To this the other gave his assent. Thereupon Sir Scudamore charged at her with all his might and at his horse’s top speed, which she perceiving, made herself ready, and gave him so rough a welcome that she smote to the ground both horse and man; and this so strongly, that neither had any mind to rise therefrom. This Sir Artegall perceiving, felt in himself a yet greater anger than before, and laying his lance in rest, charged also with all his strength. But he also was laid upon the ground, for there was nothing that could withstand the enchanted spear. Nevertheless he fared better than his fellow, in that he rose lightly from the ground, and drawing his sword, leapt fiercely at his adversary. So sore were his strokes, that though she was on horseback, she was constrained to give place before him. As they turned this way and that, it chanced that a blow which Sir Artegall aimed at the Princess, glancing down the corslet which she wore, lighted on the back of her horse, wounding him so sorely upon the back, in the rear of the saddle, that she was compelled to alight. Not a whit was she dismayed at this mischance, and casting down her enchanted spear, betook herself to use sword and shield. And now the fortune of the fight changed somewhat, for he was not a little spent by long fighting on foot, and she, having been mounted hitherto, had the advantage. Hence it followed that she drove him backwards, and even, so heavy were her blows, wounded him through his coat of mail. And now behold! another change. She was over-hasty in her assault, and her breath began to fail; and he on the other hand reserved his strength, and dealt his blows as thick as the hailstones fall upon a roof—unhappy man, who came so near to slaying the fairest creature in all the world! Still was the battle waged between these two, but ever Sir Artegall grew the stronger and Britomart the weaker. At last he dealt a stroke that, had it been aimed aright, had surely gone near to slay her; but, by good chance, it did but shear away the visor of her helmet, so that her face could plainly be seen, somewhat reddened indeed by long toil, and with the sweat standing on it in great drops, but yet fair beyond all comparison. And at the same time her hair, its band being broken, fell down as it were a river of gold flowing about her. Already had the knight lifted his hand to strike again; but when he saw the fair face and golden hair his arm was, as it were, benumbed, his sword dropped from his hand, and he himself fell upon his knees.
“Surely,” he said to himself, “this is some goddess that I see before me.” She stood, indeed, in great wrath, for she had been in sore straits, and anger ever follows close on fear, and made as if she would strike him, but he could do nothing but ask for pardon. Nor was Sir Scudamore less amazed, for he had by this time recovered from his swoon, when he saw the sight.
And now Glaucé, glad at heart to see again the mistress whom she had missed so long, drew near, and made her a reverence, saying: “Truly I rejoice to see you safe after so many toils and dangers. And now, dear daughter, as you love me, grant these knights a truce.”
“So be it,” Britomart made answer. Thereupon they lifted up their visors, so that their faces could be seen. And when Britomart looked on the face of Artegall, behold it was the very countenance of the knight whom she had seen long since in the magic mirror! And as she saw it her haughty spirit abated. She could never again lift hand against him; nay, when she thought to use her tongue, and reproach him with angry words, even her tongue failed her.
And now Sir Scudamore, greatly rejoiced to know that all his fears and suspicions were false, drew near and said: “Surely it makes me glad, Sir Artegall, to see you who were wont to despise all dames, bow yourself before one in so lowly a fashion.” And when Britomart heard the name of Artegall, her heart leaped within her breast, nor for all her feigning could she hide the gladness which she felt. Then said Glaucé again: “Gentle knights, be thankful for the happy chance which has brought so strange an ending to your fears and troubles. Here is no thief that would take away from you the ladies whom you love. And you, Sir Artegall, who call yourself the Savage Knight, count it no shame that a maid has so bravely held her own against you, and strive no longer against love, which is the very crown of knighthood. And you, fair lady, turn away your wrath; if there is fire in your heart, let it be the fire of love.” Britomart blushed deep to hear these words, and Sir Artegall was glad at heart.
And now Sir Scudamore, who was divided between hope and fear concerning his Amoret, spoke, saying: “Pardon me if I ask you for tidings of my Amoret. I know that you delivered her at no small peril from the Enchanter’s prison. Where is she? for I would seek her, as is, indeed, my bounden duty.”
Britomart answered: “Sir Knight, it grieves me much that I cannot tell you what you seek to know. After I had delivered her from the Enchanter, as you know, I kept her safe. And truly there never was companion more dear to me than she. But one day, as we travelled, we lighted from our steeds by the wayside, to rest awhile. Then I laid myself down to sleep; but when I woke from my sleep, she was nowhere to be seen. I called her; I sought her far and near; but nowhere could I find her, or hear tidings of her.”
When Sir Scudamore heard these words, he was greatly troubled, and stood like to a man who has received a mortal blow. But Glaucé said: “Be not discouraged, fair sir; hope still for the best; why should you trouble yourself in vain?”
Little comfort did he take of these words, but when Britomart said, “Truly you have great cause for trouble; yet take comfort, by the light of day I swear that I will never leave you till I find and give her back to you,” then was he not a little comforted, for he had a great trust that what Britomart promised she would surely perform.
Then they all journeyed together to a castle that was near, Sir Artegall being their guide. There they rested till their wounds were healed and their strength repaired. Meanwhile Sir Artegall paid court to Britomart, who, after much persuasion, though, indeed, she was not unwilling in her heart, consented to take him for her husband. Nevertheless their marriage could not be yet, because Sir Artegall was bound on a great adventure which he must needs carry through. Nor could she refuse to allow him to depart, seeing that his honour was bound in the matter. Only it was agreed that when three months had waxed and waned, then he should return. So the knight departed, Britomart going with him for a part of his journey. Full loath was she to leave him, finding ever new occasions for delay. And when these were all spent, then with a heavy heart did she return to the castle, for she also had business in hand, even to seek together with Sir Scudamore for the lost Amoret.