“Sir Knight,” said he, “know you that you travel on this road against my strict commands? I suffer not any to pass by this way. Others who have so trespassed have come by their death. Therefore I counsel you to go back while there is yet time.”
She made answer in few words: “Let them fly who have need for flight. You may frighten children with your words. As for passing by this way, I am prepared to do it, even without your leave. Verily, I will pass or die.” Scarcely had she spoken when the stranger knight rode at her with his spear in rest. He smote her full on the breast, and she bowed her head, so fierce was the stroke, till it well-nigh touched the crupper of her saddle. But her counter-stroke was deadlier by far. The spear-point passed through his shield and through his cuirass, and, glancing thence, pierced his left side. The power of the stroke bore him from the saddle, and laid him bleeding on the ground, where he lay wallowing in his blood. So fell the knight, Sir Marinell, upon the shore which he called his own. And Britomart rode on; and as she went she saw pearls and precious stones of every kind, and ingots of gold half buried in the sand. Much she wondered to see such riches, but she would not descend for a single hour. What were jewels or precious stones or gold to her, that they should hinder her in her quest?
The story of Sir Marinell, briefly told, is this. His mother was a daughter of Nereus, God of the Sea, and his father a mortal man. He was reared up in arms, and became a great and famous knight. And he had for his possession this same shore; a place in which Nature of her own will had set much riches, pearls and precious stones and the like, and to which, by the ordering of Nereus, great store of the treasure which the sea swallows up through shipwreck was brought, for his daughter made request of the same for her son. This coast, then, he most jealously guarded against all comers. And being, as has been said, valiant and strong and expert in arms, and also because he knew the place and was able to take a new-comer unawares, he seemed to be invincible. Many knights, seeking to pass along the coast, for, indeed, the fame of its treasures was spread abroad, were slain, and yet more, being vanquished in battle, for life’s sake, submitted themselves to him, and became vassals and servants to him. One hundred knights, men of name all of them, were so bound to his service. In the end, Sir Marinell, what with the multitude of his riches, and the pride of having so many knights of renown at his beck and call, became not a little puffed up, and his mother, knowing that the wise man had said of old, “Pride goeth before a fall,” would fain know how he might be kept from mischief. So she went to a certain god of the sea, Proteus by name, who had the gift of foretelling things to come. And Proteus said to her: “My daughter, keep this thy son from all womankind, for from a woman he shall have a deadly hurt.” And the mother, taking these words to be spoken of woman’s love, set her son’s mind against all such things, and did most carefully keep him from all company of women. And he, to do her pleasure, obeyed her in this matter, yet could not so escape his fate. And this fate was all the harder, because this knight was beloved of a fair and virtuous maiden, Florimell by name, whom he might have wedded much to his joy and profit. Of this same Florimell more shall be told hereafter.
Britomart, after having thus vanquished Sir Marinell, still went on her quest, and came at night to the castle of a certain Malbecco. To this same place there had also come, earlier by the space of an hour or so, two other knights, Sir Paridell and Sir Satyrane. It was this same Satyrane that helped the Lady Una in her wanderings when she was parted by evil chance from the Red-Cross Knight. To them Sir Paridell’s squire had said: “My lords, you will not find entertainment here. The master of this castle, Malbecco by name, is a mere churl, and hates all company, and this for two reasons: the first of these reasons is that his mind is wholly set on riches, and he hates all doings by which they may seem to be wasted; and the second is that he, being old and crabbed, is wedded to a very fair young wife, whom he would fain keep from the sight of all eyes but his own. Verily he keeps her as in prison.”
When Sir Paridell heard the squire’s story, he said: “Why do we suffer this old dotard to behave himself in this churlish fashion? ’Twere better to kill the villain and spoil his home.”
“Nay,” said Sir Satyrane, who was a loyal and true knight, and would fain bear himself honestly to all men; “we will first gently entreat this man to give us entertainment. And if he will not listen to gentle words, then will we threaten him; for some who heed not fair words will take account of foul. And if we accomplish nothing either by entreaties or by threats, then we will make our way into his dwelling by force, and deal with him as he deserves.”
“So be it,” said Sir Paridell, and coming to the gate he knocked. “Sir Porter,” he said, “two knights seek shelter and entertainment.”
Now the porter was Malbecco himself, for it was his custom to play the porter’s part. He answered: “All in this house, my friend, are now gone to their beds, and the keys have been taken to the master of the house, and he also is in his bed, nor is there anyone so bold that would venture to wake him from his sleep. I pray you, therefore, to be patient and to seek entertainment elsewhere.”
The two knights were not a little wroth at this fellow’s churlishness, but knew not what they should do, for he took no heed, neither of blandishments nor of threats. And while they parleyed with him, the sky was overcast, and there came so bitter a blast of wind and so fierce a storm of rain and hail that they were constrained to depart and seek shelter in a little hut that was near at hand, being a sty for pigs. While they were faring as best they could in this place, there came another knight to the castle gate. He also sought for entertainment and was denied, and he also, under compulsion from the storm, sought shelter in the hut. And when, the place being indeed already filled, he was not suffered to enter, he fell into a great rage.
“Nay,” said he, “this will I not suffer. Either I will lodge with you, or you shall be dislodged. Choose then whether of these two things ye will have.” The two knights scarce knew how they should answer him. They liked not to deny him lodging, and they liked not to yield to his boasting. But of the two Paridell was the less disposed to take the matter patiently.