heads. Where is Arcalaus the Enchanter? cried Beltenebros; the Squire showed him where he and another Knight were under a tuft of trees, both being armed, and their horses ready by them. At hearing this Oriana could scarce keep her seat upon the palfrey. Lady Damsel, fear not! quoth he, if this sword fail me not I will protect you. He then took his arms—tell Arcalaus I am a stranger Knight, who know him not, and have no reason to obey him. When Arcalaus heard this he grew greatly enraged, and said to the Knight with him, Nephew Lindoraque, take that garland which the Damsel wears for your Mistress Madasima; if the Knight attempts to hinder you cut off his head, and hang the woman by the hair to a tree. Lindoraque mounted and moved on to do it: he was a huge man, and well might be so, being son of Cartadaque the giant of the defended mountain, by a sister of Arcalaus. But Beltenebros held him at nought, and placing himself right in his way, for he had heard his errand, cried, Knight, you pass no farther! You shall not hinder me, quoth he, from performing the pleasure of Arcalaus. Beltenebros answered, we shall see what your pride and his villainy can do. They couched their lances and ran, the lances broke, Lindoraque fell with the truncheon in his body,
he rose, being of stout heart, and seeing Beltenebros about to strike him, bent from the blow, and reeled and fell upon the truncheon, and drove it clean through his back, so that he died instantly. Arcalaus was riding up to help him. Beltenebros galloped up to him and made him lose the joust, and struck at him with his sword a blow that cut off the lance, and with it half the hand, so that only his thumb was left. He turned to fly, and threw away his shield, and by the fleetness of his horse escaped. Beltenebros then bade Enil take the shield and hand of Arcalaus, and the head of Lindoraque to the King, and tell him what had happened. He and his Lady went on their way, and rested beside a fountain till it was near night, then rode to Miraflores. The Squires were ready, and Mabilia and the Damsel joyfully received them, for if there had been delay they only expected death. Fair prizes have you won, quoth Mabilia, but they have cost us a great alarm and many tears.
As Lisuarte and Galaor were returning to the town, a Damsel came up and gave them each a letter, and rode away. The King read his thus: To thee Lisuarte, King of Great Britain, I Urganda, the Unknown, send salutation, and I tell
thee that in the perilous and cruel battle between thee and King Cildadan, Beltenebros, in whom you confide, shall lose his name and his renown, and for one blow that he shall give all his great deeds shall be quite forgotten. In that hour thou shalt be in the greatest extremity, and in all danger of death, when the sharp sword of Beltenebros shall shed thy blood. Cruel and dolorous will the battle be; there will be great rage and cruelty, and no compassion. But at last by three blows from the hand of Beltenebros his party shall remain conquerors. Look to it King, for she who sends thee this warning knows what is to come!
Brave as the King's heart was, this letter dismayed him; he believed that Beltenebros was to lose his life, and that his own would be in the utmost danger; howbeit he put on a good countenance, and gave the letter to Galaor, and asked his counsel. Sir, quoth Galaor, I stand in need of your counsel myself; but if this battle can honourably be avoided, I should advise that it be done so; if that cannot be, you should not be in the field; by the sword of Beltenebros your blood is to be shed, and by three blows from his hand his party are to remain conquerors. This I do not understand, for he is to be on your side; and yet the letter says
otherwise. Friend, quoth the King, your love for me makes you advise me ill. I must not, for the knowledge of any one, how wise soever, distrust the power of him who ordaineth all things. My good friend, I will be in the battle, and take what fortune it please God to give. The King's answer roused Galaor; rightly are you esteemed the best King in the world! quoth he, and he then shewed him his own letter.
You Don Galaor of Gaul, the strong and the brave, I Urganda, salute as him whom I esteem and love; know from me what must befall you in the dolorous battle, if you be there. After many cruelties and deaths that you will have witnessed in the last press, your strong body and stout limbs will fail your brave and ardent heart, and at the end your head will be in his power, who, with the three blows that he shall give, is to decide the day.
Friend, quoth Lisuarte, if this say true, you will be slain if you enter the battle; I will so order that you may honourably decline it. Sir, said Galaor, it seems the advice I gave displeased you, that you would command me to my shame. God forbid that I should herein obey you. Don Galaor! you
are right, the King answered, we will trust in God. Meantime say nothing of these letters lest our friends should be discouraged. Before they entered the town two Knights came up to be present in the battle, they were Don Bruneo of Bonamar, and Branfil his brother; and Bruneo grieved much that he had not arrived in time to prove the sword, for he had passed under the arch of Loyal Lovers, and by his love to Melicia doubted not that he should have won it. Him Galaor courteously saluted, and took to his lodging as a right worthy Knight. Presently Enil arrived with the head of Lindoraque hanging from the horse's breast-plate, and the hand and shield of Arcalaus. Then was the great prowess of Beltenebros more praised, and Galaor and Florestan more desirous, to prove in battle that he was not equal to their lost brother Amadis. At this time Filispinel returned who had been sent with the King's defiance to the giants; he brought word that they were gone to Ireland, and would in four days time land in the port of the plain where the battle was to be fought, and he brought with him this letter. To the great Lord Lisuarte, King of Great Britain, and to all our friends in his dominions. I Arban, a wretch, once King of North Wales, and I Angriote of Estravaus, inform you that our
unhappy fortune hath thrown us into the power of the fierce Gromadaza, wife of Famongomadan, who, in vengeance for the death of her husband and her son, inflicts upon us such torments, that we wish for death to relieve us; but she will not kill us that she may lengthen our sufferings, the which are such, that we should have ridden ourselves of life, if it were not for losing our souls thereby; but being now near death, we write this letter with our blood, praying God to grant you the victory over these traitors, who, in such inhuman sort torment us. Great sorrow had the King hereat, and all his Knights; however he comforted them, assuring them that there was no other remedy, or way of helping their friends, than by conquering in this great battle: so they all prepared, and set forth for the place appointed.