It is now time that the story of Sir Artegall should be told; how he was bred up in the ways of justice. Now this story, as it was commonly reported, was this: Astræa, who was the Goddess of Justice, found him when he was a child playing with other children of a like age; she, liking him well, and finding him innocent and without guile, took him away with her to a solitary place where she dwelt—for as yet she lived upon the earth—and there instructed and trained him to be such an one as she desired. She taught him to weigh right and wrong in equal scales, and to measure out equity according to the rule of conscience. And because there were no men in the place, she taught him to seek experience of the right way among the beasts of the forest; for these also oppress their own kind. Also she caused him to be instructed in the use of arms, in which use he became in due time most expert, so that he came to be held in high repute, as being one who could not only distinguish most truly between right and wrong, but could also maintain the same by force of arms. Also she gave him a sword of great repute which Jupiter himself had used in his war against the Titans; Chrysaor was its name, which, being interpreted, is “Sword of Gold.” Of finest temper was it, and beautiful to behold. Also she gave her servant to attend upon him—Talus was his name. This same Talus wielded an iron flail with which to thresh out falsehood and separate the truth.
This Artegall, being now come to years of manhood, betook himself, as was the wont of all worthy knights in those days, to the Court of Queen Gloriana. And she gave him as the task which he should accomplish, the succouring of a distressed lady, Irene by name, from whom a tyrant, whom men called Grantorto, withheld the heritage which was rightly hers. For she judged that there was no man who could better discern the right, and having discerned it could more effectually cause it to prevail.
So it came to pass that he and Talus, who was his squire, rode off on their errand. On their way they saw as sorry a sight as ever was seen by mortal eyes, a squire sitting upon the ground in most doleful fashion, and hard by him, lying on the ground, the headless corpse of a lady. It was indeed a piteous thing to see the gay apparel of the dead, most cruelly drenched in blood.
“Now tell me,” cried Sir Artegall, “by what foul mischance this dreadful thing has happened.”
“Oh, sir,” answered the squire, “as I sat here with the lady whom I love, there came riding by a knight who had in his company this fair dame whom you see lying here. And whether he was taken with the sight of my love, or was weary of his own, I know not; but this he said: ‘Ho! fellow, let us make exchange.’ And when I denied his request, and the two ladies also cried out upon him, then he threw down the dame his companion on the ground, and lawlessly taking away from me my own, set her upon his horse. And when his lady saw what he had done, and how he was riding away, she followed him as fast as she could, and laying hold of his arm, cried out: ‘Leave me not in this fashion; slay me rather!’ And he in a fury drew his sword, and with a single stroke shore off her head, even in the place where now she lies. And now he has gone, taking my love with him.”
“Tell me,” said Sir Artegall, “by which way he went. Tell me also by what signs I may know him.”
“But, fair sir,” the squire made answer, “he has gone so long that you can scarce hope to overtake him. Yet, if you would know the way, he rode across the plain.” And he pointed with his hand to the course which the knight had followed. “As for the marks, know that he carried on his shield a broken sword on a field of blood; and, indeed, it seemed to be a fitting emblem.”
“Follow him,” said Sir Artegall to his page Talus. And the page followed him swift as a swallow flies over a field. Nor was it long before he overtook the knight—Sir Sanglier he was called—and bade him come back with him, and answer for his deed. No little scorn did the knight feel to be so commanded, and, setting down the lady whom he carried on his steed, rode at the page Talus with all his force. Full on the body he struck him, but moved him no more than a rock is moved by some stone that is thrown at it. On the other hand, Talus dealt him such a blow that he laid him prostrate on the ground. Ere he could recover himself, Talus had seized him in an iron grip, and forced him to follow him, the lady also, though she would have fled in her fear, following. So they came to Sir Artegall.
“What is this that you have done?” said Sir Artegall.
“Nay,” said the knight, “I did it not: I am guiltless of the blood of this dame, and this I will prove on the body of this false squire, if he will meet me hand to hand.”