When the false Duessa came back to the Palace of Pride from the journey which she had made in the matter of Sansjoy, she found that the Red-Cross Knight had departed. Thereupon she set out without delay, being altogether unwilling that he should escape out of reach of her nets. Nor, indeed, was it long before she found him, sitting by the side of a spring in the shade of a tree. He had put off his armour by reason of his weariness and of the heat of the day. “You did ill to leave me in that ill place Sir Knight,” she said, “for ill I found it to be, even as you did yourself.” Then he excused himself with courteous words, and so peace was made again between the two.
Now the spring by which the Knight was taking his rest was not as other springs, but there lay a curse upon it, because the nymph which dwelt therein had fallen out of favour with her mistress, Diana. And the cause of her so falling was this. On a certain day, as Diana and her train were following the chase, the nymph of this spring, being wearied with the heat and toil of the day, sat herself down to rest. With this her mistress, being very keen in her hunting, was ill pleased: “Maid,” she cried, “you are dull and slow; such, then, shall these waters be for ever, ay, and whosoever shall drink of them.” Of this the Knight knew nothing, but because the waters were crystal clear and cold, and his thirst was great, he drank a great draught. And as he drank, the powers of body and soul grew faint and feeble, but by slow degrees and unperceived. Ere long there came to his ears a loud bellowing sound which made the trees to tremble and the very earth to shake. The Knight leapt from the ground, and would have armed himself, but yet, such was the working of that magic spring, was strangely slow. Certain it is that ere he could don his armour or thrust his arm into the fitting of his shield, there came stalking along with mighty stride the most fearsome giant that ever was seen on the face of the earth. His stature was thrice that of man, and in his right hand he carried an oak tree which he had torn from the earth by its roots. It served him for a staff whereon to stay his steps, and for a mace with which to slay his foes. So soon as he spied the Knight he came against him with the oak tree lifted in his hand. On the other hand, the Knight made a vain show of battle, but the strength had departed from his arm, and the heart in him failed for fear. He lifted his sword, indeed, but he had no power to strike. Then the giant aimed at him a mighty blow, such as would have levelled to the ground a tower of stone. Verily, but for the grace and help of God, it had ground him to powder, but he leapt from under it, yet its very wind laid him prostrate on the ground. When the giant saw him lie helpless in this fashion, he lifted his hand again as if to slay him, but the false Duessa, who, for her own ends, would not have the Knight perish in this fashion, cried aloud: “O Orgoglio, greatest of all creatures under the sun, slay him not, but make him your thrall and slave.” The giant listened to this prayer. He took the Knight in his arms and carried him to his castle, and there threw him into a dungeon that had been dug deep into the earth. There he lay for a while, with such scant provision of meat and drink as sufficed to keep the life in him.
The faithful Dwarf had seen his master fall, for he had the Knight’s war-horse in charge, while the beast was grazing in the meadow hard by. And now, the giant having departed with his prisoner, he gathered together the arms and the armour, for these Orgoglio had left lying on the ground as taking no account of such things. There was the helmet and the cuirass, and the greaves and the shield with the cross upon it, and the spear—things sad to behold, now that there was none to wear or wield them. He laid them on the back of the war-horse, and so departed. He had not gone far before he met the Lady Una herself. When she saw him and the war-horse and the burden which it bore, there was no spirit left in her, so that she fell without sense to the ground. Willingly would the faithful Dwarf have died, knowing what ill tidings he bore, and seeing how ill they were taken. Nevertheless he did not lose heart, but with much pain and care sought to recover the lady from her swoon. Thrice did he bring her back to life, and thrice she fell as one dead to the ground. At last, when the spirit within her had somewhat recovered itself, she said with faltering tongue: “Tell me now, faithful friend, the whole story from the beginning, how it is that I see these relics of the bravest knight that ever was. Verily Fortune has spent all her spite upon him and me. Worse than that which I feel in my heart I cannot hear. Begin your tale and carry it to the very end. If haply it shall be in aught less dreadful than what I fear, so much I shall have gained.”
Then the Dwarf rehearsed from the beginning all that had befallen the Red-Cross Knight from the time of their parting, the deceits of Archimage and the wiles of the false Duessa, and the fate of the two lovers who had been changed to trees, and the Palace of Pride, and the combat with Sansjoy, and how the Knight had been taken unprepared by the giant Orgoglio.
To these things the lady listened with attentive ear, and when the Dwarf had ended his tale she said: “Verily I will seek him as long as I live. Lead on, and show me the way that I must go.” So they travelled both together.
They had not journeyed far before they met a knight riding on the way with his squire behind him. Never was there more gallant warrior or more gallantly arrayed. His armour shone like the sun, and across his breast he wore a baldrick richly adorned with precious stones. Costly were they all, but one among them shone most excellently, a great diamond like to the head of a fair lady, brighter than all the rest, even as the star of evening is brighter than all the hosts of heaven. His sword hung from his side in a sheath cunningly made of ivory; its hilt was of burnished gold, and its buckle also of gold. The crest of his helmet was a great dragon, with wings spread out on either side, and above the crest a horse-hair plume, which waved to and fro as an almond tree waves its blossoms in the breath of spring. But the great marvel of his equipment was his shield. It was not made of iron or of brass, as are the shields of common men, but of one great diamond. Only it was covered up from sight. When he would dismay some huge monster, or strike with fear some great array of the enemy, then he would show its brightness. No power of man, no enchantments, strong and subtle as they might be, could prevail against it, or diminish aught of its power, for indeed it was made by the greatest magician that ever lived upon the earth, even Merlin.
The gallant knight spake full courteously to the Lady Una, asking if he could help her or serve her in aught. “Oh, Sir,” she answered, “my sorrow is so great that it is past all remedy. What would it profit to tell the tale? ’Tis best to hide it in my heart nor stir the hidden grief.”
“Nay, lady,” answered the knight, “I doubt not that your grief is great, but I would counsel you to tell the tale for all it is so sad. Pain is ever lessened, be it ever so great, by wise counsel, and he who will not reveal his trouble may never find help.”
So they spake together, he persuading her to reveal her sorrow and she unwilling to bring it to the light, till at last, yielding to his words of wisdom, she told her tale.
“I am the daughter,” she said, “the only child of a king and queen whose kingdom lies far by the river Euphrates. Long did they reign in great prosperity, till a great dragon, bred in the lakes of Tartary, wasted their land till there was nothing left of all that belonged to them, save the one castle in which they dwelt, and to this the dragon has laid siege now for the space of four years. Many knights have taken in hand this enterprise, to subdue the dragon and to deliver those whom he oppresses. From every country under heaven have they come, brave men and famous for great deeds, but they have failed, one and all. For want of faith or for the hidden weakness of some secret sin they have fallen before him. At last there came to our land a report of certain famous knights that had been bred in this realm of Fairy Land. Thereupon I betook myself thither, even to the Court of Queen Gloriana, who dwells in the City of Renown, hoping that I might there find some faithful knight who should deliver my father and mother from the power of the tyrant. Nor did I go in vain. It was my good fortune to find a gallant knight who was fit and willing to undertake this task. Unproved indeed he was, but he was of a fair body and a noble soul. It was he who set forth upon this enterprise. Of his prowess I saw full many a proof. Yea, the sword and the spear which you see on the back of yonder steed might tell, if they could speak, of the great deeds which he has wrought. But by ill chance he encountered a most false magician, by whose arts he was betrayed. First this vile creature made division between my knight and me, so that he misdoubted of my faith. Next he delivered him to the wiles of a certain false woman, Duessa by name. And she has betrayed him into the hands of a great and terrible giant, Orgoglio by name. And in this giant’s dungeon he now lies pining to death. This is my grief, Sir Knight, and greater, surely, never woman bore.”