On the second day of the tournament Sir Satyrane rode forth, with Queen Gloriana’s knights following him, to challenge all comers. And on the other side also were many famous warriors, eager all of them to win the prize for himself. But Sir Triamond was not one of these; his wound was so grievous that it hindered him from making a trial of arms. So he was constrained to stand aside, but it grieved him sorely. This his close friend Sir Cambell perceiving, said to himself: “I cannot cure his hurt, nor undo the thing which has been done; but this I can do; I can win honour for him.” Therefore he took Sir Triamond’s arms, none knowing, neither Sir Triamond himself, nor anyone else, for he said to himself: “If I fare ill in this matter, the blame will not fall on my friend.”
He went therefore to fight, no one doubting that he was the veritable Triamond. When he was come, he found Sir Satyrane, full of joy and triumph, for no one was able to stand up against him. At him, therefore, he charged, with his spear in rest; nor did Sir Satyrane, on his part, draw back from the encounter. With so great a shock did they meet that both were driven from their saddles to the ground. Rising, therefore, they drew both of them their swords, and fought therewith such a fight as had scarce been seen before in that land. And now Sir Satyrane’s horse, for, by this time, they had both again mounted their steeds, chanced to stumble, so that his rider was well-nigh cast to the ground. This Sir Cambell perceiving, was not slow to seize the occasion, but dealt him so sore a blow on the crest of his helmet that he fell to the ground. Then Sir Cambell leapt from his steed, and would have spoiled him of his arms. But this, which, indeed, is a custom of the battlefield rather than of the tourney, the knights who were of Sir Satyrane’s party would not suffer. Hastening to their comrade’s help, they closed his adversary in so close a ring that though he laid about him most bravely, yet could he not deliver himself—for what could one against so many? So he was taken prisoner and led away.
It chanced somehow that the news of what had befallen Sir Cambell came to Sir Triamond where he lay in his bed. In a moment of time he leapt therefrom, wholly forgetting his wound, and sought for his armour. He sought, but he found it not, for indeed, Cambell was wearing it at the very time. But the arms and armour of Sir Cambell he found. These he donned without delay, and issued forth to take such chance as might befall him. There he saw his friend and companion Cambell as he was led away captive in the midst of a great press of knights, and the sight moved him to great wrath. He thrust himself into the thickest of the press, and smote down all that were in his way till he came to where Cambell was led a prisoner between two knights. Fiercely did he assail these two, and they, for their own lives’ sake, were constrained to let him go. Then he, seizing a sword from one of them, laid about him with all his might, for both his own wrong and the wounding of his friend stirred a great wrath in him. So these two made great havoc over all the field, till the trumpet sounded the end of the battle for that day. By common consent the prize of the day was adjudged to these two, Cambell and Triamond, but to which of the two was doubtful, for they strove together, each advancing the other’s cause, so that the matter was postponed.
On the third and last day of the tournament many valiant deeds were done, not without great hurt and damage to many that contended in the field. There might be seen that day full many a shivered shield, and swords strewn upon the ground, horses also running loose without their riders, and squires helping their lords who were in evil plight. But, for the most part, the knights of the Queen fared the better, and among the knights there was not one that fought with better success than the brave Sir Satyrane. Now and again his fortune failed him; but ever it returned again, and he was the best stay and support of his side.
But when it was now past noon, there came forth from the other side a strange knight whom no one knew. Strange he was and strange was his disguise, for all his armour was covered with moss from the wood, and his horse had trappings of oak leaves, and on his shield, which had ragged edges, was written this motto: Salvagesse sans Finesse. He, as soon as he had come upon the field, charged the first knight that was in his way. This was the stout Sir Sanglier, a valiant man, well approved in many battles; but now he was laid low at the very first encounter. And after him Sir Brianor came to a worse fate, for he was killed outright. Seven knights, one after the other, he overthrew; and when his spear was broken, then he worked no less damage with his sword. Shields and helmets he broke through, and wasted all the array of knights, as a lion wastes a flock of sheep. So Satyrane and his party were turned to flight, for, indeed, no man could stand before him. And when they would find out his name, no one knew it, so that they were constrained to call him the Savage Knight. But he was in truth Sir Artegall.
It was said by a wise man of old time that no man should be accounted happy before the end, because it cannot be known what change of fortune may befall him. And so it proved that day with Sir Artegall. For when the sun was laid low in the heavens, but before the trumpet had sounded, there came forth from the ranks of the Queen’s knights a stranger. First he charged at Sir Artegall and tumbled him backwards over his horse’s tail, with so heavy a fall that he had small desire to rise again. This when Sir Cambell saw he charged with all his might; and he, too, could be seen lying on the plain. In like manner fared Sir Triamond when he would have avenged his friend’s disgrace. Nor did Sir Blandamour succeed where these had failed. Many another famous knight was overthrown that day, yet without loss of honour, for they had to yield to the enchanted spear of Britomart. So when the trumpet sounded on the third day of Sir Satyrane’s great tournament, the honour rested with the knights of Queen Gloriana.
CHAPTER XXIV
OF FLORIMELL’S GIRDLE
The tournament being ended, the next thing in order to be done was to adjudge the prizes. For the first day the prize was given to Sir Satyrane, as has been told before, because, having been first at the beginning, he was also first at the end. For the second day Sir Triamond was held to have excelled all others: Cambell, indeed, was victor, but then Triamond had saved him from imprisonment, and he who saves the victor is, without controversy, first of all. For the third day the prize was adjudged to Britomart, or, as men called her, the Knight of the Ebony Spear, for who she was in truth no one knew. Nor could this judgment be disputed, for, whereas the Savage Knight had overthrown all others, so was he overthrown by her. And this third prize was held to be the most honourable of all, and the knight to whom it was given the first of all. And because by good right beauty and valour go together, there must needs be a trial of the dames, who should be reckoned the fairest, with the girdle of Florimell for prize.
First came Sir Cambell, leading his wife, the fair Cambina, clad in a veil which covered her from head to foot, which being taken away, such was her beauty that all hearts were won. Nevertheless, when Sir Triamond, coming next, showed his wife Canacé, they were not less moved by the sight. And some greatly admired the false Duessa, when Sir Paridell led her forth before the company, for some hearts are moved by one thing and some by another. Nor did the Lady Lucida, whose champion was Sir Ferramont, want for worshippers; nor, indeed, did any one of the hundred dames assembled in that place, lack some to champion her. Yet, doubtless, the great number of the votes had been given to Amoret, when Britomart led her forth, but that she also was surpassed in the common judgment by Sir Blandamour’s Florimell, not the true Florimell, it must be understood, but the false which the witch woman had made. For in comparison of her all others seemed but base, even as the stars seem to grow dull when the moon is shining at her full. “This,” said they all, “is no mortal creature, but an angel from heaven.”
Even so when some cunning smith overlays base metal with covering of gold, he lays upon it so fair a gloss that it seems to surpass the true gold itself. So they who had looked upon the true Florimell thought to themselves, “The dame is fairer than ever before!” For ever it is that false things do seem to excel the true, so weak and false are the judgments of men.