“I beg your pardon, noble Queen,” said the Saracen, “for that I have thus broken the peace of your court; in truth I could not refrain myself when I saw this false knight possessing the shield of the brave Sansfoy, whom he slew not in fair fight, but by magic arts, ay, and not possessing it only, but that he might do it dishonour, commanding that it should be publicly borne.” So spake Sansjoy, but the Red-Cross Knight said nothing; he was a man of deeds, not of words. Only he threw his gauntlet on the ground, to be a pledge that he would meet his adversary in the field.

Then, for evening was now come, all sat down to the banquet. Right royally did they feast, for Gluttony was steward that night, and ordered their meat and drink; and when they had feasted to the full, they betook themselves to their beds, and Sloth was their chamberlain. But before she slept Duessa made Sansjoy aware that she was no friend to the Red-Cross Knight.

CHAPTER V
HOW THE RED-CROSS KNIGHT LEAVES THE CASTLE OF PRIDE

It is ever the way with noble hearts, that they cannot rest till they have fully accomplished that which they purpose to do. So all night long the Red-Cross Knight considered with himself how he should most wisely bear himself in the morrow’s fight, and so considering he waited till the morning light should shine upon the earth. So soon therefore as the sun appeared in the sky he rose from his bed, and arrayed himself in his armour, making ready for his combat with the Saracen. This done, he descended into the castle hall, where there was already gathered a great crowd of men, who had come to see what the issue of the day should be. There were musicians making melody on harps and viols, and bards who were ready to celebrate in song the strength and valour of him who should win the victory. After him by no great space of time came the Saracen, clad in chain armour. Fierce was his look, as though he would strike fear into his adversary, but the Knight was of a temper which no looks could dismay. Then the pages brought in two cups of wine from Greece, and mingled therein spices from farthest India, for such was the custom of the place. It was to kindle the champions’ courage forsooth, but neither Christian nor Saracen, I take it, had need of such encouragement. And as they drank they sware a solemn oath that they would duly observe the laws of honourable war.

This done, the Queen Lucifera came with a great train of knights and ladies, and took her seat upon the throne which had been set for her with a great canopy over it. Before her was an open space, railed in on every side, that none should be near either to help or to hinder the champions. Over against the Queen was set another throne, of less account and dignity. On this was set false Duessa. And on a tree hard by was hung the shield of Sansfoy, and a laurel crown which should be the conqueror’s meed.

And now was heard the shrill note of a trumpet, and the two champions addressed themselves to the battle. Each man carried his shield on his left arm, and took his sword in his right hand, for such was the order of the fight, that for a speedier issue they should lay aside their spears and take at once their swords. Both knights were sturdy and brave, and long they fought without advantage gained. Stroke was answered with stroke, while the sparks flew from either shield, and each helmet showed the dints where the steel had been well-nigh broken through. Neither did this champion or that escape without harm, for the blood was seen to flow out and dye their coats of mail, but neither suffered such a wound as to hinder him from the fight, nor did the crowd that watched them know which would prevail. And now it chanced that the Saracen, as he shifted his place, caught the sight of his brother’s shield, where it hung upon the tree, to be the conqueror’s prize. The sight stirred him to a double rage: “Ah! brother,” he cried, “dost thou sit so long by that dark lake of death the while thy shield hangs here to be the prize of victory? Go, caitiff,” so he cried, as he turned him to the Red-Cross Knight, “go and tell him that I have redeemed his shield from shame.” And as he spoke, he smote upon the crest of the Knight a mightier stroke by far than he had ever dealt. Twice did the Knight reel as he stood; twice was he ready to fall; while all that watched were assured that the battle was indeed won and lost, and the false Duessa cried aloud: “Well done, Sansjoy; the shield is yours, and I and all.” But when the Knight heard the voice of the lady—for he knew not yet her true quality—he raised himself from his swoon, and his faith that had waxed weak grew strong again, and the chill departed from his limbs. Wrath and shame and love wrought such new strength within him, that he struck his foe with a stroke so mighty that it brought him to his knee. “Ah! thou miscreant,” he cried, “go now and take yourself your message to this dear brother, and tell him that the conqueror has his shield.” But when he would have dealt yet another blow, and so ended the fight beyond all doubt, lo! there was a dark cloud over all the place, and the Saracen was nowhere to be seen. He called him aloud, but there came no answer. The darkness had swallowed him up. Then the false Duessa came down from her seat and entreated him with many words: “O most valiant Knight that ever lady chose for her champion, abate now your rage; your adversary lies low; be content with your victory.” But not one whit was his wrath diminished; willingly would he have driven his sword-hilt deep into the body of his enemy, so finishing his work. But nowhere could he espy him. While he stood wondering, the trumpets sounded again, now with a note of victory, and heralds came and paid him homage, making low obeisance to him, and giving into his hands the shield. After this they took him to the Queen, where she sat upon her throne; and he, bending his knee before her, made proffer of his service, which she accepted with much courtesy of thanks. This done, she returned to the palace, having the Knight by her side, the people following with loud shouts and much rejoicing.

And now, because his wounds were many—for not without much cost of pain had he won this victory—they laid him in a bed and bound up his hurts, pouring in oil and wine, the while the musicians made sweet music to comfort him in his sickness. While he thus lay, Duessa resorted to a certain witch of whom she had knowledge, and told her of how the Christian Knight had slain Sansfoy, and now had stricken Sansjoy well-nigh to death, and prayed her help. So the two returned together to where the Saracen lay, still covered with the magic cloud. They bound up his wounds, and laid him in the witch’s car, and carried him to hell to the dwelling of Æsculapius. Now this Æsculapius was a great physician in the days of old, and because he had brought to life again a certain man who had been unjustly slain he had suffered grievous punishment. He could not die, for he was of immortal race, but he had been struck down to hell with a thunderbolt. There he had lain, age after age, striving, if it might be, to heal his own hurts. To him, therefore, the witch and Duessa brought Sansjoy, and prayed him that he would recover him of his deadly hurt. “Nay, nay,” said he, “you ask what may not be. You tempt me to do again the very thing for which I suffer all this pain. Shall I again, with a like deed, renew the wrath of him that so dealt with me?”

The witch made answer: “What more can you suffer than you have suffered already? You hope for nothing; what then should you fear? You are in this lowest deep; is there a lower to which you can fall? Deny not my prayer; rather show the power which has given you your great renown in heaven and on earth and in hell itself.”

“Be it so,” he said. So they brought the knight, and the great physician used all his arts, applying to the man’s wound all the healing powers that he knew. Then Duessa, having accomplished her purpose, so far as it might be done, journeyed back to the Palace of Pride, but when she came thither she found that the Red-Cross Knight had departed.

Now the cause of his going was this. He was not, indeed, fit for travel, nor had his wounds been duly healed, but he might not stay, having heard what his faithful Dwarf had told him; and the thing was this, that there were dungeons beneath this fair castle, with all its splendid furnishing, in which lay a crowd of prisoners in most miserable plight, men of the old times and of the new, such as were Nimrod the great hunter, and the lords of Babylon and Nineveh, and great chiefs of Rome, all who by wicked pride had sinned against God and man. This had the watchful Dwarf espied. And when the Knight heard the tale he would tarry no longer, but that very hour, while it was yet dark, for it would have gone ill with him had he been espied, he fled from the castle. By a bye-way he fled, and lo! it was so full of the corpses of men that he and the Dwarf could scarce make their way, for though the castle was fair in all its public parts, those that were secret were foul beyond all thinking.