The savage man, therefore, seeing his labour of pursuit to be vain, returned to the place where he had left the knight and the lady. Both he found in very evil case, and tended them with all care, staunching the bleeding of their wounds with juices of healing herbs which he found in the woods. Also he took them to a dwelling which he had in the wood hard by, and gave them such entertainment as he could, beds of leaves on which to sleep, and wild fruits of the wood for food, for the savage man never would slay any living creature.

But now there befell these lovers a great mishap. Sir Calepine, being now whole of his wounds, was wandering in the wood, when he heard the cry of an infant which a bear was carrying off in his mouth. This indeed he rescued, but in the chase went so far that he wholly lost his way, and could not by any means return to the place where he had left the Lady Serena. Long did she wait for his coming, being in great doubt and trouble as to what had befallen him, and when, after many days, he was still absent, she purposed to leave the abode of the Savage Man. He would not suffer her to go alone, but clad himself in Sir Calepine’s armour—his sword the knight had put in some secret place—and so set forth; nor, indeed, was ever a stranger pair seen in company.

They had not journeyed far before, by great good fortune, they met Prince Arthur. To him Serena told all that had befallen her and Sir Calepine, the misdeeds of Sir Turpin, and the wandering away of the knight. And when Prince Arthur had heard her tale, he said: “You I will bestow with a good and wise man, a hermit, who dwells in these parts. My squire also, who has suffered no little damage, I will leave; as for this discourteous knight who calls himself Turpin, I will punish him forthwith.”

And this he did in most effective fashion, slaying him and hanging him after by the heels upon a tree, that others might take warning by his punishment.

And now shall be told what befell the Lady Serena, and how it came to pass that she and her lover were found one of another. It chanced one day as she walked in the wood with Prince Arthur’s squire that he was set upon by two knaves, and she, doubting to what end the battle might come, fled away on her feet, and, losing her way, could not by any means return to the hermit’s abode. Being wearied out with long wandering, she lay down in the wood to sleep.

Now there dwelt in those parts a savage tribe which was wont to live by robbery. They did not till the ground, nor breed cattle, nor deal in merchandise, but they lived by spoiling of their neighbours’ goods. And they had this evil custom also, that they lived on the flesh of men, devouring all strangers whom they might chance to find within their borders. Some of these savages, as they wandered in the forest, chanced to see Serena, as she lay asleep. Great was their joy to see her, not for her beauty, but because she would make, they thought, so goodly a meal. First they debated whether they should wake her or let her sleep. And it seemed to them better that she should sleep her fill. “She will be the better,” they said, “for her sleep.” Also they agreed together that she should be offered in sacrifice to their god. “He,” said they, “shall have her blood, and we, after the sacrifice, will have a goodly feast on her flesh.” This they set about to do, and having built an altar, they stripped her of her ornaments and robes and laid her upon it; and the priest stood ready to slay her with a knife of stone in his hand, when their evil purpose was baulked.

Sir Calepine, by some happy chance, had come to this same grove, which they had fixed for the place of the sacrifice, and for the feast which was to come after. He was still searching for Serena, and having travelled far that day, had laid himself down to sleep. And now, there being a great noise of bagpipes and horns, for with these they celebrated the solemnity, he started up; and, looking through the branches that were about him, saw the altar set, and the woman lying on it, and the priest, stretching out his hand to slay her. Who she was he knew not, but ran to her help, as was a knight’s duty, and the priest he slew, and not a few of the savages that were gathered round, and the rest fled like to doves that fly before a hawk. So did Sir Calepine recover the lady of his love.

CHAPTER XXXVIII
OF SIR CALIDORE AND PASTORELLA

Now must be told what befell Sir Calidore in his quest. For many days he pursued unceasingly the Blatant Beast. Over hills and through valleys, through forests and across plains, he made his way, and wearied not. The monster he suffered not to rest, nor did he rest himself, save only when Nature commanded; for he feared disgrace, if haply should he, for reason of sloth, forego his task, and the monster should escape. Therefore he went from Court to city, and from city to country, and in the country nothing would content him but he must search in every farm. On a day while he thus urged the pursuit, he came on a company of shepherds who were playing on pipes and singing country ballads, the while their flocks fed near them among the broom bushes with their flowers of gold. When he came near to them he inquired of them whether they had chanced to see such a beast as he sought.

They answered him: “We have seen none such in this country, nor have we anything that threatens harm to us or to our flocks. And we pray to the good God that He will keep such creatures far from us.” And one of them, perceiving that the knight was hot and weary, offered him drink, and if he chanced to be hungry, something that he might eat. This courteous offer he gladly accepted, and sat him down, well content with such simple fare as suits the dweller in the country. When he had ended his meal he saw a fair damsel who wore a crown of flowers tied with ribbons of silk, being clad in a gown of home-made green which she had worked with her own hands. She sat on a little hillock in the middle of the company, with company of lovely maids about her, and round these again was a ring of shepherds, piping and singing the praises of their queen, for indeed she did shine as a queen in the midst of her subjects. Fair of face she was and of just proportions, and commended her beauty to all beholders by the modesty of her carriage. There was not one in the place but honoured, and not a few sighed for her in love: but she had no liking for anyone.