Thereupon the Blatant Beast, the same monster which Sir Calidore had it in charge to seek, rushed out of a wood that was hard by, caught her in his mouth, and carried her away. She cried aloud to the two knights for help, and they, hearing her voice, started up to succour her. Sir Calidore, being the more swift of foot of the two, overtook the beast before it had gone far. Thereupon it cast down the lady out of its mouth and fled. Nor did Sir Calidore delay to pursue the beast. “The lady,” said he to himself, “will be cared for by her own knight; but as for me, I must not abandon my quest.” How he fared in the pursuit will be told hereafter; but we will follow in the meanwhile the fortunes of the two lovers.
Sir Calepine found the lady in very sad plight, being sorely wounded on both sides by the monster’s teeth, so that she lay upon the ground in a swoon, as if she were dead. With much ado he brought her back to life, and, setting her on his horse, held her up with his arms, till they could find some place where she might rest and be healed of her wounds. So they journeyed till they came to a river, on the other side of which stood a fair castle, in which he hoped that he might find shelter. But when he came to the water’s edge he found that the stream could scarce be forded on foot. While he doubted what it were best to do, there came a knight to the river’s side, with a lady riding on a palfrey by his side. Thereupon Sir Calepine, with all due courtesy, made a request of the new-comer, that he would take this wounded lady to the other side.
“Not so,” replied the other; “if you have no horse of your own you shall have no help of mine. Go on foot, and let this lady do the same. Or, if you like it better, carry her on your back, and so prove yourself a man.”
The lady on the palfrey was much displeased at the rudeness of this speech, and, pitying the plight of Serena, would have helped her with her own palfrey. For this courtesy Sir Calepine thanked her, but, being very angry with the knight, would have none of her help. Stepping down, therefore, into the river, he held himself up against the stream with his spear in one hand, and with the other hand stayed the lady on his horse. All the while the discourteous knight stood on the bank jeering and laughing.
When Sir Calepine had won in safety to the farther bank, he called aloud to the other, saying, “Unknightly man, disgrace to all who bear arms, I defy you. Fight if you dare, or never be bold to bear arms again.” But the fellow took no heed of this challenge, but laughed aloud, as if to say that his adversary was of so mean estate that a man of honour need not trouble to regard his words. So, crossing the stream, he came to the fair house on the farther bank, for indeed this was his house.
To this same house came Sir Calepine, for indeed there was no other house where he could find shelter, and asked admittance for the lady’s sake. But the porter said: “We find no lodging here for any wandering knight, unless he is willing first to fight with the master of the house.”
“And who is he?” said Sir Calepine.
“His name,” answered the porter, “is Sir Turpin; a mighty man and a great fighter; he bears a great grudge against all wandering knights, by reason of some wrong that was done him by such a knight in time past.”
Then said Sir Calepine: “Go your way to your master, and tell him that a wandering knight craves shelter for a wounded lady, and that he is willing to fight, but craves that Sir Turpin will, of his courtesy, postpone this issue till the day following.” To this request no answer other than had first been delivered was made, and Sir Calepine perforce turned away, not knowing what else he could do. All that night he sheltered the lady under a bush as best he could. The next day he went on his way, hoping to find some more hospitable place, and walking as before by the lady’s side.
But he was not suffered to proceed far; for Sir Turpin, filled with hatred and malice, pursued after him and overtook him, and having him at a disadvantage, for he had the charge of the lady on his hands, went near to slaying him. Slain without doubt he had been, but for help that came to him beyond all hope. A savage man, who dwelt in the wood, hearing the lady’s cry, hastened to discover what had befallen. He was as a brute beast, and had never before felt in his breast any touch of pity; but now, seeing the knight so hardly pressed, was moved to help him. Neither armour had he nor arms, being wont to strike with such things as came to his hand, and for protection he had a magic charm, which from his birth had made him proof against all wounds. He took no thought how he could best attack Sir Turpin, but ran at him with great fury. The knight struck him full upon the breast with his spear, but made no wound. And when the wild man’s fury grew greater and greater, and he caught hold of the knight’s shield, and the knight on the other hand perceived that neither spear nor sword availed anything against him, then Sir Turpin left his shield and his spear also and fled. Nor had he then escaped but for the fleetness of his steed, for the savage also was the fastest of runners. So near did he come that Sir Turpin shrieked aloud for fear, a most unbecoming thing for a knight to do; nevertheless, by the speed of his horse he escaped to his castle.