“To run into danger without thought, Sir Knight,” said Britomart, “is becoming to a beast, not to a man. Let us think, therefore, how we may most prudently deal with this enemy.”
“Alas!” answered Sir Scudamore, for this was the knight’s name, “here you see the doleful straits in which I stand. This is the trouble of which I complained. By no cleverness or strength or valor may these flames be quenched, for no man can undo the enchantments by which they have been kindled. Leave me to my complaints. Fair Amoret must dwell as before in this evil prison, and Scudamore must die of sorrow.”
“By heaven!” cried Britomart, “it were a shameful thing to give up some noble purpose for fear of danger, without some venture made. Let us make a trial at the least, and see what shall come to pass.”
And as she spoke the bold maiden threw her broad shield before her face, and pointing her sword straight in front of her, threw herself upon the fire; and behold the flames straightway parted asunder, leaving a space in the middle through which she passed, as a flash of lightning passes through the clouds. And when Sir Scudamore saw how she had traversed the fire safe and untouched, he essayed to follow her. But whether it was that there was a certain jealousy in his heart, or some less pure desire, or some lack of faith, to him the flames yielded not one jot. His pride and fierceness availed him nothing; he was constrained to return most piteously burnt. Greatly was he troubled at this defeat, so that he threw himself on the ground and groaned aloud in the bitterness of his heart.
Britomart meanwhile had made her way into the palace of the Enchanter. The first chamber was a wondrous place, all its walls being covered with tapestries picturing the triumphs of love. Many a strange tale of the gods might there be seen, and with the gods was shown a great multitude of men and women, both of high degree and low, kings and queens and knights and ladies, and peasants and women who worked with their hands, for love has no respect of person, and there are none but feel his power. And round about the tapestries was woven a border of broken bows and shivered arrows, and through them flowed as it were a river of blood. At the end of the chamber was an altar, and on the altar was set the image of a boy. Blindfolded was he, and in his hand he held a deadly bow with an arrow set. And on his shoulders he carried a quiver, and some of the shots were tipped with gold and some with lead, and under his foot was a dragon which had been smitten through with a dart. Under his feet was written this inscription: “The Conqueror of the Gods.” All this the maid beheld, and also she saw that over every door in the chamber, and there were many such doors, the words were written: “Be Bold!” But over one door at the very end of the chamber were these words to be seen, “Be not Over-Bold.” Much she marvelled to see no living creature, for the whole place was silent and empty. But the day being now far spent, she lay down to sleep, but was careful to keep her arms close at hand should need arise.
She slept not untroubled. First there was the sound of a great trumpet; but whether it were blown for victory or for warning she knew not. And after the trumpet there was a great storm of wind, with thunder and lightning, and after the lightning an earthquake, and after the earthquake a great stench and smoke of sulphur, yet was not Britomart one whit dismayed. Then, as she wondered what these things might mean, a great whirlwind blew throughout the house, and the door over which the words “Be not Over-Bold” were written, flew open of its own accord. And out of it there issued a marvellous array.
First came Fancy, in likeness of a lovely boy, and after him Desire, and then Doubt, ever looking about him with restless eyes, and Danger, and Fear, who ever kept his eye on Danger, and Hope in the semblance of a happy maiden, and Suspicion, and Grief and Fury, and many more, which it were long to name one by one. Thrice did they march round the chamber, and then returned to that within from which they had come forth. And when the last had passed through, the door shut as it had opened at the first, of its own accord. And when the maid would have passed through it, she found it locked fast against her and beyond all her strength to open. Then, finding that she could do nothing by force, she had recourse to craft, purposing not to depart from the chamber till the next night should come, and with the night the same procession of figures should come forth. And so it fell out, and when the door opened next of its own accord, then Britomart went boldly in. Not one single figure did she see of all that wondrous company. There was no living creature in the chamber, save one lady of woeful aspect, whose hands were bound fast together, while round her waist was a chain which bound her to a pillar. And before her sat the Enchanter, making strange characters, which were among the devices of his art. In blood he drew them, and the blood seemed to be drawn from the woeful lady’s heart by an arrow which was fastened in her side. When the Enchanter saw the maid he cast his magic book in haste to the ground, and drawing from his vest a murderous knife, made as though he would have thrust it into the lady’s side. But the maid caught his hand and mastered him. Not so completely did she quell him but that with a sudden wrench he turned the dagger upon her and struck it into her chest. It was but a shallow wound, but it moved her wrath, and she, drawing forth her sword, dealt him a mighty blow, so that he fell half dead upon the ground. But as she made ready to smite him again, the woeful lady cried: “Slay him not, for if he die then am I here fast bound for ever; for only he that has bound can loosen.”
Full wroth was Britomart to spare so foul a wretch. Nevertheless, for the lady’s sake, she held her hand, and said: “O wicked man, death, or that which is worse than death, if such there be, is the due reward of your crimes. Nevertheless you may live if you will restore this lady to her first estate.” To this the wretch, so reprieved beyond all hope, gave a willing consent, and taking up his book began to reverse his evil charms. Many a dreadful thing did he read which the lady heard with trembling, seeing that they had brought her to this evil plight. And all the while Britomart stood, with her sword drawn over his head, ready to smite him if he should fail of his promise. And now all the house began to shake around them, and the doors to rattle. Yet was not the maid dismayed, but watched the villain as he undid the charm. And now the chain was broken from off the lady’s hands, and that which did bind her to the pillar was severed, and the pillar itself fell into ruins, and the steel by which her life-blood was drained away came forth from the wound, no one drawing it, and the wound itself was closed and the lady herself restored to her first estate.
When she found herself thus whole again, she poured out her heart in thanks to the maid, throwing herself upon the ground before her. “Gentle lady,” said Britomart, “it is reward enough to have done you this service. And now forget your trouble, and take comfort to yourself and comfort also the true knight who has suffered so much for your sake.” Right glad was Amoret to hear such kindly words of the man whom she loved. Then did Britomart take the chain with which Amoret had been bound and bind the Enchanter with it. And this was a fit beginning of the punishment which was to fall upon him. This done, they turned to depart, and as they passed through the Enchanter’s abode, lo! all the grace and glory had departed from it; all the fair picturings were defaced, and when they came to the fiery porch, the flames were vanished, and the place was like to a torch that is half burned.
But as nothing in the world is without trouble, so to their great trouble they found no one awaiting them; neither did Amoret see Sir Scudamore, nor Britomart her squire.