Queen Radigund took the knight who had thus made himself her subject, and despoiled him of all his arms and armour, and put upon him woman’s clothing, with a white apron in place of a breast-plate. Having thus arrayed him, she brought him into a great chamber, on the walls of which were many memorials of other knights whom she had dealt with in the same fashion. His arms and armour she caused to be hung up among these, and his sword, lest it should work mischief to her, she broke in twain. When he was come into this place, he saw sitting there many brave knights whose names he knew right well, bound all of them to obey the amazon’s law, and spinning and carding wool. This they did under constraint, for they were bound to finish their task by the appointed time, nothing being given them whereon to dine or sup but what they could earn by this woman’s work. The queen set him in the lowest place of all, and put a distaff into his hands, and bade him spin flax and tow. Truly it is the hardest of all lots to be a woman’s slave! But he consented to her will, saying to himself: “She vanquished me in battle, and I must abide by my own word.”
After a while the queen began to feel the beginning of love for the knight. Long time she strove against it, thinking shame to be so overcome; but finding that her passion was not to be put away, she sent for the same Clarin, whom she had before made her messenger, and said to her: “Clarin, you see that fairy knight, who has been made my subject, not by my valour, but by his own honourable mind. He gave me my life, when it was lost; why should he suffer there in this cruel bondage? Why should I recompense him with ill for so good a deed? I would fain give him his freedom, yet in such a fashion that in giving it to him, I may win his free goodwill. I would loose him, and yet have him still bound to me, not with the bonds of violence and compulsion, but of benevolence and love. Now if you can by any means win him to such a mood, but without discovering, mark you well, my thought, you will win a goodly reward from him, and have me also greatly beholden to you. And now, that you may be able to pass freely to and fro, I give you this ring as a token to Eumenias”—this was the keeper of the knights’ prison. “Go then, my Clarin; use to the best all thy wits, employing both enticing looks and fair speeches.”
So Clarin, promising that she would use her best endeavour to win Sir Artegall to such thoughts as her lady desired, departed on her errand. She had recourse to all the arts she knew to win his favourable regard, and one day she said to him: “Sir Knight, you have had but an evil fortune; you sit drowned in despair, and yet you might raise yourself, if you were but willing, to something better.”
He was in doubt what this speech might mean, and so made answer: “Fair damsel, that you regard me with compassion is in itself a kindness for which I am in your debt. But you must know that a brave heart bears with equal courage fair weather and foul, frowns of ill fortune or smiles of prosperity. At this moment my life is overcast with cloud, yet I hope for sunshine to come.”
“Yea,” answered the maiden, “and what say you if you should see an occasion ready to your hand for entering on better things?”
“Truly,” answered Sir Artegall, “I count him to be unworthy of good fortune who should not promptly take such occasion, so that it come within his reach.”
Then said Clarin: “Why do you not set about to win your liberty by seeking the favour of the queen? ’Tis true that she has passed her days in war, yet she is not born of tigers or bears. She scorns the love of men, yet she does not forget that she is herself of the kindred of man.”
To this Sir Artegall replied: “Believe me, fair damsel, that not from obstinacy or disdain have I neglected to seek her favour. ’Tis lack of means that has kept me back from so doing; and if you can in any way supply this lack, then shall I be bound to you for ever.”
“This fish bites at the bait,” said the damsel to herself, “but it is not yet surely caught.” But even while she spoke, she herself, foolish maiden that she was, was caught herself. For, as a fisher who, while he seeks for the prey, falls into the brook, so Clarin, seeking to serve her mistress’s ends, conceived a great pity for this captive knight, and from pity it is but a short journey to love. But her love she durst not tell, neither to the knight, lest haply she should be disdained, nor to anyone else, lest that by any means it should come to the knowledge of the queen, for that she knew would mean a sure sentence of death. Therefore she kept the matter in her heart, watching for such occasion as might arise.
Queen Radigund, growing impatient of the delay, bade her unfold the truth. “How have you fared?” she said, “What is the temper of the man? Has captivity brought him to a more humble mind?”