice, so Braggadochio, feeling rather uncomfortable and not very safe among them, bore her off in the night, and left them to complain.
Soon after this the true Florimell was married, as you have already heard, to Marinell. Immediately after the wedding, Marinell held a great tournament, in which he and six friendly knights maintained Florimell's beauty against that of any lady all the world over.
The lists were open to all who cared to enter them, and many were the honours lost and won, but when the third day dawned, Marinell still wore the victor's laurel. This day was to end the tournament, and as the fight grew more and more fierce, Marinell became surrounded, and was in serious danger. At that moment the brave Sir Artegal, whom Britomart sought, entered the tilting-yard, and at the same time, Braggadochio, Trompart, and the lady. Sir Artegal saw Marinell's danger, and hastened to his aid, but not wishing to be recognized, he changed shields with Braggadochio before entering the lists. After a hard combat, he succeeded in rescuing Marinell from the opposing knights, and together they won every honour of the field.
The tournament ended, Sir Artegal returned his shield to Braggadochio, and the whole company repaired to the great hall, where the judges of the tilting match were to announce the name of him who had won the prize. There also stood the true Florimell, ready to greet every knight according to the deeds he had done. Then the judges called for the stranger knight who had rescued Marinell, but Artegal did not move, and in his stead Braggadochio advanced and showed his shield, which all recognized as that belonging to the victor. The trumpets sounded three times in his honour, the judges awarded him the prize, and Florimell came forth to greet him and to thank him for the honour he had done her name. But Braggadochio received her courteous words with scorn, declaring that what he had done had been for his own lady's sake, and not for hers.
At these rude words, Florimell turned aside, and Braggadochio, who had kept his lady veiled until now, brought her boldly forth before all the people, maintaining that she and not the other was Florimell the true. She was indeed fair, and for a moment the assemblage was stupified, and agreed that if this were not the Florimell famed throughout Faeryland, she was yet more beautiful. Even Marinell was dismayed, and knew not what to believe. Then arose Sir Artegal, and no longer able to contain his anger against Braggadochio, plainly discovered himself, and charging the boaster with utter falsehood, declared it was he and not Braggadochio who had rescued Marinell; for proof of which he pointed to the false knight's unused sword. He next called for Florimell, and leading her up to the other, caused the two to stand side by side. Behold, the false could not abide the presence of the true, and the false Florimell faded away before their eyes, and no trace of her was left but the empty girdle. The people were struck dumb with astonishment, and Braggadochio was seized with despair and remained as still as if he were lifeless. Artegal broke the silence, for he stooped and lifted the girdle, and presented it to Florimell. She fastened it on her waist, and it fitted perfectly; and all were convinced that this was indeed Florimell, and crowded around her, giving her tokens of their joy.
Meantime, a commotion arose in the hall. The knight Guyon, to whom the stolen horse belonged, had arrived, and seeing Braggadochio's horse recognized it as his own. Seizing its reins with one hand and drawing his sword with the other, he insisted on having it restored. Braggadochio refused, and a quarrel ensued, which bade fair to be a bloody one. Then Artegal came forward and asked Guyon whether he could prove the steed to be his own. Guyon replied that there was a mark inside the horse's mouth by which he could certainly recognize it. At this several of those present tried to open its mouth, and were severely bitten for their pains. Then came Guyon himself, and called his steed by its name, at which the horse broke loose from its bonds in its joy and followed Guyon, opening its mouth so that all could see whose he was.
Now Artegal was deemed the just, and all looked to him for judgment in the quarrel. He decreed the proof sufficient, and condemned Braggadochio to go on foot until he could obtain a horse honestly. Braggadochio raged and raved in fury, and made Artegal at length so angry that he three times laid his hand on his sword to kill him, but Sir Guyon stayed his anger, saying that Braggadochio was unworthy the vengeance of a true knight.
So was Sir Artegal pacified, but Talus, his servant, seized Braggadochio, and, dragging him out of the hall, shaved off his beard, reversed his shield, blotted out his device, broke his sword, and scattered his armour. Then, rushing after Trompart, who had tried to make away, he disarmed him also, and scourged him out of the court; and, amidst the laughter and scorn of the knights and their ladies, Braggadochio and his follower finally disappeared.
How Britomart found Artegal
Faerie Queene. Book IV. Cantos IV., V., VI
After leaving the abode of Busyran, the cruel enchanter, Britomart and Amoret met with many adventures, but in none of these did they encounter either Scudamour or Artegal. At length Britomart heard of Sir Satyrane's famous tournament, and to it, accompanied by Amoret, she repaired.
It was the last day of the tournament when they arrived. Many brave combats had already taken place, but for this day was reserved the most eager display of valour. Full many a knightly deed was wrought, and when fortune seemed to forsake the side of Satyrane, he himself was ever ready to assist his knights and uphold their honour, proving once again his far-famed prowess. Nor was there one that day who did not put forth his utmost strength, as might be well seen from the many wounds received, the shivered spears and broken swords, and horses that ran riderless. Still the knights of Sir Satyrane kept the ascendency. But when the day had dragged on a weary pace, there appeared from out the other side a stranger. Whence he came no man could say, nor could they discover aught from the arms which he bore. His steed was caparisoned with oaken leaves, his armour looked like wild weeds decked with wood mosses, and on his ragged shield was the strange device, "Salvagesse sans finesse." On entering the lists this new-comer levelled his spear at the first knight he met, and overthrew him at the first encounter. Knight after knight he vanquished, until his spear split, and then he drew his sword, and with it hewed and slashed at helmets until everyone began to shun the very sight of him as of death itself. And now all men wondered who this was, and whence he came, inquiring one of another by what name he was called, and when they could learn nothing they dubbed him the Savage Knight because of his wild appearance. He was, however, no knight of the woods, but Artegal, the brave and mighty.
Thus were Sir Satyrane and his knights dismayed by the sole power of Artegal, and none of them durst stand in the field before him, but were beaten back and chased about all the day, until evening came, and the sun began to slant downwards in the heavens. Then, again, there rushed out from the thickest press, an unknown knight, who in turn put to shame even the glory of Sir Artegal.
This was Britomart, who, eager to restore the day to Sir Satyrane, bent her powerful spear towards Artegal's helmet, and smote him so sore a blow that he fell from his charger, and was for a time unable to arise. Nor did others who crossed spears with the stranger fare better; and when the fighting was over, Britomart, content with having restored the glory of the field to Satyrane, went on her way with Amoret, ignorant that she had, all unawares, seen and fought with Artegal her love.
He, however, was sore at heart, by reason of his defeat, and eager to have his revenge on the unknown warrior.
Meantime, Scudamour still sought his wife. He had, by this time, heard of her rescue, but instead of feeling grateful to Britomart, he was jealous and suspicious of her, for the wicked hag Até had spoken ill of the noble maid, and tried to create enmity against her.
From being suspicious, Scudamour became unjust, and in his wrath against Britomart, had nearly slain old Glaucé, her faithful squire. In vain did the aged dame try to pacify his wrath; the more calmly she spoke, the more angry he grew, and yet their common interest held them together. At length, after various wanderings, they one day encountered an armed knight, who, when he saw them approach, rode rapidly towards them as if bent on an attack. Scudamour, perceiving his purpose, rode forward, ready for the combat, but, as the other knight came near and saw the arms which Scudamour bore, he checked his charger, and riding quietly up, addressed him courteously, calling him by his name, and praying to be pardoned for the offence against a friend which he had so nearly committed.
To this, Scudamour replied, that at worst it were a slight offence to try his sword with any venturous knight, and begged to know who it was that had thus called him by name.
"Call me the Savage Knight," said Artegal, "as others do."
"Then," said Scudamour, "interpret your name; have you taken it for some secret purpose, or only because your home is in the forest?"
"The other day," Artegal replied, "a stranger knight did me shame, and I wait to wreak revenge upon him when he shall pass this way."
At this answer, Scudamour asked who the stranger knight might be, and Artegal told him that he was one whose name was unknown, although his fame was far renowned. He was called the Knight of the Heben Spear, and having borne down all opponents in a great tournament lately held by Sir Satyrane, had departed, carrying with him the fairest lady ever seen.
When Scudamour heard mention of the dread spear, he knew it must be Britomart of whom Artegal spoke, and his rage kindling afresh, he exclaimed in angry accents —
"This is not the first uncourtly deed of which that knight is guilty; he hath stolen from me my true love, and if this hand can aid in the revenge you purpose, it shall not fail you when the time arrives."
So together they plotted vengeance on the unconscious and noble Britomart.
While they were thus talking, they saw far off, a knight, dressed in foreign arms and strange accoutrements, whom on nearer approach, they recognized as none other than this same Knight of the Heben Spear. Then Scudamour prayed Sir Artegal to let him make the first attack. Artegal granted the request, and Scudamour, preparing his spear for battle, ran fiercely against his foe. Britomart, seeing his intention, prepared to receive the onset, and so entertained Sir Scudamour, that presently both horse and rider were on the ground.
And now Artegal, beholding Scudamour's mischance, advanced his lance, and full of rage and vengeance, rode against the maiden; but lo! all unawares, Artegal also left his saddle, and to his great amazement, found himself on the ground. He leapt lightly up, and snatching his deadly blade, sprang upon Britomart, assailing her with such vigour that although she was mounted and he on foot, she was forced to give way before him. Now, as they fought, it happened that Britomart wheeled suddenly round, when Sir Artegal's sword struck a blow behind her crest, which falling backward, wounded her steed, and forced her to dismount.
Not a whit dismayed, she cast from her the enchanted spear, and betook herself to her shield and sword. So furiously did she fight that Artegal, exhausted by his long combat, had to yield before her, and her sword pierced through his armour and wounded him so that his blood flowed freely on the green grass.
But now the tide of battle began to change, for Britomart grew weary, while Artegal, through very fighting, seemed to gain rather than to lose strength. He showered blow after blow on his opponent as if he would tear her body from her soul, and then gathering together all his force, the Savage Knight upraised his arm to deal a stroke from which it seemed impossible that Britomart could escape with her life. Down came the cruel blow, and falling on her helmet, struck off the face-piece, then glancing aside, did no further hurt.
And now appeared the maiden's beauteous countenance, shining like the ruddy morn; and all around, her fair hair – loosened from its band by the stir of the fight – fell like a golden shower glistening as the shining sand. And as Sir Artegal once more raised his sword, thinking to deal the last deadly blow, his arm was suddenly arrested; and benumbed with secret fear, shrank from its revengeful purpose, while the cruel sword fell from his slackened fingers to the ground. Then Artegal, having gazed long on the fair and unexpected vision, fell humbly on his knee, thinking that she who stood before him was a heavenly goddess, and horror-struck with what he had done, prayed for pardon.
But Britomart, full of wrath because of the stroke that had revealed her face, still held her arm uplifted, and standing sternly over the knight, threatened to strike unless he would return to the combat, bidding him arise or he should surely die. But Artegal only prayed the more earnestly for pardon, or if that were refused him, besought that she would take her will and inflict on him what punishment she chose.
And when Scudamour, who now quaked with fear, watched her as she stood resolute, and beheld how fair and heavenly her countenance appeared, he crossed himself, and began to worship her as a celestial vision. And old Glaucé seeing this, and knowing that now all jealousy of Britomart would be at rest, was joyful at the thought of a good ending to her sore trouble, and greeting her lost nursling, prayed her as she loved her faithful squire to grant these warriors a truce. The maiden yielded to her request, and the knights raised their beavers to show who they were.
When Britomart beheld the face of Artegal in all its manly beauty, she saw that it was the countenance she had beheld in the magic mirror in her father's house; her angry courage gave way, her haughty spirit became subdued, and her upraised arm fell quietly by her side.
But the maiden was very proud, and cared not to show that she was conquered, so by-and-bye she tried to uplift her hand again, as if rage and revenge still remained in her soul, but it fell harmless, for she caught sight of Sir Artegal's fair countenance. Then she tried to force bitter, angry words from her tongue, but it too refused to obey her will, and instead of wrathful speeches, would utter only mild and gentle words.
And Scudamour, relieved from all his jealous fears by the vision of her loveliness, grew sportive in his speech, rallying Sir Artegal on his so sudden humble behaviour towards his late opponent.
"Indeed, Sir Artegal," he exclaimed, "I delight to see you, who were wont to despise all fair dames, become so suddenly a lady's thrall."
When Britomart heard the name of Artegal, she knew in very truth that this was the knight whom Merlin had told her she should wed. Her heart gave a great leap. She trembled for sudden joy and secret fear, while the blood rushed through her veins and mounted to her fair face. Then, fearful of betraying herself, she strove the harder to continue in her former angry mood, trying thus to hide her newly-awakened feeling.
And now old Glaucé began to speak wise words.
"Ye gentle knights," she said, "whom fortune hath brought to be spectators of the emotion which secret fate hath wrought in this fair lady, marvel not, and henceforth be not the prey of idle fears and jealous thoughts. Nor may you, Sir Artegal, again disdain the might of woman's arm, which hath twice conquered you, nor any longer be rebellious unto love, which is the crown of knighthood and the bond of noble minds. And you, fair lady knight," continued the old woman, "relent, and grant him your grace."
Britomart blushed deeply at her nurse's words, but Artegal rejoiced in his inmost heart, yet dared not make too sudden a change in his demeanour, nor show openly the love which her beauty and quiet dignity of manner, so grave and full of princeliness, inspired within him. But his passion grew the stronger from the very restraint imposed upon him.
Here Scudamour, whose heart had all this time been racked with fear and hope, interposed, with a request for tidings of Amoret. This Britomart at once granted, and went on to relate a sad tale: how, after freeing her from the enchanter, and guarding her with tender care and love for many a day, she had lost her in a wild desert, where from sheer weariness Britomart had fallen asleep.
Poor Scudamour was terribly cast down by these melancholy tidings, and only plucked up a faint hope when Britomart pledged herself to remain with him until together they found the missing dame.
Meantime the three combatants being thus reconciled one to another, mounted their steeds, and rode towards a certain resting-place known to Sir Artegal, where they were well received and cared for. Here they remained until their wounds were healed, and their weary limbs thoroughly rested.
And all the time they sojourned there, Sir Artegal served Britomart with meek service, watching continually how he might best please her. Thus day by day he made progress in his suit; and though Britomart in her womanly pride tried hard to conceal the love she bore him she could not quite succeed. So well did Artegal woo, so skilfully did he contrive, that at length he brought the noble damsel to bay and forced her to lay aside her seeming indifference and to hearken to his words. And as she listened to the vows with which he swore to love and guard her, Britomart's reserve gave way, and she yielded a glad consent to love and own him for her lord until marriage should unite them for ever.
But their marriage might not be yet, for Sir Artegal had been sent out from the court of Gloriana, Queen of Faeryland, on a hard adventure, and until it was achieved he might not turn aside from following after it. And now that his limbs were rested and his wounds were healed, the knight knew the time was come when he must leave Britomart and continue on his way, so he told her of the adventure on which he was bound. She, poor maiden, having just begun to taste of the rest and comfort of his presence, was sorely grieved and exceeding loth to be so soon parted from her "dearest love." But he, strong in the sense of duty, persuaded her to acquiesce, and with fresh vows of love and constancy, promised to return to her so soon as ever his enterprise was ended, which would not, he thought, be longer than three months.
Early next morning, Sir Artegal rose and pursued his way unattended, save by Britomart, who insisted on accompanying him a certain distance.
As they rode, she found first one, and then another excuse for delay, and talked of the perils he must encounter; perils of which the fearless maiden would have thought little for herself. But it was of no avail; all her stratagems but served to wear away the day; evening came, when they must part. Full often Britomart took leave of her lord, each time finding some last injunction to give, until at length she had spent all her words and could find no further pretext for delay, and so with right heavy heart she left him, and returned to fulfil her promise to Scudamour.
How Sir Artegal did at last return from his enterprise and marry the Princess Britomart, Spenser does not say, for he did not live to end all the tales he had begun. But we know that they were married and lived happily, for Merlin prophesied this when Britomart and Glaucé went together to his cave.