Tales from Spenser, Chosen from the Faerie Queene

by Sophia H. MacLehose; Edmund Spenser

This chamber was still richer than the other. Its walls were overlaid with gold wrought with figures of antique story, and all about were the spoils and arms and trophies of mighty conquerors, who had been taken captive by the cruel Cupid.

For a long time Britomart gazed around her, and the more she looked the more she wondered, both at the richness of the room and at the wasteful emptiness and solemn silence that pervaded the place. As she continued her survey, she saw over the door through which she had just passed the same words, three times written, "Be bold." While trying to make out their import, her eye chanced to light upon an iron door at the other end of the room, on which was written, "Be not too bold." This puzzled her still more; but no living creature appeared from whom she could ask an explanation. And now the shadows lengthened, and darkness fell, yet Britomart would not sleep, but sat in watchfulness, her armour on, and her weapons all about her.

When night had quite set in, she was startled by the shrill sound of a trumpet. After the trumpet blast, there arose a hideous storm of wind, with thunder, lightning, and an earthquake, followed by a horrible stench of sulphur and smoke, which lasted from four in the morning until six—yet Britomart remained steadfast in her watch. Then suddenly arose a whirlwind throwing open the heavy iron door, and from an inner room there entered a grave personage bearing a branch of laurel, and clad as if for the tragic stage. Before Britomart had time to recover from the surprise of this apparition, a band of minstrels, followed by a troop of masquers, issued also from the chamber. Sweet music and strange and gay figures now filled the hitherto empty room. There were Fancy and Desire, dressed in silk and embroidery; Doubt and Danger in more sober garb; Fear, armed from head to foot; Hope, with golden locks and samite robes; Suspicion and Deceit, Grief and Fury, Pleasure and Displeasure—six couples in all. Behind these came a fair lady, led by Cruelty and Despight, who goaded and tormented her as she walked. After these rode the winged god, mounted on a lion, and closely followed by Reproach, Shame, and Repentance, while a confused rabble brought up the rear.

The procession marched three times round the chamber, and disappeared into the inner room. As soon as it had passed through, the iron door was violently closed by the same whirlwind which had opened it. Then Britomart came forth from the shady corner in which she had stood unnoticed, and tried to follow; but she could by no means pass the door, and was obliged to wait patiently for any opportunity that might arise.

All day the maiden waited, and when the next night came with its garment of darkness her hopes rose, and not in vain. About the second watch, the door flew open, and afraid neither of masques nor enchantments, Britomart walked boldly in. As soon as she entered, she looked round for those persons whom she had seen the previous night. But of all the motley crew only one was visible, and this was the fair lady who had been led by the cruel villains, and who indeed was Amoret. Her hands were fast bound, and round her waist was an iron band that fastened her to a brass pillar. Before her was the wicked enchanter, drawing strange characters with Amoret's own heart's blood, which he drew from her by means of a cruel transfixed dart. By such strange spells, he sought to charm her into loving him. But he had already tried a thousand charms, and had utterly failed to touch her love and loyalty to Scudamour, and indeed she was little likely to love one who wrought such cruel imprisonment.

The moment the enchanter saw Britomart in her knightly attire, he cast away his books of wicked magic, and drawing a murderous knife from his pocket ran fiercely at poor Amoret, whom for very spite he was ready to kill rather than see her escape. Britomart leapt forward, seized his arm, and stayed his murderous intent. In a moment the enchanter's rage turned upon her, and his sword inflicted a wound upon her snowy throat.

Then Britomart drew forth her deadly spear, and struck him so dire a blow, that he fell on the ground half dead. Another stroke must have killed him, and she was on the point of dealing it when Amoret made sign to her to hold her hand, telling Britomart that only he who had enchained could set her free.

Hearing this the noble maiden paused, and very unwilling to spare her wicked captive, addressed him thus, "Thou wretched man, for whom no punishment can be too severe, be sure that nothing shall save thee from death, unless thou immediately restore this lady to health and freedom."

Glad to secure his life on any terms, the enchanter at once yielded, and rising up, began to look over the leaves of his accursed books, that he might learn how to reverse the charms he had wrought. Britomart stood over him with her sword drawn, and so dreadful were the things he read, that her hair stood on end with horror. By and bye she perceived that the house shook and the door rattled, but not for a moment did she slacken the grasp of her weapon. With steadfast eye and stout courage she waited to see what these strange omens meant. At length she saw the chain that wound round the waist of Amoret fall slowly to the ground, and the brazen pillar to which she was bound break in pieces. The dart that pierced her bosom fell out as of its own accord. The wound it had made closed up as though it had never existed, and all the hurts and bruises caused by her long imprisonment were forthwith healed.

When the fair dame found herself free, she fell on the ground before Britomart, thanking her out of the fulness of her heart, and begging to be permitted to render her deliverer some service or reward.