“Not so,” said Clarin; “he is as stern and obstinate as ever. He scorns all offers and conditions; he would sooner die—so he declares—than look with any favour on those who have done him so great a wrong. This in brief is his resolve; in truth these are his very words: ‘My body may be thrall to the queen, but my heart is free.’”
When she heard these words the queen fell into a mighty rage. But coming to herself, and perceiving that anger would profit her nothing, she said to her minister: “Clarin, what remains for us to do? It were a shame to have laboured in vain, and still more a shame to sit down content when this fellow flouts us in such fashion. Nevertheless, that his guilt may be seen to be the greater, and my grace the more admirable, I will bear with this folly of his till you shall have made another trial of him. And you I charge to leave nothing that can be done or said to work upon him. Leave nothing unpromised that may help to persuade him. Tell him that he shall have life, freedom, grace, and store of gifts, for by gifts even the hearts of gods are touched. And to these promises add all your arts and woman’s wiles. And if your arts avail nothing, then let him feel the weight of your hand. Diminish his victuals; maybe he is too proudly fed; put more labour upon him, and with harder conditions; let him lodge less softly, lying upon straw; do aught that may abate his courage and his pride; put a chain of cold iron upon him, and deny him all that he may desire. And when you have done all this, tell me how he bears himself. If need be, I will deal with him, not as a lover, but as a rebel.”
All this Clarin heard, and made pretence to fulfil her lady’s commands. But her mind was turned to quite another thing, that is to say, to play her mistress false, and to gain the knight’s love for herself. To him therefore she made as great a show of goodwill as she could, telling him that she was making suit for him to the queen, that she should set him at liberty, but that she could not persuade her.
“The more I entreat her,” she said, “the sterner and the harsher she is.” Then from the knight she would go to the queen and say: “The more grace I show, the more haughty and unbending is he.” As for Sir Artegall, he spoke the woman fair, but never did he depart from his loyalty to his own fair lady.
CHAPTER XXXI
HOW SIR ARTEGALL WAS DELIVERED
While Sir Artegall lay thus in evil plight under the tyranny of Queen Radigund, the Lady Britomart was in no small distress of mind. For now the latest date that had been fixed for his return was long past, and yet no tidings of him had come. Sometimes she thought that some mishap had befallen him in his adventure, and sometimes that his false foe had entrapped him, and sometimes—and this was the most grievous fear of all—that he had bestowed his love upon another. She knew no ill of him, nor ever had heard any; yet could she not forbear to think ill. Now she blamed herself, and now she condemned him as being faithless and untrue. Then again she would think to herself: “Surely I have miscounted the time,” and she reckoned the days and weeks and months again; and, indeed, the days were as weeks and the weeks were as months. Also she considered within herself what she should do; should she send someone to search for him, and yet who could go on such an errand but herself? She could not rest in her dwelling, no place could please her; yet that which displeased her least was a certain window which looked towards the west, for it was from the west that Sir Artegall was due to come. It chanced then that as she sat at this same window on a certain day she saw someone approaching at full speed. No sooner did she see him, though she could not discern his face, than she said to herself, “This is someone from my love.” And truly, when he came nearer, she perceived that it was Sir Artegall’s groom Talus. The sight filled her heart both with hopes and with fears; nor could she stay in her place, but ran forth to meet him, crying, “Where is your lord? Is he far from here? Has he lost or has he won?”
Talus, albeit he was made of iron, and was without feeling of pain and sorrow, yet was conscious within himself that his news was ill, and stood silent as if he would rather that she should discern his tidings than that he should declare them. Then she said: “Take courage, Talus; tell me what you have to tell, be it good or be it bad.”
Then he answered: “If I must tell my evil tidings, so be it. My lord lies in wretched bondage.”
“How came that to pass?” said Britomart; “did the tyrant, his enemy, vanquish him?”
“Not so,” quoth Talus, “no tyrant man did vanquish him, but a tyrant woman.” Great was the rage of Britomart when she heard these words.